Our Movement has been blessed by a great many fine, even superb, pro-life videos. We’ve been pleased to write about them at NRL News Today on more occasions than I can remember.
Just this week, the Irish post-abortion organization “Women Hurt,” released a new video, titled “Every Time.” The music, we’re told at Womenhurt.ie., was written by Roger Berkeley.
Some of the lyrics are so blunt they come right up the edge. But the video is masterfully produced and very much worth watching, especially for what it tells about the emotional blackmail that makes “choice” so often a sick joke.
The beginning is so typical of what happens in a crisis pregnancy, it’s almost as if you could write the words yourself.
The young woman is pregnant and a very angry boyfriend demands to know,” Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” She responds she just thought she was sick.
“Are you sure it’s positive?” “Of course I am.” Before his next outburst, she looks at her ultrasound of her baby.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” he shouts at her. A moment later, “I don’t want to be part of any of this”
And then in a quiet voice, “You’re on your own.”
Here is how Women Hurt describes themselves:
We are women who have experienced abortion. Our abortions have had a negative impact on our lives. We want to share our stories and enable others to do likewise. We wish to reach out to other women hurt by abortion and encourage them to seek help and healing.
And showing the “negative impact” is exactly what “Every Time” brilliantly accomplishes. And not in a overly dramatic way but by subtle, understated gestures.
For instance, after the boyfriend storms out, she picks up the picture of her and boyfriend off the floor: the glass is broken, as is their relationship.
After the abortion, she searches through bookshelves and cabinets until she finds the bent and mutilated ultrasound. She runs her finger across it, as to stroke and reassure the baby who is now gone.
She goes to the ocean with her ultrasound and a bouquet of flowers. We do not actually see her throw the flowers into the ocean, but we a wave carry them back to the shore, a reminder that the memory of her dead baby will come back and back and back.