As a progressive individual, it’s not surprising that I advocate for reproductive rights. However, what might not be immediately apparent is my personal stance against abortion. Although I honor the myriad reasons a woman might choose to end her pregnancy, I always believed that my child was destined for my care, and I would navigate any challenges that arose. Abortion was never an option I considered—until the moment it became a reality.
During our 19-week anatomy ultrasound, the technician’s unusual silence raised my concerns. Despite my attempts to dismiss my anxiety, my instincts were correct. We gazed at our baby’s tiny face and felt her heartbeat, learning that we were expecting a girl. (Another girl! Our household was about to get even more lively!) But then the doctor entered the room.
Our daughter, whom we named Lily Grace, was diagnosed with skeletal dysplasia. My partner held my arm, offering a reassuring smile. Our little girl was going to be a dwarf, and while it was a challenge, we believed we could manage. Yet, when the doctor uttered the term “lethal,” the gravity of our situation became painfully clear—Lily would not survive.
Dwarfism often goes undetected on ultrasounds until later stages of pregnancy, and sometimes it’s not diagnosed until after birth. The significant shortening of Lily’s limbs at this stage indicated the severity of her condition. If I carried her to term, her rib cage would restrict lung development, leading to her death shortly after birth.
Faced with two options—termination of the pregnancy or enduring the agony of watching our daughter suffocate—we made a decision we believed was best for her. The thought of enduring such trauma, especially for our other young children, was unbearable. We couldn’t fathom putting Lily through inevitable suffering, so I chose to have the abortion.
No parent expects to confront the possibility of a serious issue with their child. I found myself wishing for a scenario where Lily would simply be born a dwarf, a condition we could embrace and cherish. However, allowing her to suffer, even if it meant I would endure pain, was not an option.
Surprisingly, the support from friends and family was immediate and overwhelming. Even those who identified as pro-life affirmed our decision, recognizing that our situation was not typical. While we felt we were making the right choice for Lily, we faced obstacles from the system. Our insurance would only cover costs if I carried her to term, which we had already ruled out. We were left facing the prospect of incurring debt for the procedure.
The procedure was scheduled for two days. The first morning, I was filled with dread. The emotional weight was immense, and I cried throughout the morning. It wasn’t until I lay on the table that the full impact of our loss hit me. My partner gently placed his head on my belly, whispering, “Daddy loves you, Lily,” and I felt my resolve shatter.
The procedure itself was a blur of emotions. I was given medication to ease my anxiety and pain while the medical team prepared for the procedure. They administered an injection to stop Lily’s heart, and I knew I would never feel her move again.
Afterwards, I felt drained, both physically and emotionally. The medication provided a temporary escape, but waking up the next morning brought feelings of emptiness. Labor began unexpectedly, leading us to the clinic earlier than planned.
As we approached the clinic, protesters shouted at us, brandishing graphic images intended to provoke. Yet I felt unshaken; I had educated myself on the realities of our situation. I was not naïve—I understood the gravity of my choice.
Once inside, my water broke almost immediately. Within moments, the procedure commenced. I was no longer frightened. The only thing that mattered was Lily’s life, which had already been extinguished.
The final moments of the procedure were not the nightmare many describe. Once it was over, the doctor presented me with my daughter. Though her face bore the marks of the procedure, I chose to hold her. I gently caressed her tiny legs and counted her toes, whispering my love and marveling at her beauty.
In the days that followed, I found it surreal to speak of her as if she were still expected in a few months. Despite the procedure, I struggled to accept that she was gone.
I refuse to refer to her as “the fetus” or to say that I “terminated my pregnancy.” Her name is Lily, and I made the choice to end her life to spare her from suffering. This is not merely a statistic or political stance; it is my reality and hers. While opinions vary widely, no one should judge me for my decision. This experience has been the most harrowing of my life, yet I wouldn’t alter a thing. I will carry the loss of Lily with me always, but I find solace in knowing that she did not endure suffering. All she ever knew was the warmth of my embrace and the gentle touch of her father’s hand.
For those seeking further information on pregnancy and reproductive choices, resources like the National Institute of Child Health and Human Development provide excellent insights. If you’re interested in exploring options for starting a family, consider visiting MakeAMom’s home insemination kit to learn more about your journey. Additionally, for couples navigating their fertility journey, this resource offers valuable guidance.
Summary
The author shares a deeply personal experience regarding the difficult decision to terminate a pregnancy due to a fatal diagnosis. While pro-choice, the author emphasizes the emotional weight of the decision and the belief that it was the best choice to prevent suffering for their daughter. The narrative highlights the support received from friends and family, the challenges faced with the healthcare system, and the lasting impact of the loss.
Keyphrase: Abortion as a choice
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