The abortion controversy often focuses on when life begins. Does it begin at conception or when the newborn takes its first breath? Turning to the Scriptures, some point out that when the first human being was created, “God breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being” (Gen. 2:7). They go on to argue that just after a baby is born and takes its first breath, God is breathing the breath of life once more.

But if you think deeper about this, does the moment of the first breath really constitute a transition between non-life and life? For that matter, does it mark the transition between no oxygen and oxygen? You may have know people in the hospital who are unable to breathe on their own. If such persons receive machine-supplied oxygenated blood, they can survive indefinitely with this manner of respiration.

A fetus respires in a similar way, receiving oxygen-enriched blood through the placenta from its mother. The first breath after birth does not represent a change from non-life to life, though it is an important new stage of the process of becoming independent from the mother.

Rejecting, therefore, the first breath as the moment life begins, we must go back further. We cannot find, however, any definite place to identify the non-life/life threshold. A continuum exists from conception until birth, and the organism at any point along that continuum is alive and human. Viability is not acceptable, and as medical technology advances, the moment of viability shifts earlier and earlier toward conception. The time the mother first feels movement (called “quickening”) is not the critical moment. That would assume that bodies that can’t move aren’t really human beings. We are forced to move back inexorably toward conception as the moment life begins.

And yet, even beyond conception, the continuum remains unbroken, from child back to parents, to grandparents, great-grandparents, and on and on reaching back to that first human being “formed from the dust of the ground.” If at any point that continuum is broken, all life that would follow becomes impossible. Of course, this means that there is no essential difference between the end of a human life shortly after conception and ending it just before birth, or just after for that matter.

The Bible confirms this conclusion that no distinction should be made between the pre-born and the newly born child. In both the Old Testament and the New Testament, passages occur in which the same word is applied to a child still in the womb and a newborn. In Luke 1:41, 44, for instance, which uses the term ‘baby’ (Greek: brephos) to identify John while he was still inside of Elizabeth. The same term (brephos) occurs in the next chapter to describe baby Jesus (Luke 2:12, 16; see also Luke 18:15; Acts 17:9). For an Old Testament example, see Gen. 25:22, where “babies,” literally ’sons’ (Hebrew: banim, plural of ben), is used of the unborn twins, Esau and Jacob.

The Holy Spirit is not singing Rock ‘n’ Roll when He describes the human before birth and the human newly born as “baby…baby.”

The conclusion from all of this seems inescapable: We cannot justify abortion by arguing that a human life is not being ended. It is human from conception, and it is definitely alive.

* * *

Copyright ©2006 Steve Singleton

Steve Singleton has written and edited several books and numerous articles. He has been an editor, reporter, and public relations consultant. He has taught college-level Greek, Bible, and religious studies courses and has taught seminars in 11 states and the Caribbean.

Go to his DeeperStudy.com for Bible study resources, no matter what your level of expertise. Explore “The Shallows,” plumb “The Depths,” or use the well-organized “Study Links” for original sources in English translation. Check out the DeeperStudy Bookstore for great e-books, free books, and great discounts. Subscribe to his free “DeeperStudy Newsletter” or “DeeperStudy Blog.”

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This blew me away. And if true - how cool would that be.

It is said that the sperm carrying the Y chromosome uses energy faster than the sperm carrying the X chromosome. The energy utilization is said to be due to the speed in which sperm swim. Supposedly, the Y sperm is speedy or contains less mitochondria whereas the X sperm is slower or carries more mitochondria. Mitochondria are the energy producing cellular components which are absolutely necessary for life.

Sperm contain, and can only produce, so much fuel for their journey. If one sperm type swims faster than another, the consequence of that, of course, is faster arrival - but also faster expiration.

That said, if a woman knows her cycle and when she ovulates, the odds of baby gender prediction can be in one’s favor.

Sperm can reach the fallopian tubes in about 20 minutes to 2 hours. Sperm are viable for about 4-7 days inside the woman. [This is dependent upon numerous factors - one main factor being the consistency of her cervical fluid.]

Given that the sperm carrying the X chromosome lives longer, then it is possible to gender predict.

How??

Let’s give an example of how this baby gender prediction or sex determination would work.

You want - a girl.

You know Sue ovulates 15 days into her cycle. You know you must deliver sperm no earlier than 4 days before ovulation. This way, the Y carrying sperm will likely be expired and the X carrying sperm still viable. When the egg is released at about 5 days after intercourse, the X carrying sperm will be in the fallopian tube waiting. Mrs. X chromosome sperm touches the egg and a little girl has begun!

The critical and perhaps not so obvious tip - don’t repeat intercourse again for a week! Make sure she has been fertilized with the ‘mature sperm’

To sum up:

If you want a girl - aim for earlier intercourse before ovulation - at least 4 days before she ovulates.

If you want a boy - aim for later intercourse before ovulation - say about 1 day before she ovulates.

Does older sperm mean less healthy? This is not known; however, it is not the genetic material that dies right away. It is the motility or movement of the sperm which is limited and also the fuel stores.

How do you know when Sue ovulates? She charts her cycle by temperature. In the morning, she takes her temperature before even getting out of bed. No alcohol use the night before or erratic schedule - like staying up till all hours. Recording the temperature will show normal slight variation of about +/- 0.2 points. When there is a ’spike’ in temperature she has ovulated. The upward spike is typically about 0.4-0.6 points of a degree. It will stay steady for a bit and then drop off gradually. If the temperature doesn’t drop off, she is pregnant!

Now is this baby gender prediction scientifically proven? I am not sure but I doubt it. The viability of sperm is proven. The difference of speed and viability of x vs y chromosomes is proven. So the information presented here is postulated and assumed based on that data.

Why not give it a shot? Baby gender prediction can only be fun! And if it works - how cool would that be?

We need to research this. Seriously. I wouldn’t think it would be that hard of a study to do. Anyone want to try it and let me know how it turns out?

In health,
Ben

Benjamin Lynch has a BS degree in Cell and Molecular Biology from the University of Washington. Currently, he is obtaining his doctorate in Naturopathic Medicine at Bastyr University. Visit Ben’s natural health product store, HealthE Goods where one can use our free health information service where one may ask specific health questions. We provide physician-grade non-prescription natural health products. Wholesale spa products are available to all that qualify. Do visit our Healthy Lifestyle and Wellness Blog. We are here to help serve the public with proper health information and effective products.

Copyright 2005 by HealthE Goods and Benjamin Lynch. All rights reserved. Permission to republish this article or any of its parts must be obtained from the author.

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My son’s birthday is coming up in a month or so. If you have a kid, there is a propensity to fondly recall the whole birthing experience as the special day draws near each year. When they hit milestonesmy son is turning twenty onethe thoughts are even more profound. I suppose at this point I could go on and on about his birth; the stirrup being shot across the room; my mistaking it for my son; the three nurses wrestling mom’s flailing leg back into its place as if they were grappling a crocodile into a sack; my son peeing like a loose garden hose over the delivery room doctor and staff. There’s more but hey, we all have our self-important stories that do little more than engross those involved and bore all others to tears.

However, in my case, it is not the birth I remember most. It might be the fondest memory but not the ‘mostest’. What I recollect the most is that I was fortunate enough to even be alive to take an active part in the whole birth ordeal. You see, there was ample reason for me to be dead. No, not from some kind of life threatening disease or terrible car accident. I was lucky to be alive because I wasn’t murdered a few weeks before the blessed day.

Have you ever said something kind of nasty about someone behind his or her back only to discover he or she is standing right behind your back? You know that feeling? How you kind of want to crawl away after that initial knot of dread subsides from the pit of your stomach. Well, I committed such an indiscretion except only a hundred times worse. I did something so wrong that my heart still palpitates like a Buddy Rich drum solo every time I replay a second of it in my head. As a matter of fact, it’s happening right now as I type.

The atrocity occurred about four weeks before the delivery, which was several weeks earlier than expected. So let’s set the clock at seven and half months pregnant. It was a pleasantly warm early April afternoon. Birds were chirping. Flowers were springing. Children were giggling as they skipped to and fro. All was as nicey nice as could be. With joy in the air and anticipation bursting, we decided to go to the mall to do a little diversionary shopping. Eventually, we meandered our way to the earrings glass case at Bloomingdales.

It all happened quite unexpectedly and quite quickly.

I was distracted a moment while she engaged the salesperson in a conversation about a particular set of gold hoop earrings under the case. I remember picking up on an ominous silence to the recognizable cadence of their background conversation; similar to elevator music suddenly stopping. When I turned my attention back to her, she was bent over the jewelry case, her head to the side pressed against the glass, eyes dull, glasses crooked. She formed a perfect L if you discount the bulging baby. Her breath gently pulsed a silhouette of life against the cool glass. The salesperson was crouching down to make contact with her.

At that instant, the stars and planets of male intellect were all lined up. It was time for me to execute the perfect ‘jackass of the century’ maneuver.

I looked down at her. Assured by her visible breath she was alive, I performed a reflex visual sweep of the growing number of onlookers. Having confirmed she was drawing attention, I returned my concentration back to her. With an indignant tone in my voice, bordering on a Rodney Dangerfield punch-line delivery, I callously spoke a bunch of words that would forever be regretted.

“Honey? What are ya doin’?” Pregnant pause, so to speak. “You’re embarrassing me.”

Oh yeah! You heard it right. That’s what I said.

Take a second or two to mull it over. Chew on the entire morsel for a bit. Taste the sour residue it leaves on the tongue.

As my words dissipated over the gaping mouths and popping eyes of those nearby, the salesperson looked at me as if I had just spit on her counter. In a way, I had done far worse.

I looked at the salesperson incredulously, “What?”

It snapped her out of it.

“Ma’am you need a chair?”

She yelled across the counter top to a salesperson on the floor. “Sylvia! Get this woman a chair! NOW!”

“Would you like a glass of water?” she asked the fading pregnant stranger spread across her counter.

To my credit, it had only been seconds since I uttered the sentence heard round the mall and I already knew I had done something really wrong; something severely punishable in most civilized circles. I reached over to put my arm around her and comfort her while Sylvia pushed a chair against her legs, being sure not to touch me in the process for fear of feeling Satan’s reach.

Pale and faint, she incoherently mumbled, “doh … na … ta … meh … yeh … basser”.

“What honey? Here sit down. That’s better. What are you trying to tell me dear?”

“DON’T TOUCH ME YOU BASTARD!!!”

I recoiled back and looked at the salesperson in disbelief.

“And don’t touch me either! In fact, I recommend that you just shut your big mouth up now before you kill this poor woman,” she abruptly added, her eyes dilated in disbelief.

I decided it would be wise to heed her advice.

After receiving a rather robust and ribald tongue lashing all the way home in the car that continued up the stairs and into our second floor apartment, I was immediately sentenced to nine days of the silent treatmentreal silent I might add, she was a professional. It deserved me right! Needless to say, I remained on best behavior for about twenty three months. By then her pain was pretty much over with, except for some residual humiliation I endured after public appearances I made during my confession tour; an idea I actually came up with as a way to channel the negative vibes into positive energyor something like that.

The occasional public shame though was small potatoes compared to what could have transpired. The reality is if she had a gun on her person at the time, I’d be history. If the salesperson had a gun, I’d be history. If anyone had a gun within a square mile, I’d be history. But my life was spared so that I might live to talk about it with you today.

So there you have it. An amazing story huh?

That is what I think about every time my son’s birthday arrives; a haunting memory of a moment’s indulgence in self absorption so inappropriate and so vile, it makes me wonder if I can ever fully rejoin the human race.

In closing

I’ve been sorry about a boat load of things in my life but never more fully or sincerely as I was after that episode of unexplainable senselessness. It was all my own doing too. Couldn’t blame it on a bad day at work. Couldn’t blame it on the media. Couldn’t blame it on the weather. Couldn’t even blame it on my mom wooden spooning my sorry childhood ass. It’s one hundred percent owned by me.

And I’m just as sorry today as I was twenty one years ago! The truth is my remorse is greater, almost universal. In fact, I want to apologize to all women of all living species who were pregnant, are pregnant, trying to become pregnant, thinking about becoming pregnant, or just learning to spell ‘pregnant’. I am very sorry for the monumental insensitivity I exhibited that day at the expense of one of your sisters.

As for you men out there who plan to play a supportive role in the whole pregnancy thing some day.

Listen up!

Learn from my folly. Teach others so they may not walk in my steps. Let’s end male stupidity together.

This article was written by humorist Robert Crane. He has plenty more stories about his addiction to stupidity. Please visit his popular website for more the same;

http://www.cranelegs.com

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