18 – A personal Story

 

For those that don’t know, this week, May 2-8th is Maternal Mental Health Awareness Week, and today is World Maternal Mental Health Day. For those of us in this field we didn’t know what we would be starting out this week fighting for our rights to remain in place, and yet here we are, and so, here I go.

I’ve always toyed with the idea of sharing the details of my story. In some ways it feels like too much to put out there, and in some ways it feels necessary. Today however I knew that it needed to be shared.

On a Tuesday, August 24th, 2015, I was pulling out of my driveway after a hectic morning of handing off my 2 kids to our fabulous nanny. The kids always cried when I left, and I was generally constantly running late to work. My cell phone rang with a number I didn’t recognize. I was not in the habit of answering unknown numbers, but this time I did. On the other end was an unfamiliar voice who said that the results of a genetic test I had taken at the beginning of my second trimester of my third pregnancy had come back positive for Trisomy 18. Her exact words were, “this is a condition that is incompatible with life, and I would recommend scheduling additional testing to determine how to proceed.”

 

I had no words. I don’t know how the call ended. I had made it about two houses down and I just started to drive. I was in a daze. I drove in the opposite direction of my office, through random neighborhoods with perfectly manicured lawns. I called my husband who was already at work about 45 minutes away and told him what I had been told. I told him I was going to work for the day, and we would talk about it later.

 

Clearly, I was in shock and the weight of those words weren’t sinking in. I headed to my office, thinking this was a mistake, when my husband called again and said he would be at my office in about an hour. He told me to cancel my day and without thinking I just took his direction. I canceled clients and busied myself with unknown tasks until he got there.

 

I vaguely remember walking out of the office and to his car. He drove about half a block, pulled over and said, we need to call the doctor. At the time the health plan we used made it notoriously impossible to actually get your specific doctor on the phone, however, somehow, miraculously our fabulous doctor made time for us and got on the phone. She had not seen the results yet, so we broke the news to her.

 

She gently explained what Trisomy 18 was and did her best to answer whatever questions we had. We had a routine ultrasound scheduled for August 26th. She told us that even though we didn’t have an appointment with her on that day, we should tell the ultrasound technician that we need to see her and that she would make it happen.

 

Faced with a whole day of our thoughts, we headed to the beach. We went to the place we got engaged and just walked. I remember the walk. There are parts of it that are crystal clear. It felt like the world was talking to me. Like nature was more alive. The dolphins were breaching the water, birds were active and loud, the sky was extra blue and a dragonfly stopped right in front of the windshield and seemed to look at me. It was like mother nature was telling me to pay attention. It was, and still is an eerie feeling.

 

We walked, and talked, and cried, and laughed, and we eventually headed home. And then we Googled like crazy. What was Trisomy 18? How often were these genetic tests wrong? What did “incompatible with life” actually mean? And how often were these genetic tests wrong? What did it look like to have a baby with Trisomy 18? And how often were these tests wrong? What was the life expectancy? And was there a chance this test was wrong?

 

This lasted until August 26th, 2015. Our 4th anniversary.

 

The ultrasound room was dim. It had a massive screen and we had been there several times before celebrating our previous babies on the screen. This time felt different. The tech was quieter. I don’t know if she knew, I don’t remember if we told her, I just remember her putting the cold jelly on me and the picture of that very wanted baby popping up on the screen.

 

It’s an image seared in my brain. That little baby was using my body like a trampoline. Literally jumping up and down. They looked happy. Like they were having fun in there. In hindsight I wish I had asked for a video. Of course, watching this little baby jump didn’t last because there was real work to be done. Measurements to take while we held our breath.

 

It was clear that it wasn’t good news. The nuchal fold measurement was way too thick. There were heart abnormalities, brain abnormalities, there were abnormalities everywhere. And yet, here this baby was, jumping up and down. It was in that moment that I knew. I knew that we were not going to get the news that the test was wrong. That the most fun in life this baby would have, was jumping up and down inside of me.

 

With tears streaming down our faces another tech came in we spoke with a genetic counselor and a couple other people, they told us that we should schedule some more tests and were ready to send us on our way.

 

I wasn’t ready to go. I didn’t have enough information and I needed my doctor. The one with the amazing smile. Who saw all of me and treated me like a person, not just a patient. The one who cried too, the one who shared herself and her struggles with us. And she did not disappoint. After a bit of a struggle with the nurses, we were in a room waiting for her. She met us with open arms, a ton of information and all of the possible outcomes she could think of. She pulled strings to allow us to do more testing within the week. And she brought up what had been stuck in my throat the whole time, the choice of a D&E.

 

It’s the thing I feared most. The thing I had promised myself since I was a little girl that I would never do, not ever, in my whole life. And yet, here I was, knowing, that in reality, this was my only option.

 

In my heart, I knew that regardless of what the tests showed I was not going to ever meet this baby in this life. That just an hour prior I had seen all I would see of their life. We scheduled two additional appointments that day. One for additional testing and one for a D&E. And then just like that we left.

 

We went back to the beach. Another walk, another conversation, more options but now with more information. The world wasn’t as alive this time. The fact that it was our anniversary seemed to escape us. We were now making life and death decisions. What would it be like if we decided to bring this baby into the world? Would they suffer? How would it affect our other kids? What if we did nothing and let nature take its course? Could I actually keep going with the pregnancy knowing that at any time the baby could die, knowing that this would consume all of me? Knowing that my young kids (they were 3 and 2 at the time) would watch all of this?

 

In the back of my head, I knew my answer. And we still needed more information and so the next day we went off to a specialist who did more measurements, and more tests and confirmed what I already knew in my heart. This baby would not live a full life. If this baby was carried to term, they would spend their life in the hospital. They would likely not survive the pregnancy, but if they did it would not be the life we pictured. It would not be life at all. They would likely suffer, be in pain and have no quality of life. They would likely not take an independent breath. The question was not if we were going to need to say goodbye, the question was when. As much as I wanted to feel that baby alive inside me forever, I knew that I needed to do the D&E as soon as possible. I called my doctor back and confirmed my appointment for a D&E on September 1, 2015.

 **

This is where I pause to give you a trigger warning. The rest of this story includes graphic descriptions of my personal experience with abortion. Please read with caution and care, particularly if you have experience with reproductive trauma.

 **

On August 31, 2015 I was instructed to insert some medication vaginally. I was told that this would soften my cervix and make the D&E safer for me. I was told it would be uncomfortable. Like super bad period cramps. That description was inaccurate.

 

I remember sitting on the bed in my room crying that I was killing my baby. Wishing that there was another option. Writing in my journal that I wished this was all a nightmare. That we would wake up and things would be right in the world and that we would get to meet this baby in this life. I kept blinking, but nothing was changing. This was real, and this is what I needed to do. So I did it.

 

I stayed awake all night waiting to feel something. My appointment was mid-morning, however I started feeling extreme cramping around 5 or 6 am. When my kids woke up, my husband took care of them while I hid in our bedroom and bathroom. I was back and forth between the floor, bathroom, and bed. I was writhing with pain, crawling along the floor because I couldn’t walk and didn’t want to scare my kids with my screams, and it hit me, I was in labor. Each pain was a contraction. I had felt this before. When my husband came in, I told him I felt like something was wrong. I wasn’t supposed to feel this. I was supposed to be put under and wake up and it would be over. My body obviously had other plans.

 

Through my tears I remember thinking that this was what I deserved for making this choice. The pain was a part of my punishment. And then my water broke. It remains the only time my water has broken naturally. It was then that I knew I would not be making it to the hospital for this. I started passing clots and tissue for what felt like forever. It was horrible and lives in my brain like it was yesterday. I remember the sound it made as it exited my body, the sounds I made through it all and the stunned reaction of my husband.

 

I remember it all. I remember the pain stopping. Like it had after my daughter was born (my son was a different story). And I remember wondering if that was it. If along with the tissue and blood and fluid and clots was our very wanted baby who only days before had been jumping inside my body. I remember wondering if I was going to wake up and find that this wasn’t real, but instead the nightmare of what I had imagined this experience would be like. If I had really made the choice to do this to myself. I remember leaving my bedroom and being greeted by my kids and my father-in-law, who had come to help out while we went to the hospital, and had little idea of what had just happened.

 

I remember getting in the car. I remember driving to the hospital. I remember the world feeling vivid again. I remember my tears. My husbands tears. His hand on the wheel and hand on me, not really knowing what to do or say, filled with his own emotions that there clearly wasn’t space for. I remember talking to my doctor. I remember her being surprised at what had happened and being told that it was unexpected. I remember her doing a quick ultrasound and seeing an empty uterus. I remember being wheeled back and being put under to make sure that all the tissue was out. I remember asking her to save some so that I had something left of this baby to bury, because that is what we do with the dead, right? I remember leaving the hospital and I remember a dragonfly stopping right in front of my car window again. I remember that dragonfly following us home. I remember it being everywhere for days that turned into months, and that I still see today. At some point I remember knowing that dragonfly was our baby’s spirit. And I remember being surprised that a choice I had always vowed not to make, was the right one for me.

 

I remember so much every day and yet today all I can think about is that there is another mother, in this exact same situation, who will not have this choice. This horrible choice that no one wants to make.

 

Abortion isn’t about being reckless. It isn’t a scene in a tv show that is over in two minutes. It’s a decision made by a person with a uterus about what’s right for their body and their life. I am so grateful that I had this choice and I am so sorry that I had to make it.

 

If you feel like this is an abrupt way to end this story, that’s because there is no good way to end it, as it doesn’t have an end. My story is woven into the woman I am today, the mother I was and the one I am continuing to become.

 

If you’re wondering why now, why share this today, well I hope that the answer can be obvious. That today, as we are faced with a freedom being taken away, those of us who have been personally affected can speak up, be loud, join together, and fight for those whose stories are still being written.

#useyourvoice #speakthesecret #roevswade #reproductiverights #womensrightsarehumanrights #strongertogether #MaternalMHMatter #worldMMHday #LetsTalkAboutIT