Late-Term Abortion in Wanted Pregnancies

This is the final ultrasound image we received before the fetus was euthanized with a shot of digoxin.  It was a hearbreaking moment looking at the screen, seeing the baby move and being able to make out the profile of her face, and knowing what was to be her fate.  My husband and I asked the doctor to see the image of the baby one last time and for us, it was a very helpful “coming to terms” moment that we do not regret.  Had it been an earlier abortion or an unwanted pregnancy, I’m sure I would not have wanted to see a final ultrasound like this.  More recently, I have learned that legislation is being passed across the country to mandate ultrasound viewing in abortion care, usually as a means to manipulate the women’s decision-making process, which I find both sneaky and scary.  To find out more about mandated ultrasound viewing in abortion care, click the link below.

http://www.ansirh.org/research/ultrasound.php

Final ultrasound at 19 weeks. Initially, it was nice to have these tangible mementos, even if it was only to confirm and remind us of the existence of our ill-fated pregnancy.

A week and a half before the final ultrasound above, we received this ultrasound at 17 weeks from the perinatologists, right after they told us there was something catastrophically wrong with the baby’s heart.

Ultrasound at 17 weeks--the appointment that found severe defects in the baby's heart, "incompatible with life". The image is so clear and "normal" looking! If it were so "catastrophic," how could the fetus have survived for so long and look so peaceful like this, we wondered. The news that our baby most likely had a "chromosomal problem" and that we would soon have to terminate the pregnancy, was devastating.

And, here is the first ultrasound our OBGYN took to confirm the pregnancy in the initial weeks of pregnancy.  Things were looking peachy back then.

The first ultrasound that brought such excitement and joy, confirming the pregnancy from our OBGYN.

The last thing before going into surgery that I wanted to think about was the type of wood for the baby’s urn–the final receptacle that would hold the ashes of the cremated baby, but the clinic staff surprised us by asking us detailed questions about cremation, urns and related merchandise.  Although it was off-putting at the time, I was grateful that I was given the option of having a private company perform the cremation (instead of the more crass-sounding legally mandated “medical disposal” option), and given another option to keep the remains of the baby if we wished.  The basic services for the funeral director and staff overseeing the process cost $225 and the urn (walnut/cherry), $110–not a cheap keepsake.  We also looked into the possibility of interring the urn in my father’s grave but it turned out that it was cost prohibitive and a difficult process.  The total for the cremation and the urn was over $300, but we were glad we did it–the urn surprisingly served an important role in our grief process.  Although our original plan was to scatter the baby’s ashes into the ocean, the urn comforted us so much that we decided to keep it in our home as a reminder of life’s fleeting presence.

ABOVE: The walnut/cherry urn from Atlantis Cremation & Burial that stores the baby’s ashes inside.  We thought of scattering the baby’s ashes but found that the urn has a comforting presence for us and kept in on the mantel instead…I know, a little odd for a mantelpiece!

Although it may seem  morbid to some, one thing my husband and I are so glad we requested was to get the hand and footprints of the baby after the termination procedure.  It is one of the only tangible items we possess from that life-changing experience and not only does it help us to remember the experience and the baby,  it also confirmed to us in those imprints that our baby did in fact have serious deformities– having 6 digits in each foot, instead of 5.  Having initially been in denial about our situation and then wondering if the tests could all just be wrong, this concrete proof of our baby having Trisomy 13 (Patau Syndrome) helped comfort us more than any blurry ultrasound or test result ever could.  This still sits on our mantel next to the urn (which contains the ashes that we never scattered) and even with each passing year, is difficult to put away.