I've read several diaries here from women who bravely told their abortion stories, how they arrived at their decision, how they felt afterwards, how they feel years later. I want to share mine. While I've always been pro-choice, I never had to make the choice until 1997, the choice was mine, I owned it, and I defy anyone who would interfere with my right to make it. I am a woman of spotty fertility. I married a man who brought with him a son. We had a son together in 1982, and then..nothing. I always wanted a large family but seemingly was incapable of actually hatching one, so I flirted with infertility treatment, gave up, and concentrated on raising the children I had. When our youngest was sixteen, I turned up pregnant. I thought it was the change of life when my periods stopped. I was in my forties and really thought that ship had sailed. Yet there I was, really truly pregnant and fourteen weeks so by the time I had it confirmed.
Our eldest had some mental health issues, and committed suicide at the age of seventeen. I was mortally afraid of dealing with another child with issues I could not fix, so given my age I opted for amniocentesis, confident that if genetic abnormalities existed that I would abort. He was a he and genetically normal. He was also missing half his heart. I discovered this at twenty weeks gestation, and after being well advised by the folks at our nearby teaching hospital I went home to contemplate my choices. At the time, abortion was legal here up to twenty-four weeks.
In 1997 there was less information available on the internet. The first web site I tried, that of the American Heart Association, offered only "these babies die". I found a picture of the baby who received a baboon heart in the 80's in an attempt to correct HLHS so I learned that transplant was an option and that it required an incision that extended the length of an infant's torso. Of course it also required that another child die in order for a heart to be available and fortunately that is not a frequent event. I also discovered that a series of three operations could alter the circulation so that the single ventricle could supply blood to both body and lungs. The five year survival rate for that process is currently 70%, in 1997 it was lower and seemed to be highly dependent on where, and by whom, the operation was performed. With that information in hand, at twenty-two weeks gestation, I set about determining what options would be available to me, and whether I could pay for them. This was made even more problematic by the fact that it was obvious that I or my husband would have to quit work in order to care for a very ill child.
My husband and I met at work. We had both worked for the same company for most of our careers and had always had excellent, though continually eroding, health insurance. During the period that I was trying to decide what options I had should I carry to term our company was being sold to a large defense concern. It proved impossible to determine whether a transplant would be covered or whether I would be able to access a hospital that had a proven record of some success with the alternate procedure. Time was now up, the choice had to be made now. At least I'd had some time to determine the parameters of the choice. Would we gamble our family's financial future if the chance of success was 50%? What if it was only 10%? Was it ethical to consign a baby to a lifetime of painful treatment and potential severe disability in order to fulfill my deep desire to raise him? Would he someday look me in the eye and ask me "Why did you let me live to suffer so?".
With very mixed emotions, I chose to continue the pregnancy. Maybe someday I'll tell the rest of that story. When I started this diary some months ago, I'm not sure I ever intended to publish it, but the renewed talk of a ban on abortion after twenty weeks led me to finish it. I know that had I been faced with my decision in different circumstances I would have chosen differently. I know that the choice was mine to make, in consultation with my family, my doctors, and my god, and that I trust other women to make their own choice. Twenty weeks gestation is about the time when many abnormalities can be detected and no family should be denied the right to determine their destiny in order to prop up the street cred of a few aging senators with their anti-choice constituents.
If you've actually read this mess, I thank you. I hope it's somewhat coherent and that I haven't inadvertently offended anyone.