I understand that my title may provoke a strong reaction. You might have clicked on this hoping it would align with your beliefs, either affirming your stance as “pro-life” or “pro-choice.” My goal isn’t to sway your opinion; rather, I want to offer a glimpse into my personal experience—a perspective that, I hope, fosters understanding rather than division.
I’m here, not to debate, but to share my story. I respect your views, whatever they may be. So, let’s take a moment to walk through my journey together.
First and foremost, I want to express how terrified I am to share this. My heart races with every keystroke. I’ve witnessed countless discussions surrounding this topic, and I felt a profound pull to reveal my own experience—a story filled with anguish and prayer. For a long time, I kept it hidden, fearful of being judged or disappointing those who look up to me. But I’ve reached a point where I can no longer remain silent. I am ready to embrace the truth of my experience.
On June 30, 2016, my husband and I received heartbreaking news: our baby was diagnosed with severe hydrops. This wasn’t a routine case. I was only 16 weeks pregnant, and the severity of the situation left my doctors stunned. Fluid surrounded our little boy, crushing his organs—his heart, brain, lungs, and stomach. Within a week, his heartbeat dropped from 153 bpm to 135 bpm. My doctor, who had seen many cases before, told me that he had never encountered such a dire prognosis at this early stage. Two other specialists echoed the same sentiment: “Your baby is dying.”
That day was shrouded in darkness for me. I barely spoke, barely lived. I had longed for this child, and now I was faced with the unimaginable reality of losing him. I scoured every resource for potential treatments, pleaded with doctors for tests, and spent countless nights praying and crying in solitude.
Then came the word that I had always believed I would never even contemplate: termination. My healthcare providers were restricted from recommending it, yet their silence spoke volumes. One doctor indicated what he would advise his own daughter in my situation, while another handed me a list of abortion clinics. As I weighed my options, one nurse suggested I carry my son until nature took its course, insisting that I’d regret an abortion.
I am a Christian. I am a human. I am a partner. I am a mother. I prayed fervently for guidance, researched extensively, and discussed our options thoroughly with my husband. In the end, I made what I believed was the best decision for my baby.
Due to stringent abortion laws in Texas, I found myself packing my bags for a five-hour drive to Albuquerque, New Mexico, just a week after learning my baby was dying. The thought of leaving my family behind to face this reality was gut-wrenching. I was terrified, yet there was a sense of peace in knowing I was doing what needed to be done.
In Texas, it’s illegal to induce labor at 17 weeks; that’s classified as an abortion. This law deemed it wrong to alleviate suffering and to prioritize my own life over a life that would never truly begin. The weight of this truth made me fear sharing my story, worried about being labeled as “selfish” or worse. I don’t want to face the disappointment of others while grappling with the loss of my son.
Every day, my heart breaks—not from regret over my decision, but from the grief of losing my little boy. Like anyone who experiences pregnancy loss, the pain is profound.
I reflect on those who live on life support, sustained by something greater. A family member of mine faced a similar fate after battling cancer as a child. They ultimately had to make the heart-wrenching decision to end the suffering when there was no quality of life left. I view my situation in the same light. I was his life support, and I made the choice to “pull the plug” before his suffering could begin.
I cannot identify as pro-life after what I’ve gone through. I am immensely grateful for the option I had. The thought of a woman in my position being denied the choice to terminate a dying pregnancy is unfathomable. At the same time, I struggle to understand how anyone can choose to terminate a healthy pregnancy. It tears at my heart.
Ultimately, I believe that God has equipped us with medicine and the wisdom of healthcare professionals for a reason. When faced with difficult medical decisions, we should extend compassion and understanding rather than judgment. You never know what someone else is enduring.
So, before you unleash harsh words about mothers who choose to terminate, remember: we are all human beings making the best decisions we can in challenging circumstances. We share this world, and we must strive to support one another through our unique journeys. For more insights into navigating difficult choices related to pregnancy and home insemination, you can check out this excellent resource on treating infertility.