As a physician who advocates for women’s health, I have always supported the pro-choice movement. However, I personally hold anti-abortion views. I respect the myriad reasons women may decide to terminate a pregnancy, but I believed that, when the time came, I would find a way to navigate the challenges of motherhood. That belief changed dramatically one fateful day.
During a routine anatomy ultrasound at 19 weeks, the technician’s silence made me uneasy. Despite trying to reassure myself, I soon realized my fears were justified. We saw our baby’s profile, heard her heartbeat, and learned we were expecting a girl. Then the doctor entered the room.
Our daughter, whom we named Lily, was diagnosed with skeletal dysplasia. My partner squeezed my hand, trying to maintain a brave face. While we were initially relieved that she was alive, the doctor soon uttered the word “lethal,” revealing the gravity of her condition. Lily’s skeletal problems meant that, although I could carry her to term, she would not survive long after birth due to severe respiratory failure.
Faced with the heartbreaking choice, we saw no alternative: we could either terminate the pregnancy now or endure the unimaginable pain of watching her suffer after birth. We opted for the former. The thought of prolonging her suffering was unbearable. I was determined to spare her the inevitable anguish that would accompany her brief life.
No parent expects to face such dire circumstances. I found myself wishing that Lily could simply be born with dwarfism, a condition we could manage and love her through. But I could not justify allowing her to suffer, even if it meant enduring pain myself.
The support we received from friends and family was overwhelming. Many who identified as pro-life reassured us that we were making the right choice for Lily. This situation was far from typical, and while we understood this, societal perspectives often remained entrenched in misunderstanding.
Despite our resolve, we encountered obstacles. Our insurance would only cover expenses if I carried Lily to term and she died naturally. We had already decided against that path, which meant we faced the prospect of incurring debt for the procedure. This was not a decision made lightly; we wanted Lily and wished for her presence, but we understood she was not meant for this world.
The procedure unfolded over two days. On the first morning, fear gripped me. I spent the morning in tears, but it wasn’t until I lay on the table that the enormity of our loss hit me. My partner placed his head on my belly and whispered, “I love you, Lily.” In that moment, the depth of our grief became nearly unbearable. Though the procedure was for me, it impacted many lives.
Medications were administered to ease my anxiety and manage pain. They placed laminaria in my cervix to prepare for the procedure, and then they injected Lily to cease her heartbeat. I would never feel her move again.
In the hours following, I felt a profound emptiness. Soon, the physical discomfort escalated, and labor began unexpectedly. We rushed to the clinic, two hours ahead of schedule.
Outside, protesters shouted, wielding images meant to shock. However, I felt detached from their claims. I had done my research and understood the complexities of our situation. I was a knowledgeable adult, making a decision rooted in compassion, even if it was painful.
Once inside the clinic, my water broke almost immediately. The procedure began swiftly. I was no longer afraid; Lily’s comfort had become my sole focus.
Afterward, the nurse assisted me, and the doctor brought my daughter to me. Though her appearance had been altered by the procedure, I spent precious moments cradling her and whispering words of love. I was awestruck by her beauty and perfection.
Since that day, my emotions have been complex. I often find myself speaking about Lily as if she were still with us, as we had always envisioned. Despite the procedure, I struggle with the reality of her absence.
I refuse to refer to her as “the fetus” or say that I “terminated my pregnancy.” Her name is Lily, and I made a choice to prevent her suffering. This is not merely a statistic or a political statement; it is my personal experience. While others are entitled to their views, no one has the right to judge my decision. This has been the most devastating chapter of my life, yet I wouldn’t alter a thing. I will carry the memory of Lily with me every day, taking solace in knowing she felt only love and warmth during her brief time with me.
Resources for Exploring Pregnancy Options
For those exploring options for pregnancy, including home insemination procedures, an excellent resource can be found at UCSF’s IVF page. If you’re interested in learning more about at-home insemination, consider checking out Make a Mom’s guide. For further insights into cervical insemination methods, visit Intracervical Insemination.
Summary
In this reflective piece, Dr. Emily Johnson shares her deeply personal experience with making the heart-wrenching decision to terminate a pregnancy due to a lethal diagnosis. The narrative highlights the emotional complexities parents face when confronted with such circumstances and challenges societal perceptions of abortion. Through her story, she emphasizes the importance of compassion and understanding in discussions surrounding women’s reproductive choices.