A non-Kansas story

It was almost four years ago today when I decided to end my third pregnancy and I still remember it like it was yesterday. I was expecting my second child (my first pregnancy ended in miscarriage and I had a 14 month old daughter) and was having a fairly easily, uneventful pregnancy other than some bleeding in the first trimester. I went in for my big ultrasound, ready to find out if I was having a boy or a girl and excited about shopping for baby clothes than afternoon with my mom and sister.
Instead, I found out that my son was very sick… he had a defect in his abdominal wall, he would need surgery immediately after birth, they were referring me for more advanced pre-natal care and my doctor would review the full results with me when she got them. Two weeks later I sat in my doctor’s office as she told me that the report had showed he may not have kidneys- a condition called renal agenesis that is always fatal, but that they may be able to see more in my upcoming level II ultrasound. At the level II ultrasound we found out the full extent of my son’s defects.
He had a limb wall body complex- in addition to no kidneys and an abdominal wall defect, he had a hole in his heart, underdeveloped lungs, scoliosis and fluid on his brain. He had no anal opening and after he was born we learned he also had no external sex organs. Due to his lack of kidneys, he had no amniotic fluid and he was born with bruises from where he was bumping against my uterus. I was 22 weeks pregnant when I was told that he had no chance of survival and was told by the doctor that he could schedule a termination that day. I was scared and unsure of what to do, so I told the doctor I was planning on carrying the child to term. Care was transferred to my doctor as I no longer needed advanced care.
The next 5 weeks were agony- I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep, I was missing work, I was sobbing hysterically every time I felt fetal movement. My blood pressure had risen dramatically, I was experiencing contractions. After numerous ultrasounds confirming the diagnosis, consultation with my doctor and several close friends, and weeks of tearful discussions between my husband and I, we decided to induce labor at 27 weeks. Fortunate to live where I do, I was able to stay in my home town with my own doctor, a wonderful and compassionate doctor who made this horrific situation a little bit easier.
The anti-choicers will tell you that I’m a murderer, that I should have let my son continue to live in the uterus that was beating him, but I know that I did what was right for my son and my family. That American women have lost a compassionate doctor that helped them in their darkest times makes me sad. That the anti-choicers seek to demonize women like me and the doctors that help us makes me angrier than I can possibly describe.