I’ve been so used to reading snide MSM articles about pro-lifers in Texas who are reveling in the state’s new anti-abortion regs — and the lengths women in that state are going to have abortions.

So, when I saw a positive take on the head of a crisis pregnancy clinic, I did a double take.

On Saturday, the Washington Post profiled Tere Haring’s crisis pregnancy clinic in San Antonio and her assertion that: Give a woman some diapers and you’ll save a baby.

The best quote in the piece:

“I always tell people, ‘Diapers save a lot more babies than ultrasounds.’ ” Haring said. “I don’t want an ultrasound machine. I want tons of diapers. Buy me $20,000, $40,000, $50,000 worth of diapers because if you have a woman who comes in with four kids — yeah, looking at the baby, she realizes it’s a human being. But if you tell her, ‘I’m going to give you diapers for all four kids,’ believe me, the diapers for all four kids is going to save that baby a lot quicker than a little pennant on the screen.”

Wow — a piece about a Catholic woman doing the unglamorous work of helping the pregnant and poor through a crisis pregnancy center — written with no snark whatsoever.

That’s historic. And against the grain, judging from the horrible comments appended to the piece, many written by some really demented people who can’t conceive of someone out of the goodness of her heart doing such a work.

It’s been my position that there are tons of religious folks all over the globe who do valiant work for unpopular causes. It just takes a little digging to find them. And reporter Casey Parks, who worked for the Oregonian 11 years before coming to the Post this past September, found one.

SAN ANTONIO — Tere Haring worked the math. Already, the antiabortion nonprofit she runs had given away a record number of baby items during the pandemic. She’d helped five women a day in 2020, and she’d handed out 71 car seats, 45,569 diapers, and $71,000 in rent assistance. Then, in September, a state law banning abortions after six weeks went into effect. By late October, Haring was seeing seven or eight clients a day. The phone rang, then rang again.

That uptick was just the beginning, Haring figured.