The first time I heard it was in Detroit in 1982. The words shot out at me like bullets, creating an immediate mental image that could not be shared. I had just finished responding to Jerry Falwell on national television. He had asked me how I would feel "meeting my maker with the blood of thousands of babies on my hands" when the TV host turned to the audience for comments. The woman who rose was obviously distraught, her voice shaking. She relayed her own experience with abortion. The guilt still with her, the doctor's coldness, how "they" would not...