Now from the mom, reader Karen on the East Coast:

Sunday evening found my family and me driving down the New Jersey Turnpike. We weren’t supposed to be here, with me humming Simon and Garfunkle under my breath.

      But during Mass, my husband turned to me and asked, “Can you throw some stuff into the car?” We had been talking about going to the March for Life this year, finally. Our daughter the college freshman had attended the West Coast March for Life on Saturday. And yet… a grant application deadline was hanging over my husband’s head, our oldest son had missed three days of school due to a winter bug, and the March seemed a long journey from Boston. In the end, I think it was the beard that made the difference. The beard my husband had been growing for three months, as he put it, “to fulfill a dream I’ve had since I was a teenager of marching on Washington” – looking like a hippie.

On the road we called our West Coast daughter. “No way was it two to one [prolifers to counterdemonstrators],” she said. She thought it looked like a much smaller number of prochoice protesters running up and down the sidelines yelling. She was unaware that the prolifers had turned away from their intended route.

      I won’t say we rose bright and early after our midnight arrival in Washington. The kids hadn’t slept in the car (not even the five year old). We gave them a good breakfast. During breakfast, we inadvertently overheard a left-wing lobbyist (or Congressman?) throwing names around and talking strategy on a bill. We saw a bishop sitting with a man in a suit who wore a rose pin on his lapel. I thought how people in Washington should watch what they say – you would never know who could be listening.

      I packed sandwiches, fruit, cookies, and apple cider into a backpack with five umbrellas; I shoved my son’s schoolwork aside and packed jackets into the other backpack. The sixth umbrella (the only one that saw any use) wouldn’t fit anywhere, so we carried it.

      We intended to meet our state prolife group at a Metro stop, but either failed to identify them or missed them. We headed toward the huge stage set up for the Rally for Life and waited. And waited. And dealt with fussy children (ten and five). And waited. Unfortunately, in the company of fussy children, the rally seemed as endless to me as it did to them. I did manage to hear the President speaking (some); the ten year old was interested in that speech, so I was down to one fussy child temporarily. It rained a little, but not enough to get out the packed umbrellas. The five year old played with the one that was out and available. The jackets came out of the backpack. Even for New Englanders, the wind was too brisk for just sweaters. I told the children that the rally would end when all the prolife politicians who wanted to speak had spoken… which took a while.

      In the meantime, we looked around. We were surrounded by young people. High school students, college students. There were signs from everywhere in the Midwest: Illinois, Ohio, Indiana, Michigan (I’m sorry, I know I’m leaving people out). Many from New Jersey and New York. Princeton rose in my estimation … they had a huge banner and a sizeable contingent; so did Franciscan University of Steubenville (but that wasn’t a surprise) and Notre Dame. I saw a banner for the Sisters of Life across the crowd; I have met them and would have liked to march with them, but there was no relocating; the crowd was too dense.

      Eventually the crowd began to move to our left, and we followed. It was much more compact now. The five year old had revived with some food, but the ten year old (who hates cider) was thirsty and fussier than ever. He calmed down when we came alongside some young men from Fisher High School in New York (God bless them!) who were saying the Rosary. As he joined in, he was able to overcome his fatigue and get into the spirit of the event. As we marched, it was these groups who kept my children engaged… the young people singing hymns, saying the Rosary, chanting, “Hey, hey, ho, ho, Roe v. Wade has got to go.” We were with people from Pennsylvania, Kentucky, and New York. We did see two families with Red Sox and Patriots hats, and at one point I spoke to a large group of high school girls from the Montrose School in Natick, MA, right next door to our town.

      The March goes up a hill alongside the Capitol. I am short, so I could not see beyond my immediate surroundings, but my husband and oldest son are tall (six feet and over). At the bottom of the hill, my son looked ahead and could not see the end of the crowd. At the top, he looked back and could not see the end. So I would guess it was a pretty large crowd.

      At the top of the hill, we saw the Sisters of Life on the side. We were accompanied by Franciscan Friars of the Renewal from New York, singing and chanting, and involving the crowd. The two teenagers were clearly impressed, but the five year old was getting fussy again as we had to slow down to turn the corner and pass the Supreme Court building.

      Twice we had to stop for my thirteen year old daughter. She was looking green and nauseous and needed to sit down and gather herself. I was concerned that pollution (smelly buses) or claustrophobia was bothering her… when we stopped for dinner on the way home, she admitted that the oversized posters with graphic pictures were making her ill. She literally threw up because of them. I was thankful there hadn’t been many.

      After reaching the Supreme Court building, we had to leave. I would have liked to stay for the “Silent No More” speakers, but we had a long drive ahead and that grant application still needs to be completed. And there’s a math test on Wednesday. And a band concert on Thursday… family life resumes.

      We were all touched by the March. My husband and I, by the crowds of young people and their enthusiasm. My teenagers, by the reality of seeing many, many people who share their views on this issue, support they don’t get at home in Massachusetts. The ten year old, by the generous young man who gave him a much-needed water bottle when I asked for a sip for him. And the little one, by the crowd and the time it took to march for life.