Life is filled with certainties; we often believe we know exactly how we would react in any given situation. I was one of those people when it came to the subject of abortion. My stance was clear: I identified as pro-choice but firmly believed I would never choose to have an abortion myself. That was my truth.
However, everything changed during my sophomore year in college when I was raped. I vividly remember contemplating what I would do if I became pregnant. The thought of seeing my rapist’s features in my child was unbearable, yet I felt I could manage the situation. I believed I would continue to celebrate my child’s life, even in such tragic circumstances. Thankfully, I never had to confront that decision at that time.
As I moved forward in life, eager to start a family, I held onto my beliefs about abortion. During my initial pregnancy, we were offered various genetic tests but opted out of most. I confidently told my partner that it didn’t matter; even if results indicated abnormalities, we wouldn’t terminate the pregnancy. So why bother with testing?
Still, being a science enthusiast, we did participate in basic screenings like the nuchal translucency test and the anatomy scan, both of which returned positive results. Our family welcomed a healthy toddler, and I felt reassured in my beliefs.
Fast forward to my second pregnancy, and again I thought I knew my truth about abortion. But this time, the situation took an unexpected turn. When I underwent the first trimester screening, the ultrasounds appeared normal, but the blood work indicated a 1 in 77 chance of Down syndrome. Following medical advice, we decided to pursue further testing.
We opted for a cell-free DNA test, which analyzes DNA from both me and the baby in my bloodstream. The results revealed a devastating likelihood that our daughter, whom we named Mia, had a fatal condition known as trisomy 13.
Faced with heart-wrenching news, we sought as much information as we could. An amniocentesis confirmed our worst fears: Mia had full trisomy 13, and there was no chance for survival. Our choices now were painfully clear:
- Carry to Term and Fight: This option involved extensive medical intervention, including surgeries and probable suffering for Mia, along with significant risks to my health.
- Carry to Term with Palliative Care: This would mean no life-saving measures, but it could result in pain for Mia and emotional turmoil for our family.
- Early Induction: We could choose to terminate the pregnancy for medical reasons, allowing us to hold Mia and donate her body to science, sparing her from pain.
- Typical Abortion Procedure: This option would end the pregnancy, but we wouldn’t be able to hold her or donate her body.
Ultimately, we chose early induction at 19.5 weeks. As the process began, I had to take a pill to terminate the pregnancy. Signing the paperwork that labeled it as an “abortion” left me feeling hollow and distressed. These terms felt so unfair, especially since Mia was deeply loved and wanted.
I had previously associated abortion with those who faced unplanned pregnancies due to recklessness, never truly understanding the nuances of the situation until I found myself in the midst of it. I hadn’t considered the woman who was raped, the one whose birth control failed, or the one who received grim news about her baby’s health.
This is where many of us go wrong—we think we know how we would respond until we are faced with the unimaginable. There exists a silent community of women who endure the pain of losing a child through a desired pregnancy yet feel isolated due to societal stigma. They often remain quiet, fearing judgment from friends and family.
I am now proud to share Mia’s story. Speaking out honors her brief life and connects with others who may feel alone in their experiences. I am proud to say that I had an abortion, even though that term cuts deeply into my heart. It implies that I didn’t want Mia, which couldn’t be further from the truth.
In her brief 11 minutes of life outside the womb, Mia experienced nothing but love. I am grateful that we were able to make a compassionate choice that spared her suffering and honored her memory. My husband and I emerged from this experience stronger, supporting each other through the hardest period of our lives.
I stand as a voice for those who silently suffer and assure them they are not alone. We are a community of women who never thought we would be in this position, and I refuse to let our voices be silenced. If you want to read more about pregnancy and home insemination, check out this excellent resource. For more insight into healthy recipes, visit this link.
In summary, my journey through pregnancy and loss reshaped my understanding of abortion. Life can lead us down paths we never anticipated, and our beliefs may evolve in ways we never thought possible. We must recognize the complexity of these decisions and support one another with compassion.