Her name was Emily. She was my second daughter, and she was stillborn due to Trisomy 18, a chromosomal condition that is often deemed incompatible with life. My love for her was profound, yet I felt compelled to end my pregnancy.
This decision stemmed from a place of love and compassion. However, due to the political landscape in our state, I was denied the right to choose an abortion. After holding her tiny, lifeless body, I promised to advocate for others facing similar heartache, aiming to prevent other families from enduring what we experienced.
At 16 weeks, a routine blood test indicated a 1 in 10 chance of Trisomy 18. My physician swiftly arranged for a specialist consultation. An ultrasound revealed additional complications: cystic hygroma, a clubbed foot, and growth restrictions, as she measured nearly a week behind. We had to wait for the amniocentesis, which could not be performed until the amniotic sac fused to the uterine wall. During this waiting period, I extensively researched the disorder, connecting with other families through the Trisomy 18 Foundation. As we awaited results, my husband and I faced the daunting task of discussing what our options would be if the diagnosis were confirmed.
Making this decision was the hardest challenge of our lives. We understood that doctors would refrain from any life-saving interventions post-birth due to her condition. Our primary concern was minimizing her suffering, yet the thought of ending her life weighed heavily on my heart. Ultimately, we decided to pursue a labor and delivery abortion, known as “saying goodbye early” in the Trisomy 18 community. This approach would allow us to hold her, capture precious photographs, and have her remains for cremation, granting us a brief opportunity to create lasting memories.
Despite my anticipation of the diagnosis, I was devastated when the results confirmed our worst fears. I remember little from that day beyond my sobs and the repeated lamentation, “She was so wanted.” Initially, I believed that obtaining the procedure would be straightforward, given that abortion is legal across the country. My doctor also thought it would be manageable. However, when we reconvened, she informed us that local hospitals were refusing to perform the procedure due to the current political climate. We were advised to travel four hours to an Atlanta clinic specializing in late-term abortions. Although it wasn’t our preferred option, my desire to shield my child from pain took precedence.
Upon arrival at the clinic, I learned that we would not be able to hold her or take photographs, nor would we receive her remains. I was heartbroken, but my commitment to spare her from suffering remained paramount. We were told we would be segregated from women undergoing procedures for different reasons, but that did not happen.
Surrounded by women seeking to terminate healthy pregnancies, I felt an overwhelming sense of injustice. I didn’t desire a perfect baby; I simply wanted one who would survive. If the laws in my state were different, we wouldn’t have faced this heart-wrenching ordeal. I now recognize that every woman present was grappling with her own desperate circumstances, regardless of the reasons behind their decisions.
After nearly four hours of waiting, we were told a paperwork error meant we could not proceed that day. We were devastated. An ultrasound confirmed our fears: Emily had very little brain matter and reduced amniotic fluid, indicating that her kidneys were nonfunctional. Without functioning kidneys, her lungs had not developed properly.
The decision to terminate the pregnancy was agonizing, and returning to Atlanta felt emotionally insurmountable. Ultimately, we chose to return home and allow nature to take its course. Each day I carried her, I wrestled with the haunting possibility that she might have passed away inside me. I became increasingly anxious, losing 12 pounds in two weeks as I struggled to function.
Emily was stillborn, and in that moment, I felt she had escaped suffering. I vowed to share our story and advocate for change, opposing laws that restrict a woman’s right to make healthcare decisions for herself and her child. I have engaged in discussions online, spoken before our state legislature, and created a public service announcement to raise awareness about the importance of reproductive choice. No parent should face shame for making a difficult yet loving decision regarding a terminally ill child. If parents can withdraw life support from a brain-dead child or cease treatment for a terminal illness, why should the same rights not extend to a fetus?
As I fight for a woman’s right to choose, I also support the right to carry a pregnancy to term. There is no one-size-fits-all solution for families facing difficult prenatal diagnoses. We all love our children and wish for their well-being, and it’s imperative that we have the freedom to make those decisions.
For those looking for more information on similar topics, you might find our post on home insemination helpful. Additionally, Make a Mom offers authoritative insights on improving fertility, while the NHS provides excellent resources on intrauterine insemination.
Summary:
In this deeply personal account, a mother reflects on the heart-wrenching decision to end her pregnancy due to a diagnosis of Trisomy 18. She discusses the emotional turmoil surrounding her choice, the challenges presented by local laws, and her commitment to advocating for others facing similar situations. Through her story, she emphasizes the importance of reproductive rights and the need for compassion in healthcare decisions involving unborn children.