As a progressive individual, my stance on reproductive rights has always leaned toward pro-choice. However, what may come as a surprise is that I hold a strong aversion to abortion. I’ve long believed that every child is a precious gift, and I’ve always thought I would find a way to navigate the challenges of parenthood. Abortion was never a consideration for me—until it suddenly became a reality.
During our anatomy scan at 19 weeks, the technician’s unusual silence raised my concerns. I desperately tried to dismiss my anxiety, but my fears were validated when we learned our baby was a girl. We named her Lila. However, the news that followed was devastating. Our daughter was diagnosed with a severe form of skeletal dysplasia. My partner, Jake, held my hand, assuring me that we would manage—after all, she was still our beautiful girl. But then the doctor uttered the term “lethal,” and reality hit us hard: Lila would not survive.
Typically, conditions like dwarfism might not be evident until later in gestation, but Lila’s pronounced limb differences at 19 weeks indicated the severity of her situation. While there was a possibility of carrying her to term, the likelihood was grim; her rib cage would ultimately compromise her lung function, leading to her death shortly after birth. Faced with the unbearable choices—either to terminate the pregnancy or witness her suffocate in our arms—we knew what we had to do. We would choose to end her life.
No parent anticipates that their child may face such grave challenges. I found myself wishing for a different reality where she could simply be a dwarf—a situation we could embrace and love without hesitation. Yet, I couldn’t bear the thought of Lila suffering, even if that meant enduring pain myself.
The support we received from our community was overwhelming. Many friends and family members, even those who typically identified as pro-life, assured us that we were making the compassionate choice for Lila. Unfortunately, societal norms often do not reflect the nuance of our experience.
Despite feeling justified in our decision, we encountered obstacles. Our insurance would only cover costs if I carried Lila to term and she died naturally. We were unwilling to subject ourselves to the trauma of watching her pass away, so we faced the grim prospect of incurring debt for the procedure. This was not an act of rejection; we loved her deeply, but she simply wasn’t meant for this world.
The procedure spanned two days, and I was filled with dread. I spent the first morning in tears, but nothing could prepare me for the moment I lay on the operating table. Jake rested his head on my abdomen, whispering, “I love you, Lila,” and I felt the weight of our loss like never before. Though this was my personal ordeal, it affected countless others.
As the medical team prepared me, they provided medication to ease my anxiety. They placed laminaria in my cervix to induce dilation, followed by an injection to stop Lila’s heart. This would be the last time I would feel her movements.
After the procedure, I felt a profound emptiness. The discomfort I experienced soon escalated into labor, prompting us to head to the clinic earlier than planned. Outside, protesters shouted vile accusations, but I remained unfazed. I had thoroughly researched our situation and understood the gravity of my choice.
Upon entering the facility, my water broke almost instantly, and the medical staff swiftly guided me to a room for the evacuation procedure. I felt a strange calmness wash over me—Lila had already passed, and my focus was solely on her well-being.
The final moments of the procedure faded into a blur, but I did not perceive it as a nightmare. When it concluded, the nurse cleaned me up, and the doctor presented me with my daughter. Although her little features bore signs of the procedure, I took the time to cherish every detail, counting her toes and whispering my love for her.
In the days that followed, I often spoke of Lila as if she were still with us, grappling with the reality of her absence. I refuse to refer to her as “the fetus” or say I “terminated my pregnancy.” Her name is Lila, and I made the choice to prevent her suffering. This is not merely a statistic or a political stance; it is my life and her legacy. While opinions may differ, no one has the right to judge my decision.
This has been the most harrowing experience of my life, yet I wouldn’t alter a thing. Lila’s absence will be a part of me forever, but I find solace in knowing that she never endured pain—only the warmth of my womb and the love of her father.
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Summary:
This article reflects a deeply personal journey through the heart-wrenching choice of terminating a pregnancy due to a severe medical condition. The narrative emphasizes the complexities surrounding the decision, the emotional toll, and the unwavering love for the child, all while challenging societal perceptions of abortion.
Keyphrase: abortion choice
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