I spent the first half of 2015 pregnant and then I had a “late-term abortion.”
My husband and I decided early that year to try to start a family. I succeeded almost immediately in getting pregnant. There was obviously a healthy mix of excitement and terror. While it happened a little quicker than we anticipated, we wanted our baby.
As the months went on I consumed books about pregnancy and the first year of parenthood. I took my vitamins, I ate well, and I barely even missed my former creature comforts like wine and soft cheeses. We did the genetic testing and everything looked great. We learned we were having a girl. We started our baby registry and had chosen her name. It was shaping up to be a typical first pregnancy, right down to the occasional panic attack about our changing reality.
On June 18, 2015, we were scheduled for our 21-week ultrasound. I remember the date because it was our anniversary and we thought it would be a fun way to kick off our weekend together. As the ultrasound wore on the tech became increasingly less chatty and more serious, until finally she left the room with a picture she printed from the ultrasound machine. She was gone for what felt like an excruciatingly long time. When she finally returned, she informed us the only information she was allowed to give was that a high-risk OBGYN would be contacting us soon and we needed to see her as soon as possible. Shortly after our ill-fated ultrasound, we received a call from the high-risk OBGYN and scheduled an appointment for the following week. (More)
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