As a liberal, my pro-choice stance is likely anticipated. However, it may surprise you to learn that I have always been anti-abortion. I believed that my child was mine to nurture, and I would navigate any challenges that arose. Abortion was never something I thought I would consider—until that fateful day when it became a reality.
During our anatomy ultrasound at 19 weeks, the atmosphere shifted as the technician remained unusually quiet. I tried to dismiss my worries as paranoia, but my instincts were correct. We got a glimpse of our baby’s face, watched her heart beating, and discovered we were having a girl. A little sister for our other children! But then the doctor entered with news that would change everything.
Our daughter, whom we named Lily Grace, had skeletal dysplasia. My partner held my hand, offering comfort, and we both felt a surge of love for our baby. She was uniquely perfect, even if she was a dwarf. I assured myself we could manage this. But then the doctor uttered the word “lethal,” and I realized we were faced with an unimaginable truth: Lily wouldn’t survive.
In many cases, babies with dwarfism don’t exhibit significant differences on ultrasounds until later in pregnancy, and some conditions aren’t discovered until after birth. The visible shortness of Lily’s limbs at 19 weeks indicated the severity of her condition. While I could choose to carry her to term, her rib cage would make breathing impossible, leading to a brief life filled with suffering.
Our decision became clear: we could either terminate the pregnancy now or endure the heartbreak of watching her struggle to breathe before dying in our arms. We couldn’t fathom putting her through that pain. The choice was made—I would have an abortion.
No one anticipates facing such challenges with their child. I found myself wishing for a typical dwarfism diagnosis, as that would mean we could nurture her and show her the love she deserved. But I couldn’t let her suffer, even if it meant enduring my own pain.
To our surprise, we received immense support from friends and family. Even individuals who identified as pro-life acknowledged that we were making the right choice for Lily. However, society often fails to understand the complexity of such situations.
Despite our conviction, we faced obstacles. Insurance only covered expenses if I carried her to term and she passed away naturally. Since watching our daughter suffocate was not an option, we were forced to confront the reality of incurring debt for the procedure. We weren’t discarding our baby; we wanted her deeply, but she simply wasn’t destined for this world.
The procedure spanned two days. The first morning found me gripped with fear; the weight of the situation was unbearable. I cried, but when I lay on the table, my partner placed his head on my abdomen and whispered, “Daddy loves you, Lily.” At that moment, the magnitude of our loss overwhelmed me. Though the procedure was mine to endure, it affected many others in our lives.
They administered medication to ease my anxiety and pain while placing laminaria in my cervix to dilate it. Then they injected Lily to stop her heart. I would never feel her move again.
Afterwards, I felt exhausted and sore, but the medication provided a needed escape for much of the day. The following morning, I woke with cramps, an emptiness settling in. Soon, the cramps intensified, leading us to hurry to the clinic ahead of schedule.
As we approached, protesters shouted at us, holding disturbing images of aborted fetuses. I was unfazed; I had done my research, and I wasn’t a naive girl making a rash decision. I was a woman fully aware of what I was choosing.
Within moments of entering, my water broke, and soon after, the doctor began the evacuation procedure. I felt oddly calm; Lily was already gone, and her life had been my only concern.
The final moments were a blur, yet I didn’t experience the trauma that others described. After the procedure, the doctor brought Lily to me. Although her face had been marred, I spent precious moments caressing her tiny legs and counting her toes, telling her how much I loved her, marveling at her beauty.
In the days that followed, I found myself speaking of her as though she would still arrive as planned. Despite holding her and undergoing the procedure, it felt surreal to accept her absence.
I refuse to refer to her as “the fetus” or say I “terminated my pregnancy.” Her name is Lily, and I made the choice to end her life to spare her suffering. This isn’t about political ideology; it’s my reality and hers. While everyone is entitled to their opinions, no one should judge the decisions I made for my family. This has been the most harrowing experience of my life, but I wouldn’t change a thing. I’ll carry the loss of Lily every day, but I find solace in knowing that she felt only the warmth of my womb and the love of her father’s hand.
For more insights on family planning and pregnancy options, you can explore resources like Resolve and check out our at-home insemination kits for those considering their own journeys.
Summary:
This deeply personal account shares the author’s unexpected journey through the decision to terminate a pregnancy due to a severe diagnosis. Emphasizing the emotional complexity and societal perceptions surrounding abortion, the narrative highlights the love for the unborn child and the desire to prevent suffering. It illustrates the difficult choices many parents face, asserting the importance of respecting individual decisions in matters of life and death.
Keyphrase: Abortion and choices
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