We decided to terminate our pregnancy. I find it hard to write that. I feel like I need to justify to myself and to others that our decision was one in a range of morally acceptable decisions we could make. I don’t know if it was.
Once we learned that our baby had 100% Down Syndrome chromosomes and a likely heart defect, it was as though the decision about whether we would terminate had been made for us. Even so, we researched all the possible outcomes for our baby. Some of these outcomes seemed bearable to me, others not. I found it difficult to turn my mind to the fact that at forty years old our child may well only have a mental age of seven. That he or she would likely be infertile and may never have a family. That he or she may require constant care his or her whole life. That care may be required well beyond my life, or my husband’s life, what then? It was hard to digest.
I despised myself for thinking about terminating the pregnancy. To me, our reasoning for terminating was entirely selfish. We wanted our child to have a full life, to be able to do all the things we wanted him or her to be able to do. To not burden our son once we were no longer around. Writing this, two months later, I am still coming to grips with what it all means.
In our hearts though, the decision had been made.
We rang BEP, our obstetrician on the Monday morning after learning of our baby’s condition a few days earlier. I was crying before I could say it. But I did say it, somehow. We wanted to terminate the pregnancy that coming Friday, please.