“Life” means growth. Something that is not alive, does not grow. For instance - corpses, skeletons, shed skin, cut hair, furniture, rocks, etc.
As soon as the embryo divides the first time, it is alive, because it is growing. To me (maybe I’m a simpleton) it’s simple.
Growth = the presence of life.
Every adult or aged body is still growing - cells dividing, etc.
I am 100% pro-life regarding the slaughter of the unborn, which is the topic of this thread.
Here is a short story:
A girl, 19 years old or thereabouts (she was taking a lot of drugs and some alcohol at the time, so didn’t notice things like birthdays and January 1, etc) had sex with one young man she barely knew. Drugs and/or alcohol were involved. At that time, another young man she barely knew hopped on and performed sex with her - she was not ready for this, but didn’t fight or anything but I can tell you she wasn’t happy.
Rest of the story in a bit. BTW, this happened in late 1968 or early 1969.
In that case stalagmites are alive.
Finishing my story.
So the girl in question became pregnant. Terrible situation. Listening to ill advice, and being ignorant and without any moral values or good people to help her, she got an abortion in a state which allowed abortions for “mental health” reasons.
She knew nothing whatsoever about how babies grow in the womb, stages of development, and no one counseled her against the abortion. She was lost, unhappy, sinful, and continued the life of immorality for another year or two until her life changed.
Some years later she met a woman around her age, who, coincidentally, had become pregnant (no marriage either) but had given birth and given the baby up for adoption. The girl who had had the abortion wished with all her heart that she had done the same thing.
Many years later, this woman who had aborted her first child (she subsequently had two children) felt, and still feels, pain and remorse - sheds tears of sorrow, that she killed a human being, and would have had three children walking the earth, instead of two.
I am telling this story because the conception, while not involving violent forcible rape, was not much different in the sense that there was no love, no commitment, not even (on part of it) any real voluntary action. Drugs and alcohol are often involved in rape. The child conceived was about as far from “wanted” or planned as any could be. But the violence of the abortion did not make this girl’s life easier, did not “solve” a problem; but on the contrary, made her life much, much worse.
I wish she had had sidewalk counseling, the story might have had a different ending. But it wasn’t around in those days.