Roe V Wade 40th Anniversary reading

This is the piece I read at Planned Parenthood's Roe v Wade 40th Anniversary event. This will soon be part of the U.S. Congressional Library. 

The Evan Amendment by Holly Scheuren

 

It was 4 years ago and it still feels like it was yesterday.

 

Our daughter Maia was 2 years old and we were halfway through our second pregnancy, I could feel our baby moving.   I had my “20 week ultrasound” when I was actually 21 weeks pregnant.  We were so excited.

 

At the ultrasound, the technician told us that we’re having a baby boy!  I thought “A boy?  I know nothing about raising a boy!”

 

The technician joked with us that he must have his legs tucked up under him.  Then she just got really quiet, finished the ultrasound and led us into the waiting room.  We called our moms to tell them that we are having a BOY!  They were equally excited. 

 

Minutes later, we were called back.  The nurse practitioner was VERY serious.  I asked if there was something wrong. And she said “Well, yes.  Your baby’s limbs are measuring in the 5^th percentile and you need to have another ultrasound with another doctor.”  My mind was blank… what do you mean, his limbs are in the 5^th percentile?  Is that dwarfism?” I asked.  She said the physician would answer my questions.  She said don’t go on-line looking for answers, but of course that’s what I did.

 

I could not be seen for 3 days.  In those 3 days I researched what is meant when a fetus has short limbs… it must be some form of dwarfism.  I read how it may be associated with Down’s syndrome. I was preparing to have a baby with Down’s syndrome or dwarfism.  I started researching support groups in Madison.  I started thinking about how we would eventually have to remodel our kitchen to accommodate a person with dwarfism.  I was crying and wondering what kind of life my boy would have.  Would it be better to have Dwarfism or Down’s syndrome?  …

When I called my Dad and told him that the baby probably has dwarfism.  In his best job to comfort me, he said “well, them are nice people, too.”   (that actually made me laugh).

I knew that both my family and I were ready for this.

 

We had no idea.

 

The 3 days until my ultrasound were torture. The day of, I was dizzy with anticipation. I tried to crack jokes but soon, the room was filled only with clicks on the computer. At one point, they turned the screen to show me my baby!  They got a shot of my baby giving the “I love you” in sign language!  He was telling me he loves me. They printed a picture of my baby. He looked peaceful.  He looked normal

 

After a long wait, the genetic counselor came in and wrote 2 long words on a piece of paper and turned it towards us and slowly read out loud “Thanatoporic dysplasia”.  “What’s that??? I interrupted.

 

She said it is a rare form of dwarfism.  “Oh, so our baby will be a dwarf.”  The air was so thick.  Pointing at the first word she said “thanatophoric” means “imminent death”.  WHAT?? What do you mean??? My head was screaming, even though the room was completely silent.

 

She explained our baby’s long bones were short.  His skull is strawberry shaped.  His jaw is deformed.  His brain has a lot of fluid in it.  If he was born, he would not be able to breathe because his lungs could not expand in his tiny rib cage.  I pleaded “maybe his bone growth will catch up with the rest of his body!!  Maybe he will just be very small!”  She said that the baby would not survive much past birth. 

 

I felt like I couldn’t breathe.  The doctor came back into the room.  I showed her the ultrasound picture “But he looks normal and peaceful!”

 

They then told us that we have two options.  We can choose to terminate the pregnancy, or carry the baby to term, and the delivery staff would be ready with ventilators and pain management until the baby died.  My regular doctor happened to be on call that day; she came into the room and hugged me.  She said she also looked at the ultrasound, and the baby was not going to live.

 

We were devastated. What would we do?? Part of me wanted to give birth to him, just so I could hold him.  But I knew that the image of seeing him suffer would haunt me for the rest of my life.   

 

We decided we would end the pregnancy.   

 

When the genetic counselor returned I told her we decided to terminate, and wanted it done at a hospital.  She said that the hospital refers all abortions procedures to the Planned  Parenthood’s health center where abortions are still available.    I did NOT want to go to a clinic and walk through protesters on one of the worst days of my life.

 

 The genetic counselor, confirmed no hospital would perform this abortion, and she would schedule an appointment for me at Planned Parenthood.

 

We went to Olin park and just sat in the car, crying.  Calling our parents, calling my boss.  All this time, I could feel the baby alive moving inside of me.  My son.  Alive and inside of me. 

 

Our counselor called with more had bad news.  To comply with Wisconsin’s 24 hour waiting period law, I would be too far along to have the procedure at Planned Parenthood.  She said there is a clinic in Chicago who could see me in a few days.  If they assessed that the baby was too big, then I would have to go to Kansas. 

 

She said the abortion in Chicago is a 3 day process, so I would need to get a hotel.  Over this time they would slowly dilate my cervix with bamboo reeds and would do the procedure Friday morning and it would cost $1500 cash. 

 

Now I am calling my Dad to ask for money.  Word of this spread fast at work and someone took up a collection that raised $200.  My Dad gave us $1000 and we came up with the rest.  Our moms bought the hotel room and came with us, along with our 2 year old daughter Maia. 

 

The clinic was in an unfamiliar neighborhood and there were tons of protesters with signs about killing babies.  I expected this, but I didn’t expect them to SHOUT at me.  JESUS!! They have NO CLUE why I am having an abortion.  They don’t know what I am going through.  I wanted to scream SHUT UP!!

 

The clinic staff were friendly but the 70’s decor waiting room had no privacy.  I was crying, my mom was holding me, and people were staring at me.  I wanted to explain to everyone that my baby was going to die.

 

My name was called and the nurse did an ultrasound, I finally went to a room that looked like an operating room, put my feet up in the stirrups and had reeds inserted into my cervix.  OUCH!! It felt like the worst period cramps ever!

 

Friday morning, lying on my hotel bed, my partner and our moms all laid their hands on my belly.  We said prayers.  We said goodbye.  Goodbye baby boy.  Goodbye Evan. 

 

On Friday there were even more protesters.  They must know that this is “abortion day”.  They yelled that a girl just died here last week. 

 

Inside, the staff was friendly and warm, but I felt like we were cattle, being moved from one room to the next, just wearing a thin gown. No privacy, no loved ones.

 

Finally, I went into the surgery room, was put under anesthesia and I woke up to a nurse calling my name.   “Holly... wake up.  Holly”  I opened my eyes.  I was in a room with maybe 20 other women all lined up in beds.  I felt like I was dreaming.  I remember looking at the floor and it seemed far, far away.  I felt so dizzy.  I knew something was wrong the minute I threw up the ginger ale that I just drank. 

 

The nurses wanted to bring me back to the recovery room.  On the way there, I felt so dizzy, I fell on the floor with one of them.  I peed all over!! The anesthesiologist came and asked me some questions, gave me a shot to help me wake up.  I started having horrible rib pain and I couldn’t stay awake. I could hear the nurse ask me questions, but I felt like I was dreaming.

 

The doctor said there was nothing unusual about my procedure and would check back with me.  I felt so alone.  My ribs were killing me. The nurse told me they would allow me to either bring back my mom or my partner.  I chose my mom. 

 

My mom stared into my face.  She held my hand. She told the nurse that something was very wrong.  Then the clinic director came and sat with us. And while they talked, I kept passing out.

 

 

My mom suggested to the doctor and anesthesiologist it might be pulmonary embolism.  The doctor said when he was done he would call an ambulance and go with us to Northwestern Hospital.  If they called an emergency ambulance, they would take us to the nearest hospital, which was Catholic and he wanted me to go to Northwestern. 

 

All the women were recovered and going home.  Except me.  Around 5pm, the ambulance came.  The EMT lifted me onto the bed.  I screamed in pain.  WHAT WAS HAPPENING TO ME?

 

The ride to Northwestern seemed to take forever. 

 

The emergency room doctor said he needed to wait for an emergency OB/GYN, who then did a trans-vaginal ultrasound and told me I would need a cat scan right away. They put a catheter in me and my urine was brown.  My Mom panicked and thought my organs were shutting down. (my Mom watched WAY too many ER shows at the time…)

 

The emergency doctor came back and said my uterus had been perforated during the abortion and I was bleeding internally.  He said they may have to take my uterus. 

 

I heard my Mom on the phone to my dad, crying about what was happening.  The doctor told me that they had to wait for a special team of OB/GYN doctors and specialized nurses.  I waited just staring into darkness.  Hearing the fear in my Mom’s voice, I just kept thinking about my daughter Maia.  Then in walks in the anesthesiologist…

 

The next thing I remember, I was in a bed, looking at big Chicago buildings and it looked like dawn.  There was a man looking at me.  I asked him if I lost my uterus.  He said “yes.” I remember pleading: “Why didn’t they just sew it back up??”  I was stunned and cryng. 

My partner had to take the moms and Maia back to Madison.  My mom came in to hug and kiss me, and then they left.  I’ve never felt so alone.

 

The doctor who did the surgery came in.  He held my hand.  He told me that I am a very lucky person, that I lost 2 liters of blood and nearly died.   

 

I was in the hospital for 4 days, including Mother’s Day.  My Mother’s Day was spent looking out at a rainy, cold Chicago, again thinking about Maia, who was in Madison with her Grandma.  I had no baby boy, no uterus, and I nearly lost my life.  Maia almost lost her Mother. 

 

Flash forward a month.  The bills start rolling in…surgery room $17,000…. Anesthesiologist $11,000… Facility charges $75,000…………..

AND….. my insurance denied EVERYTHING because expenses were related to a non-covered service.  My insurance company only covered abortions if the mother’s life was in danger.  Not if the baby’s life was in danger. 

 

It seemed like I was sobbing 20 hours a day.  I didn’t want to talk to anyone except my mom. 

 

I started going through the appeals process which kept getting denied.  I was supposed to appeal, in front of the appeals board, made up of people I work for!  I was filled with anxiety and dread THEN, my insurance case worker called and said someone at my company went up the chain to the top to plead my case.  The person at the top decided that our insurance company would cover all my expenses at 100% AND that a new policy would be implemented for all members to cover abortion care for fatal fetal anomalies!!!!  I call this the Evan Amendment!!

 

Hallelujah. 

 

A great way to get through my grief was to bury myself into the world of adoption as I wanted second child. 

 

A year and a half later, my mom and I flew to Ethiopia to bring home our beautiful daughter Amara Selamawit. 

 

No family should have to go through what I went through. Hospitals should be performing later-term abortions.  I can’t help but wonder how the outcome would have been different had I been able to have my abortion done at a safe, modern hospital.

 

No one should have to suffer while trying to do what’s right for their children. 

 

The End. 

 

 

 

 

Speech to Planned Parenthood

On December 1, 2012, I gave this speach to a board at Planned Parenthood.  I may be chosen to give this speech at a Roe v. Wade event in January.  This is condensed from the whole story in order to fit into my allocated time.

Planned Parenthood ~ Holly Scheuren

4 years ago and it still feels like it was yesterday.

My partner and I were pregnant with our second baby.  Our daughter, Maia was 2 years old.  I was halfway through the pregnancy and I could feel my baby moving inside of me.  It was such an exciting feeling.  I was so looking forward to welcoming this little baby into our family.

I had my “20 week ultrasound” when I was actually 21 weeks pregnant. 

At the ultrasound, the technician told us that we’re having a baby boy!  I thought “A boy?  I know nothing about raising a boy!”

The technician joked with us that he was hiding his legs and that they must be tucked up under him.  Then she just got really quiet, finished the ultrasound and led us into the waiting room.  While we were in the waiting room, we called our Moms to tell them that we are having a BOY!  They were as excited as we were. 

Minutes later, we were called back into the exam room.  When the nurse practitioner came in she was VERY serious.  I asked if there was something wrong? and she said “well, yes.  Your baby’s limbs are measuring in the 5^th percentile. And we need you to go to St Mary’s to have another ultrasound done and to meet with another doctor.”  My mind was blank… what do you mean, his limbs are in the 5^th percentile?  Is that dwarfism?” I asked.  She said they would have answers for me at St Mary’s.  She told me to avoid going online to get answers, but of course that’s what I did.

St Mary’s couldn’t see me for 3 days.  In those 3 days, thousands of thoughts were going through my head.  I researched what is meant when fetuses have short limbs… it must be some form of dwarfism.  I read an article about how it may be associated with Down’s syndrome as well. I was preparing to either have a baby with Down’s syndrome or dwarfism.  I started researching support groups in Madison.  I started thinking about how we would eventually have to remodel our kitchen to accommodate a person with dwarfism.  I was crying and wondering what kind of life my boy would have.  Would it be better to have Dwarfism or Down’s syndrome?  …

When I called my Dad and told him that the baby probably has dwarfism.  In his best job to comfort me, He said “well, them are nice people, too.”   (that actually made me laugh).

I knew that both my family and I were ready for this.

We had no idea.

Those 3 days until my ultrasound were torture.The day of I was soo nervous, my palms were sweaty, I was dizzy with anticipation. I kept trying to crack jokes with the nurse to ease my tension, but soon, the room was filled only with the sound of her clicks on the computer. The doctor came in and stood with the tech, by the computer, looking at images of my baby. At one point, they turned the screen to show me my baby!  They got a shot of my baby giving the “I love you” sign language sign with his fingers!  .  It was like a message from him telling me that he loves me.  At that point I knew everything would be all right.

Then they finished up the ultrasound and printed us a picture of my baby.  To me, it looked like any other ultrasound pic. He looked peaceful.  He looked normal to me. 

They led us into a small room with lots of books and no windows.  It seemed like we waited in there for hours…Then, Melissa, a genetic counselor, came in and introduced herself to us.  Then she sat down across from us and wrote 2 long words on a piece of paper.  “Thanatophoric Dysplasia” and then she turned the paper so we could read it. 

She pointed to the words as she said them slowly out loud: “Thanatoporic dysplasia”.  “What’s that???”, I interrupted.

She said that it is a rare form of dwarfism.  I said “oh, so our baby will be a dwarf.”  She just looked at us.  The air was so thick. She pointed to the first word “thanatophoric means “imminent death”.  WHAT?? What do you mean??? My head was screaming, even though the room was completely silent.  What do you mean?  I feel like I asked that questions a thousand times in those few seconds. 

She explained that all of our baby’s long bones were short.  His skull is strawberry shaped.  His jaw is deformed.  His brain has a lot of fluid in it.  If he was born, he would not be able to breathe because his lungs could not expand in his tiny rib cage. 

I pleaded “maybe his bone growth will catch up with the rest of his body!!  Maybe he will just be very small!”  Melissa looked grim and my optimism ended.  She said that the baby would not survive much past birth. 

I felt like I couldn’t breathe.  Tears were streaming down my face.  The doctor came back into the room.  I showed her the ultrasound picture “But he looks normal and peaceful!”

They then told us that we have two options.  We can choose to terminate the pregnancy, or we can choose to carry the baby to birth.  If I chose to carry the baby to birth, the staff would be ready with ventilators and pain management until the baby died. 

I had to make the decision quickly since I was already in my 22^nd week of pregnancy. Then, my regular doctor, Dr Demopoulos, came into the room!  She happened to be oncall at St Mary’s and heard about our situation.  She gave me a huge, long hug.  She told me that she also looked at the ultrasound.  The baby was not going to live. 

We were devastated and going back and forth from being stunned to sobbing.  What would we do?? If I carried the baby to term, he would not be able to breathe.  He would suffer, we would have to watch him struggle and, then he would die.  That’s horrible.  Part of me wanted to give birth to him, just so I could hold him, even if only for a few hours.  But I knew that the image of seeing him suffer would haunt me for the rest of my life.   

We decided we would terminate the pregnancy.   

Melissa came back into the room.  I told her that we decided to terminate the pregnancy. I told her I wanted this to be done at a hospital.  She said that the hospital refers all of their abortions to the abortion clinic.   I’ve seen the protesters outside of abortion clinics, I did NOT want to go to a clinic and have to walk through their protests on one of the worst days of my life.

 Melissa left the room to make some calls.  She came back in, confirmed that the hospital would not do this abortion, and that she would schedule an appointment for me at the clinic and that she would call me that afternoon with more details. 

We left with heavy hearts.  We went to Olin park and just sat in the car, crying.  Calling our parents, calling my boss.  All this time, I could feel the baby alive moving inside of me.  My son.  Alive and inside of me. 

As we were sitting there, Melissa called.  She had bad news.  The clinic in Madison could not see me until the next week, and by then, by baby would be too big for them to abort.  She said that there is a clinic in Chicago called the Family Planning Clinic who could see me in a few days.  If they assessed that the baby was too big, then I would have to go to Kansas. 

She explained that abortions at the clinic in Chicago are a 3 day process, so I would need to get a hotel for 3 days.  They slowly dilate you with bamboo reeds and then the procedure is done on Friday morning.  And the procedure would be $1500 cash. 

Wow.  Ok, so now I am calling my Dad to ask for money.  Word of this spread fast at work and someone took up a collection that raised $200.  My Dad gave us $1000 and we came up with the rest.  Our Moms bought the hotel room and came with us, along with our 2 year old daughter Maia. 

Off we go to Chicago! The clinic was in a neighborhood I had never been to before and of course, there were a ton of protesters with signs about killing babies.  I expected this, but I didn’t expect them to SHOUT at me.  JESUS!! They have NO CLUE why I am having an abortion.  They don’t know me or what I am going through. 

I felt like screaming to them SHUT UP!!

The clinic staff were friendly, but the waiting room was straight out of the 70;s and there was absolutely no privacy.  I was crying, my Mom was holding me, and people were staring at me.  I hated sitting there.  I wanted to explain to everyone that my baby was going to die and that’s why I was sitting there.

Finally, I was called back, and I had an exam. The nurse did an ultrasound and I was led to another waiting room. Then I was taken to a room that looked like an operating room, put my feet up in the stirrups and had reeds inserted into my cervix.  OUCH!! It felt like the worst period cramps ever! It was so painful.  They gave me some Tylenol with codeine and told me to come back tomorrow. 

I repeated the same thing the next day, they removed the reeds and put new reeds into my cervix.  This is a very painful thing.  I was cramping all night.  It was awful. 

Why couldn’t they just dilate me medically and get it done and over with?  Why couldn’t I have stronger pain pills? 

It’s Friday morning, the morning of my procedure.  I was laying on my hotel bed and my partner and our moms all laid their hands on my belly.  We said prayers.  We said goodbye.  Goodbye baby boy.  Goodbye Evan. 

When I went back to the clinic there are even more protesters there.  They must know that this is “abortion day”.  They yelled that a girl just died here last week.  I walked into the clinic as fast as I could.

Inside the clinic I found an assembly line.  They staff were friendly and warm, but I felt like we were cattle, being moved from one room to the next, just wearing a thin gown. No privacy, no loved ones.

It was my turn.  I went into the surgery room, was put under anesthesia and I woke up to a nurse calling my name.   “Holly.. wake up.  Holly”  I opened my eyes.  I was in a room with maybe 20 other women, all lined up in beds.  I felt like I was dreaming.  The nurse touched my shoulder and said it was time to go into the other recovery room.  I remember looking at the floor and it seemed far, far away.  She helped me get out of bed, she and another nurse led me into a room where women were eating cookies and drinking orange juice.  I felt so dizzy. At one end of the room was a bed.  They sat me in the bed and brought me ginger ale. I knew something was wrong the minute I threw up the ginger ale that I just drank.  I heaved several times.

The nurses came back in, one on each side of me.  They wanted to bring me back to the recovery room I had just come from.  On the way there, I felt so dizzy, so weak, I fell on the floor.  I peed all overs!! One of the nurses fell with me.  They put me back in a bed, but this time, in the corner of the room and they pulled a curtain.  They thought I wasn’t metabolizing my anesthesia.  The anesthesiologist came over and looked at me, asked me some questions, gave me a shot that was supposed to help me wake up.  I started having horrible rib pain.  I couldn’t stay awake. The nurse would come and say things to my face and I couldn’t wake up.  I could hear her and see her, but I felt like I was dreaming.  They had me lay down and drink ginger ale.  Then the doctor came back to see me and said that there was nothing unusual about my procedure and he said he would check back in with me later.  I felt so alone.  My ribs were killing me.  I had no idea what was happening to me.  The nurse told me that they usually don’t let family members back into this recovery room, but they would allow me to either bring back my Mom or my partner.  I chose my Mom. 

My Mom came back and sat with me, very concerned.  She rubbed my back, got me ginger ale. Stared into my face.  She held my hand. She told the nurse that something was very wrong.  Then the clinic director, Diane, came and sat with us. And while they talked, I kept passing out.  The nurses kept speculating what was wrong with me.

The anesthesiologist came back again and so did the doctor.  They just couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t completely “coming to”.  My Mom suggested that maybe I have a pulmonary embolism.  This seemed to make the doctor think.  He told us that when he was done with his procedures, he would call an ambulance and go with us to Northwestern Hospital.  He explained that if they called an emergency ambulance, they would be required to take us to the nearest hospital, which was a Catholic hospital and he wanted me to go to Northwestern. 

The recovery room cleared out.  All the women were recovered and going home.  Except me.  I sat in that big room, with my Mom. Around 5pm, the ambulance came.  The doctor, the nurses and the EMT were all surrounding me.  The EMT lifted me into the bed.  I screamed in pain.  I could see my Mom’s face, I was screaming in extreme pain.  My ribs hurt so bad.  WHAT WAS HAPPENING TO ME?

The ride to Northwestern seemed to take forever.  The doctor and the anesthesiologist sat in the ambulance with me and my Mom and partner followed.  I felt every little bump, every turn, the pain was excruciating. 

We got to the Emergency Department, and the Emergency doctor started to examine me, but he said that he needed to wait for an emergency OB/GYN to arrive. He pushed on my abdomen, asking me where it hurts.  He didn’t want to give me any pain medicine yet.  He asked me a bunch of questions.  I could barely focus on what he was saying. The emergency ob/gyn doctor arrived and the 2 doctors did a trans-vaginal ultrasound.  They saw fluid behind my uterus and told me I would need a cat scan right away. They put a catheter in me.  My urine came out brown.  My Mom panicked and thought that meant that my organs were shutting down.

After waiting forever for the results of a cat scan, the emergency doctor came back in.  He said “we have to get you into surgery now. You have a lot of internal bleeding.” He said my uterus had been perforated in the abortion and I was bleeding internally.  He said they may have to take my uterus. 

They wheeled me up to the surgery department, which was dark seemed empty.  I heard my Mom on the phone to my Dad, crying about what was happening.  The doctor told me that they had to wait for a special team of ob/gyn doctors and specialized nurses to come in to do the surgery.  I waited and waited, just staring into darkness.  Hearing the fear in my Mom’s voice.  Thinking of my daughter Maia, who was back at the hotel with her other Grandma.   Maia. I kept thinking about Maia.  Then in walks in the anesthesiologist…

The next thing I remember, I was in a bed, looking at big Chicago buildings and it looked like dawn.  There was a man looking at me.  I asked him if I lost my uterus.  He said “yes.” I remember asking “why didn’t they just sew it back up?”  I remember crying. 

My partner had to take the Moms and Maia back to Madison.  My mom came in to hug and kiss me, then they left.  I’ve never felt so alone.

I dose in and out of sleep.  The doctor who did the surgery came in.  He held my hand.  He told me that I am a very lucky person.  He told me that I lost 2 liters of blood.  He told me that I nearly died.   He said that the rib pain was from the internal bleeding. My internal organs were swollen. Pain medicine doesn’t work on that kind of pain.

I was in the hospital for 4 days, including Mother’s Day.  My Mother’s Day was spent looking out at a rainy, cold Chicago day, thinking about my daughter Maia, who was in Madison with her Grandma.  I had no baby boy, no uterus, and I nearly lost my life.  Maia almost lost her Mother. 

Flash forward a month.  The bills start rolling in…surgery room $17,000…. Anesthesiologist $11,000… Facility charges $75,000…………..

AND….. my insurance denied EVERYTHING because they said that these expenses are related to a non-covered service.  My insurance company only covered abortions if the mother’s life was in danger.  Not if the baby’s life was in danger. 

It seemed like I was sobbing 20 hours a day.  I didn’t want to talk to anyone except my Mom.  All I wanted to do was cry and cry and cry more.  And now this….

I started going through the appeals process with my insurance company.  My appeals for coverage kept getting denied.  I made it to the last stage in the appeals process.  I was supposed to appeal,  in person, in front of the appeals board, (since I work at the insurance company it was made up of people I work for.!).  I was filled with anxiety and dread  THEN, I received a call from my insurance case worker.  Someone at my company went up the chain to the top to plead my case.  The person at the top decided that our insurance company would cover all my expenses at 100% AND that a new policy would be implemented for all members that will cover abortions for fatal fetal anomalies!!!!  I call this the Evan Amendment!!

Hallelujah. 

I still wanted a second child, so I found a great way to get through my grief was to bury myself into the world of adoption. 

SO, a year and a half later, my Mom and I flew to Ethiopia to bring home our beautiful daughter Amara Selamawit. 

No family should have to go through what I went through. Hospitals should be performing late-term abortions.  I can’t help but wonder how the outcome would have been different had I been able to have my abortion done at a safe, modern hospital.

No one should have to suffer while trying to do what’s right for their children.. 

The End.