Voices, Episode 1: I Had An Abortion in January

Voices is a new post series where people submit personal stories to me anonymously so that they might share them safely. 

If you have a story you'd like to share with the world; a confession weighing on your conscience, an experience you believe will help others, an open letter you've been dying to let out, but feel you can't do it safely within your friend/family/social media circle, consider submitting it here.

source: Britannica.com

I had an abortion in January.

My child and spouse have chromosome disorders. Different ones, but related. We’d seen a geneticist and genetic counselor. They told us all of our options for having more children, given us the odds of different scenarios. An elevated chance of miscarriage, 10-25% chance of having another child with a chromosome disorder. My spouse and I spent months, maybe years mulling over these numbers, thinking through every course of action. We finally were in a place where having another child didn’t seem overwhelming, our son was doing relatively well. His seizures were controlled, he wasn’t walking or talking yet, but he was in preschool. It was a good time.

I was pregnant after our first try. My due date was one day before the summer solstice. My son was born on the winter solstice. It seemed perfect, meant to be.

Every time I visited my OB, I expected her to say there was no heartbeat, but there always was. I didn’t know if I was excited or just scared. During our decision-making period, my spouse and I had decided we would do the invasive testing to look for chromosome disorders. We knew having another child with special needs was not right for our family. The nearest facility to have prenatal genetic testing done was seventy miles away. The first test couldn’t be done. The doctor said it was too risky. We had to wait another four weeks.

I felt frozen, paralyzed, like my life wasn’t really moving forward. I was almost sixteen weeks along at the next testing appointment. This time my son was very antsy during the ultrasound. I told my spouse he should take him back to the waiting room, I would be fine for the procedure. The doctor came in and did her own ultrasound. She said we needed to talk and asked if I wanted someone with me for support. It was hydrops. There was fluid buildup around the heart, the skin, the brain. It was a sign of a chromosome disorder. We could still do testing. We could discontinue the pregnancy. We could wait to have a stillbirth. We could possibly go to term and deliver. I said there was no need to do the test today, but could we do it after termination? I went back to the genetic counselor’s office to wait for my spouse. I had to tell him. We both knew this meant we would terminate.

I could have the termination at the hospital, a surgical procedure or they could induce labor. Insurance wouldn’t cover it. It would be $15,000, but I could get at least a 40% discount. The other option was Planned Parenthood. It would be $1,000 for a surgical abortion. There were consent forms and a 24 hour waiting period. I signed the forms there, in the genetic counselor’s office. Planned Parenthood couldn’t get me in until the following week. I would be 17 weeks and 2 days. It would cost $900.

I was just starting to feel movement. I still had morning sickness. I was lucky enough to have parents who understood. They stayed with my son while my spouse and I went up the night before. There were two cars parked on the street outside the clinic with anti-abortion stickers. I had been warned there might be protestors. My spouse and I sat in the car, we were early. It began to snow as we walked in. A protestor appeared out of nowhere, calling for us to come talk to him, he could help us, I didn’t have to do this.

I was the first patient to arrive for the day. The lobby and waiting room were quiet and empty. There were more forms to sign and information to read. My spouse couldn’t come with me for the ultrasound. Only I was allowed in the back. I was measuring almost a week behind and I had proof of my blood type. The cost came down to $790. The procedure itself was short, but dilating my cervix would take time. The woman who took me back for the first step held my hand while the doctor inserted the medication. The doctor told me this was my last chance to change my mind. I had to watch a video and have blood drawn. There was a small waiting room with heating pads and recliners. I took a nap. Another woman called my name and took me to a different procedure room. There were more people than I expected. The woman who had held my hand was there. A nurse warned me sometimes the medications made the clouds on the ceiling move for people. The ceiling moved for me, the clouds didn’t. I wanted to know if it was a boy or a girl, but I didn’t ask. When it was over, the nurses helped me get dressed. I would be able to go home soon.

I hadn’t announced my pregnancy. Only a few people knew I was pregnant. I couldn’t tell people until I knew what would happen. I said I wouldn’t be having a baby, we’d gotten bad news at an ultrasound. Few people knew the whole story. I’m not ashamed, just sad. I wish I could tell people what happened. I wish people would understand.