(Check out part 1 & 2 of this story here: https://lotusmidwest.com/blog/)
Trigger Warning: infertility, miscarriage and abortion
I graduated from the high-risk clinic this time, and I could establish care with a regular old OB. I did what all youngest children do: went with the doctor my sister used. I instantly felt safe and well taken care of. I’d already decided that I would not choose to abort a baby with trisomy 21 (a genetic presentation of Down syndrome), and that’s the big discussion I was posed to have at this appointment.
At the appointment, I learned that the chances are very high that a baby with a trisomy 21 is very likely to miscarry, or spontaneously abort, and if that were to happen at this point or later it would endanger the entire pregnancy. I was “lucky” to lose Baby C so early because my body would absorb that tissue. It was possible that if this abnormality were present I would lose not one, not two, but all three babies. Although I’d been adamant about not being tested, I decided I needed to do everything I could to save the pregnancy and hold those babies in my arms.
What if one of them has trisomy 21? What do we do? We discussed what’s called selective reduction. It happens in medicine for various reasons (remember, health care is complicated), and in this case, if one of the babies had trisomy 21, we’d then have the choice to selectively reduce or not. Selective reduction is an abortion of one (or more) fetuses but one (or more) fetuses remain.
So we went home and talked about the risk and reward. Endlessly. But we both agreed, we had to do it. We wouldn’t forgive ourselves if we didn’t do everything in our power to bring one or both of these babies home.
This was 2012, and there were two ways to do this testing. One is an amniocentesis, but that is only an option after roughly 14 weeks, which makes selective reduction more risky (think a few weeks between testing and results too). The other is called chorionic villus sampling or CVS. That can be done earlier in pregnancy, and so we opted for that.
Remember all of the uncomfortable things I mentioned in an infertility journey? This is bad … or worse. Or awful all around. My partner was gone and I was terrified, and so I chose the people who gave me comfort: my best friend and my sister. They joined me for my terror and held my hand while I cried and trembled and tried not to move a muscle.
We consulted another genetic counselor, then again with the doctor doing the procedure, and then prepared for the testing. They used an ultrasound to detect the pieces of tissue they would need to stick a giant needle into, either through the belly or through the birth canal. I guess I’m lucky because based on the placement of Baby A and Baby B, they did one of each.
This test has risks. Everything has risks. Doing something has risks. Not doing something has risks. Doing something too late, too early, it is all risky.
We are lucky. My babies are turning 11 this month. They’re wild and hilarious and beautiful and smart. And they’re the best things that have ever happened to me.
In the end, I didn’t have to choose whether to abort one fetus to save the other. And if I had had to choose, I know it would not have been easy. But I had the choice to choose, and it gave me perspective on what that choice is like and what it means. No person or mother should be robbed of the ability to make whatever choice is best for her and her family.
Imagine if selective reduction was the path I was forced to choose. Imagine if I chose that to save one baby rather than lose them both. Imagine if on the morning of that procedure, I’d been forced to walk down a sidewalk where protestors were screaming that what I was doing was murder when all I was doing was everything necessary to save my baby. It’s an awful thing to imagine.
Abortion is health care, and health care is complicated. This isn’t easy to write, and it isn’t easy to share. Pregnancy is a risky endeavor – I certainly know firsthand. My pregnancy ended with two beautiful girls, but I was faced with a difficult decision I’m grateful I never had to make. I am lucky. We are lucky.