04.24.19 Introducing Adam Ray

***Trigger warning this post is very detailed on TFMR in 2nd Trimester***

My husband, Alex, and I got married in September 2018. We had planned a beautiful mountain wedding outside of Asheville, NC. We did not plan to have hurricane Florence make an appearance on our wedding day but she showed up and half of our guests did not. Even in the hurricane, it was the greatest day of my life. Nothing went as planned but I was just so happy to marry this amazing guy.

We had to cut our "minimoon" short because our cat, Stella, (my first "baby") was not doing well. She had developed a tumor on her forehead that showed up two weeks before I left for North Carolina. The vet said to monitor it and she would recommend a biopsy. We planned on doing it when we returned from our wedding. However, our friend Laura was cat sitting and send pictures showing how quickly the mass was growing. She wasn’t able to keep her left eye open anymore and it was now impacting her swallowing and breathing. So three days after our wedding we had to put our 9 year old cat down. That loss was hard. I view our pets like my children.

Then, my last grandparent, my amazing french grandmother, passed away in early December. After all of these losses, I knew I wanted to celebrate my 30th birthday with my close friends and just enjoy the life we have. I had the most amazing night going to see Christmas lights at the Madison, WI zoo. My cousin, Christine, and her two little boys joined us as well as my closest Madison friends. We snuck in mini champagne bottles and drank them as we walked under the lights. We rode the Carousel - I chose to ride a worm lol- and I hadn’t laughed that hard in so long. We took pictures in the photobooth. It was SO FUN. Afterwards, we went to have dinner and cocktails. It was an amazing night spent with so many people I love.

The next day I felt like garbage... I thought 30 meant I couldn't drink those 5 drinks I had and assumed my hangover was kicking my ass. But my hangover lasted three days so I decided for the heck of it “let's take a pregnancy test.” It was positive. I was pregnant. Alex and I were planning on "trying" this upcoming summer. This was sooner than we had planned. Especially because I had been told by multiple OBGYNs that I would probably experience a lot of difficulty getting pregnant and would probably need to see fertility specialists.

I was scared and in shock. When I told Alex he just smiled- he was so great. He said "this is great news. We wanted a family it's just happening sooner than we planned." He calmed me down and we both were excited because after all of the loss we had experienced this year we knew it was a moment to celebrate life. I . thought it would help my mom (who just lost her mother) to have a new life and another grandchild coming into the world.

We told my parents at Christmas. We captured their exciting reactions on video. We told Alex's parents a couple weeks later and have their exciting reactions on camera. Everyone was so happy and excited and couldn't wait to meet this little baby. Our little “Blob” was sooo loved from the start. I was so excited to tell my friend Jessica because she was also pregnant- unexpectedly but so happy. Alex and I called her when she was driving into Madison for work, she had to pull over she was so happy and crying. It made me cry with excitement. Our babies were going to be best friends. We were 10 weeks apart and we just knew our babies would be best buds.

We made it through the first trimester. I was so sick through it. I work as an orthopedic Trauma nurse so I had to tell everyone at work earlier than I wanted because every smell at work would cause an immediate emesis reaction from me. My boss, my coworkers, everyone was so excited and understanding. We had 7 pregnant nurses on our floor at one time all due within a few months of each other. Our floor was filled with so much joy. We did the screening for chromosome abnormalities and the ultrasound said our baby was perfectly healthy at 12 weeks. The heartbeat was strong and all the measurements where “great.” We used our 2 puppies to make our pregnancy announcement and we made it social media public. More love, support, and excitement from all of our friends and family.

All of the fear I felt initially was gone. We made it into the "safe zone." I was so excited. Alex was being amazing. He wanted to set up a nursery, he was reading all these “dad” books, we paid off the majority of our debts and got ourselves super financially ready. We got life insurance, we were getting ready to be parents! Ah! At 18 weeks pregnant the nursery was set up. I started feeling the baby move. I loved it. I love this baby. He moved the most when I was driving. I loved feeling him bop around in there. My bump was forming. I remember setting up the Ikea dresser in the nursery and Alex looked at me and said, “woah you look pregnant now. Like really pregnant.” I loved it. I got a couple stretch marks. I didn't care. My belly button was starting to look different and I would tell Alex how I hoped I’d get an outtie. I loved when pregnant women’s belly buttons pop and was super excited for that. I just couldn't wait to see the baby’s face. I was having so many dreams about the baby. Almost nightly the baby would visit me. I was so happy waking up after seeing him or her in my sleep. I felt like (s)he was telling me that they are safe and content.

We had our "20 week anatomy ultrasound" at 21 weeks pregnant. This is the only appointment Alex was able to come to with me so I scheduled it when it worked with his work schedule. I pick Alex up from work on April 12 at 9:00am. All of his coworkers knew he was heading to this appointment. Alex and I had agreed that we didn't want to know the gender. We wanted to keep it a surprise. We were so excited driving to that appointment. We got in and saw our child together on the screen. It was amazing. Alex was SO happy seeing his baby for the first time. The baby was moving around and even sucking it's thumb during some of the scan. It was so awesome to see it being a baby. The ultrasound tech didn't say anything suspicious during the scan. She asked if we wanted to know the gender and we both said “no” and turned away while she took pictures. This was our baby. It's so real and in a few months we're going to be parents. I don’t think I have ever been happier in my life than I was in that moment. Holding hands with Alex and seeing the life we created together. Our child.

The ultrasound tech put a towel over my stomach and said that the doctor might want a couple more pictures so "just wait a minute." My friend had told me that everyone at this facility meets with a genetic counselor after their Ultrasound- it was part of their policy for patients. Alex and I were prepared for that. While we were alone in the room we are cracking jokes and I was talking about how I was craving a grilled cheese. He was googling trying to find a place we could go grab lunch before I have to drop him back off at work. Then the doctor and the ultrasound tech come into the room. They said they wanted a couple more pictures of the baby’s heart. His face was hard to read and he didn’t say anything more than that. And just like that, the happiest moment in my life turns into the worst.

We sat in silence while they took more pictures with the ultrasound. What was happening? The baby was fine, we saw him. The doctor lets out a long sigh. And I knew. I KNEW something was wrong. My stomach jumped into my throat. I feel like in that moment my heart stopped, and everything in me changed. My fun, happy, funny spirit left my body and was replaced with anxiety, fear, emptiness. He sends the ultrasound tech out of the room. And says that we are going to wait on a nursing coordinator to come in. She enters the room holding a box of Kleenex. Alex grabs my hand and I wait for them to talk.

"There is something wrong with your baby’s heart. From what we can tell it appears to be an AV canal defect. There is a genetic specialist who will go over what this means with you when you guys are ready to come out here. We'll give give you two a minute." And they leave the room. Alex and I weep. Full whole body weeping. I’ve never seen Alex cry like this. I don’t know if I have ever seen anyone cry like this. I have no idea how long it took us to compose ourselves. We have no clue what this means, we have no idea what the outcome is. We know nothing except that our world is crushed. Our beautiful baby who was just sucking his thumb in front of us has something majorly wrong with his heart. We get ourselves together. I wipe all the gel off my belly and pull my maternity leggings back up over my baby bump and get off the table. Feeling extremely vulnerable and heartbroken, Alex and I walk across the hall to the genetic counselors office.

The genetic counselor says there are three abnormalities with our baby. The first being that the kidneys are very dilated. The second, is that there appears to be an AV canal defect. But they can not diagnose this. We need to have a pediatric cardiologist take another fetal echo to be able to accurately diagnose this. And the third, is that there is only one artery in the umbilical cord instead of two. Any of these abnormalities on their own would be concerning and require a lot of monitoring. But with them altogether, they are a major issue and the baby may not even survive the pregnancy.

She continues to tell us that the heart issue and umbilical cord together typically are found in babies with a chromosome abnormality. About 75% of the time babies with both of these issues have Down’s Syndrome. They say the only way to tell 100% if the baby has a chromosome abnormality or a genetic issue is to do an amniocentesis. We are desperate for answers and say we want to do everything we can. Then they tell us that a pediatric Cardiologist can see us in 30 minutes for a fetal echo at a different hospital and that we can do the amnio right after that appointment. We have to rush to be back at this hospital for that.

We drive go to the Children’s hospital to get our Fetal Echocardiogram. We are surrounded by kids and babies everywhere there. Alex and I just hold hands tears streaming down both of our faces in the waiting room. We are watching all of these parents with their children and we have no clue if we will get to have that life. Will we get to hold this baby? Will we get to put him in a baby carrier and take him to a doctors appointment? Will he run to catch up to me, just to grab my hand and walk with me out of an appointment? We get called back for the Echo.

The tech tells me that I can cry as much as I want and apologizes because she is emotional. I appreciate that empathy. After an hour of having me roll side to side, pushing on my belly, trying to get the baby to get into a better position, the Cardiologist comes in. He tried to get the baby in a better position to get better pictures of his heart. Our baby is crossing his arms in front of his chest. He didn’t like these tests. He just wanted to rest. The Cardiologist says, “Well, I think we’ve pushed him into the furthest corner he can get into. I think that’s the best we’re going to be able to get.” It broke my heart, again. My baby was trying to hide and protect himself. He was supposed to be safe and comfortable in my stomach. I was watching him move and try to lean into me for protection. I’m his mom and I couldn’t protect him from all of this.

The Cardiologist brings us into an office. He tells us it was definitely AV canal defect it may be balanced or unbalanced- the baby was not cooperating enough to allow us to get a better picture. But it appeared as if it was very close to being unbalanced. If unbalanced, the baby would need a series of three open heart surgeries before the age of three and a heart transplant by the age of ten. If the baby has Downs Syndrome, there have been no cases where the baby has survived all three surgeries needed. He tells us children who have this many open heart surgeries at this early in life will have significant developmental delays.

We hear all of this then run back to the first hospital for our amniocentesis. Get onto the table again roll down my maternity leggings and expose my belly. I have never felt more vulnerable than having to have another person mess with my baby as I just lay there. Before they start, they tell me the risks. They say it could cause labor and even death to our baby. I remember thinking "I hoped it would do any of those things". Anything to make me not have to make a decision to end our babies life. I don’t know how I could ever make a choice like that. They inject me with a large needle through my uterus. It causes so much cramping. I am watching what they are doing on the screen as they draw up amniotic fluid while trying to avoid touching my very mobile baby with the needle. Tears streaming down my face as I sob through the procedure.

Then, we meet with the nursing coordinator and genetic specialist again to talk about our options. Our options are to continue the pregnancy or to make a decision to terminate. Continuing the pregnancy would mean frequent monitoring every 2 weeks. Fetal echocardiograms every 4 weeks. If termination is something we are considering we have passed the time frame in Wisconsin which is 20 weeks and 6 days pregnant. Because this is an abortion. We don’t have the choice to be with our doctors, in our hospital. We would have to drive to Chicago where you have up to 22weeks 6d. This is the closest option for terminating for medical reasons. The clinic in Chicago does Dilation and Evacuations (D&E) procedures. I would not be able to hold or see my child’s face. If we extend beyond that time, we would have to fly to Colorado. We could not make a decision with still so many unknowns. We were not ready to make any decision but hearing this sent me into a panic attack unlike any other. I began to hyperventilate and scream sob in this office with these strangers. I crumbled to the floor and began throwing up. It’s like everything in my body was trying to escape. Nothing in me wanted to be here, in this room, in this situation, in this life.

As I am violently throwing up. The nursing coordinator and genetic specialist, two strangers, held my hair, applied cold wash cloths to my neck and forehead, found a trash can. I will never forget this kindness, this compassion. This is a moment so vivid in my memory. These women are watching me, a complete stranger, go through the worst moment of my life and they are by my side. I apologized between breaths and they said ‘there is nothing to apologize for.” Alex is crumbled weeping in the chair in the office. We are both devastated. They tell Alex he can get the car and pull it around back (since I am currently unable to stand but I need to get out of this hospital). I'm so thankful that one of us was able to pull it together enough to get out of that room. He told me he’d be right back and left to go get the car. I didn’t know he had to stop halfway to run into a public bathroom stall to allow his sobs to escape. In that bathroom, another stranger checked on him. He asked if Alex was ok. A stranger in the stall next to Alex. He could have kept quiet and pretended not to hear but instead checked in. So kind. Alex leaves the bathroom gets the car and pulls it to the back of the hospital where I am standing being physically held up by the nursing coordinator. Emesis bag in hand. She helps me into the car. And we drive home.

We take the weekend to think about our options and what we heard. We felt like we didn’t get to ask any questions since we were in shock so we create a list of questions. So we took that time to talk about everything we never wanted to talk about. We talked about carrying out this pregnancy and if this baby makes it to term what it would mean for the baby and for us to have this many heart surgeries. Would our relationship survive that stress? The chances that our baby would survive one let alone three is not high. Would we be able to have more children after this? Would those children be able to have a good life when their parents are so invested in another child’s health? Can we financially manage this? Alex is a pharmacist and I am a nurse. If anyone could do this, we could. We would figure out a way. One of us would be in the hospital with the baby at all times. We have retired parents, maybe they can help us. We have a ton of friends and people who love us and who would want to help in whatever way they can. There is a chance our baby won’t survive in the womb. Am I able to cope with that? Can I continue carrying this baby every day knowing our baby may die inside me? Possibly putting myself, my uterus and our future family at risk? Our baby would only know pain for most of it’s life. It would never receive proper oxygenation until all heart surgeries are completed, most likely until it has a heart transplant. It would never get to play like a child. It may never even be able to think and develop like a “normal” child. It would be on a lot of medications it's entire life. It would need a heart transplant before the age of 10. But still. It’s our baby. We love this baby so much already, we want him here with us. We choose to not let go of the hope. It’s a sliver of chance but we need more answers. Until then, this is my baby and I am his mother and I will protect him.

On Monday, we had previously made an appointment with my midwife. She was supposed to go over the ultrasound results and tell us how everything was normal. Instead, Alex comes with me to the appointment. I am greeted by the medical assistant. I am crying- I can’t even speak as she tries to get my vital signs. She is crying with me I realize. She gives me a gentle hug and says my midwife will be in the room shortly. Alex and I are sitting next to each other numb and with blurry vision from our tears. She enters the room and I breakdown. She holds me, and apologizes. She tells me this is rare and that this has shaken her office. Everyone is thinking about Alex and me. Everyone is so sad for us. We talk about what carrying out the pregnancy would mean for me physically and medically. What happens if the baby dies inside of me. She explains the risks- some of them are risks I would be happy to take and others terrified me (sepsis, unfixable uterus issues, death to me-with my history of clotting I am already at some pretty serious risks). We also talked about what it would mean to terminate. How does a D&E procedure affect me. The risks of serious complications to me are much lower. She doesn’t suggest what we should do. She just says whatever we decide she is behind us. She supports Alex and me. She says, "this isn’t a choice. this isn't something parents would choose." We asked her if she could tell us the gender of our baby because we wanted to know. I want to know as much as possible to feel as close to our baby as I could. She leaves the room and comes back 5 minutes later. She says they didn’t get clear enough imaging so we would have to wait until our amnio results. I cried more. I wish I hadn’t wanted to keep it a secret. I wish we had gotten that moment of finding out while looking at the ultrasound to see the gender. So we could have had that happy moment.

Tuesday, we are supposed to get the results of our amnio. We are waiting all day long to find out if there are any chromosomal abnormalities or if there is anything wrong genetically. We get the call. No chromosome abnormalities (which means no Down’s Syndrome) and no genetic issues. Which means Alex and I don’t carry genes that could cause this to happen. They said it is just a “typo” in our child’s DNA. A 0.0025% chance of this happening to us. It happened within 5-18 days from conception." This is good for our future children but we essentially did the opposite of winning the lottery. We got hit with the worst luck genetically for our baby. They said our baby has an X and Y chromosome. Our baby is a boy. I smile and cry. I KNEW IT. I had said it from the beginning I felt he was a boy.

Wednesday, we speak with our pediatric cardiologist. We had a long list of questions for him and wanted to make sure we gathered as much information as we could. Alex has a lot of access to different medical journals and research studies. He has been researching AV canal defects and CHD since Friday. I am so proud of how hard he was trying to learn as much as possible to see what our life would be like if our son, now named Adam, was able to make it to birth. We heard more information we didn’t remember from being in shock. We found out there were other cardiac abnormalities as well. We ask if our baby COULD live a normal life- slim chances. The prognosis was very poor. But our Cardiologist still seemed strangely hopeful. So that made us feel even more confused. It's like his diagnosis and prognosis didn't matter because they are some of the best in Wisconsin- they can “fix it”. He said he would see us tomorrow for another fetal echocardiogram. Hopefully, to gather clearer pictures this time around. We (Alex especially) still felt hopeful. I felt like I KNEW something was going on inside me- something really wrong.

Thursday, we got back to Meriter. This is where we started this journey on Friday. We are in the same waiting room but this time there is no joy or excitement as we wait. I feel like I am walking through concrete. Wearing the baggiest sweatshirt I own in order to hide my stomach. I don’t want anyone to ask me about my baby. I don’t need any strangers being “excited” for me. In the waiting room, I stare at all of the other pregnant women waiting for their ultrasounds. Smiling, scrolling social media, some with their partners, some alone- and I just think about how naive they are. I want to scream “DON’T BE TOO EXCITED. YOUR WORLD COULD BE ABOUT TO SHATTER!” Alex and I get called back. Again, on a table roll down my maternity leggings and expose my belly. I do more rolling, turning, sitting up, trying to get Adam in a good position. This time there are no tears. I am out of them. I think I have used them all. I have felt, for the last 6 days, that a boa constrictor has been wrapping around my head squeezing it. This is the constant headache I have been feeling. I am numb. After another 1.5 hour scan we meet with the Cardiologist. He says “with these better pictures, we found more cardiac abnormalities. The aorta is in the wrong place as well as other vessels and veins.” Adam’s heart is all messed up. His heart rate was also low. It was not perfusing the Adam’s brain in the way that it needed to allow for healthy brain development. The cardiologist still seemed like Adam had a chance.

Every day, after each one of these appointments we felt hopeful that maybe we could handle this. Then times we felt sure that termination was the most compassionate and best decision for our son. We went back and forth. We felt that continuing the pregnancy was selfish. Should we just continue because we didn’t want to have to make a decision? Is that fair to our son? We prayed every single day that we would go in and our baby wouldn’t have a heartbeat. I sobbed in the bath every night to God, asking him to take our baby so we don’t have to make this decision. I was desperate. I could not make the choice to have a baby who would only know horrible pain or to end my baby’s life. This was an impossible situation to be in. Alex and I had no idea what to do. We decided to go ahead and make an appointment to go to Chicago on Monday so we could have it in the books just in case. Due to it being a three day procedure this was our last chance if we choose to terminate (It put us at terminating at 22 weeks 5 days. It’s illegal after 22weeks 6 days) - unless we wanted to fly out to Colorado. It would be a gigantic expense for us to do that. We are already having significant medical bills for all of the tests we have done for Adam. We found out there is no insurance coverage for terminating. This would be a complete out of pocket cost if that was the decision we made.

On Friday, one week from our 21 week ultrasound, We had one more appointment with a Maternal Fetal medicine doctor (MFM) on Friday. We hoped for SOMETHING to guide us in any direction one way or the other. Alex and I felt so lost. We walk into the same waiting room at Meriter. More pregnant women around us. We did not expect to really get anything out of this meeting. We didn’t know what the MFM doctor did but we had met with the cardiologist so that was the important part- we thought. We found out that the MFM doctor deals with the baby and mother DURING the pregnancy. She handles everything before the baby is even born and given to the Pediatric Cardiac Surgeons. She told us a piece of information we had never even heard. Our baby was in the 2nd percent on the growth chart. She said this is not a number that our baby will ever bounce back from.

This means that the placenta is not delivering proper nutrients to Adam due to the single artery umbilical cord as well as poor perfusion of his heart. He is not growing. She tells us that the chance of our baby surviving this pregnancy is very unlikely. If Adam does make it to term and is born, he will be too small to have the first heart surgery he will need. He will need to get bigger and gain weight before being able to undergo open heart surgery. But due to his congenital heart defects (CHD) he will not be able to get bigger without having a heart that functions properly. It will be impossible for him to gain weight and survive long enough to get to the point of having his first surgery. There was no way that Adam stood a chance. He was going to die no matter what, it all just depends on when. There wasn’t an option to “choose” life for our son. There now wasn’t a “choice” other than when to allow our son to die. Alex and I left that appointment like two sociopaths. We felt immense relief, like a weight had been lifted off our shoulders. It was not our decision. This isn’t a choice. Our baby will die. Do we want to allow him to suffer and experience a very short painful life outside of my womb.

We spent that weekend talking to Adam. I told him how loved he was. I felt him dance inside me. I tried to spend as much time as possible honoring him. And hoping he will feel all of our love. I told him how we can’t wait to see him one day. He will go to a great place where my grandma and sweet kitty will be there with him and that he won’t be alone. Wherever he goes…whatever the afterlife is- he is not alone.

We drove to Chicago on Monday. We had spent two days trying to find a hotel in downtown Chicago. We needed to be close to the clinic incase anything was to go wrong. Hotels in Chicago are very expensive and parking is separate. Another stress to add to this. We had no idea what to expect. Alex and I entered the clinic and sat in the waiting room. We were called into a cubicle where we had to pay in full (thousands of dollars uncovered by insurance) for the 3 day procedure. We went back into the waiting room. I was then called back, unsure what was going to be happening. I asked if my husband could come with me. They said no. I walked into a small office room. The medical assistant took my vital signs. I cried telling them I didn’t want this. I wanted my baby to be healthy and alive. He was loved. She gave a sad smile then said the nurse practitioner would be in shortly and that I had to have an ultrasound to confirm how far along I was. The nurse practitioner entered the room. She asked me to get on the table, again roll my maternity leggings down. I asked if she was able to get pictures for me and she said no. I so wish I had better 3d ultrasound pictures and will regret not getting those done before coming to Chicago. She wasn’t pleasant. She asked how far along I was and I answered. She took her gloves off and said I’ll need to have my blood work done. She left the room with me still on the table, with ultrasound gel on my stomach. I had to try to find something to wipe it off with. There were rough paper towels. I then walk across the hall where it was called the “lab.” They get my blood and urine sample. They tell me to go back to the waiting room. I was so happy to be by Alex again.

I then get called back for the first part of the “procedure,” the dilation. I ask if Alex can come with me to hold my hand. He cannot. They said he won’t be allowed to come back for anything behind this door. They said it in a way as if they were annoyed I kept asking. I never asked again. I was brought into a room labeled “1”. I was given a locker with key and they told me to get completely undressed, put a hospital gown on, and paper booties. I kept my apple watch on so I could let Alex know what was happening. He was so worried about me. I then was led into another room labeled “2” where there were other women in gowns waiting. There was no clock. And I waited. It didn’t seem like a long time but I have no idea.

I am led into a procedure room, “3”. But not like the ones I have seen at hospitals I have worked at. This was cold. The walls were a nude color. The swinging doors were steel. The table was just metal. This reminded me of my vets “procedure room.” The room just months before I watched them put my cat to sleep. My first baby. And here I was about to lose my first child in what felt like a vet operating room. I was instructed to get on the table. Slide my bottom all the way to the end. My legs in stirrups. The moment I got on the table I began to sob. This cannot be my life. Why did this happen to us?

The same NP comes into the room. She insert tools to have a better view of my cervix. She begins to insert Laminaria, the dilation medication. I started apologizing to Adam out loud. I told him how much I loved him. I was weeping on this cold metal table with a bright light and an apathetic nurse practitioner shoving dilators into my cervix. It was incredibly painful. There was a point I lifted my hips because it hurt. The NP said very sternly, “You need to keep your hips down while I do this! Do you need a minute to calm down?” Calm down? I was losing my son. My son was going to die and you want me to calm down? I want him here and healthy. Calm down. They finish. The NP says she was able to put 4 dilators in today but expect about 14-16 tomorrow. She removes her gloves and just walks out. The medical assistant then assists me off the table. We walk through those slinging metal doors and she sits me at a small table in the corner.

She hands me 2 small envelopes with tablets inside and says, “this is for pain, and this one is an antibiotic.” I asked what the pain medication was and she said it was Ibuprofen. Due to my history of blood clots, I was already giving myself injections everyday with a blood thinner. I am not supposed to take Ibuprofen. I went over that with them when they asked about my history. I told her “I can’t take Ibuprofen, its unsafe while on blood thinners. I can only take Tylenol.” She said, “ok take that then. And here’s a prescription for Tramadol if you need it.” I also asked what the antibiotic was. She didn’t know the name and had to look at the container. It was Flagyl. When taking Flagyl it is EXTREMELY important not to drink alcohol- she never said anything about that. I know this because I am a nurse (and Alex is a pharmacist). But how many women come in here, are in shock, and take what “medical professionals” give them without knowing what it is? This angered me. As a healthcare professional and someone who gives medications to her patients, I always read out what I am giving to them and what it's for. If I didn’t ask what medications I was getting, I would have had no clue. This was not healthcare. They told me to come back at 9am the next morning to have more dilators inserted.

Alex and I walk to the car. The gauze that is shoved inside of me makes it very uncomfortable to walk. I am cramping from the dilators. I am in physical pain but nothing compares to the emotional pain and trauma I had just experienced. I am unable to speak to the hotel clerk so I let Alex check in while I stand back. We get up to our hotel room. We have a balcony. I stand out there and watch all of the people crossing the street. Living their lives. The world is still moving. So many people are in this city. No one has any clue what I have just gone through and what I will be going through the next two days. I can see the Walgreens from my balcony and Alex decides to go for a walk to go pick up my prescription for the Tramadol incase I need it. My sweet husband also had to pick me up pads because I should expect some bleeding. I remember standing on the balcony watching Alex walk across the street and down the sidewalk to the pharmacy. Passing probably a hundred people on his way. Not one of them has any clue they just past a man who has a dying son.

The hotel room wouldn’t allow our Amazon Firestick to work so we had very little to distract ourselves with. We couldn’t really find anything on TV that we wanted to watch. All of the commercials seemed to be about diapers, formula, or pregnant people. Happy babies, happy parents, happy families. I wanted Sage and Xavi, our dogs, with us. I wanted to feel their weight laying on my chest to calm me down. I was having horrible cramping and terrified of the all white hotel bedding. I was scared every time I stood up to use the bathroom. I didn't know what I would find or what would happen. That night I took a Xanax and went to sleep.

We woke up the next morning and had breakfast. I took a pain pill knowing I was going to have 4x the amount of dilators put in today. We go to the clinic. I get called back fairly quickly. This time it was different. They said there were too many patients in today so they would have to use the clinic room. I was so grateful. I wasn’t going back on that hard metal table into the room that reminded me of a vet clinic. It was like a normal OB’s office. I was asked to take my clothes off and place the drape over my lap. While my legs were in the stirrups the new nurse practitioner, Angel, asked about my pineapple tattoo on my ankle. Her name said it all. She was so kind and compassionate. She asked me about my Adam. She asked his name. She asked his diagnosis. She apologized and said this is horrible. I was taking the physical pain a million times better as the dilators were being inserted because this NP KNEW I wanted my child. She KNEW this was a nightmare.

She inserted 15 dilators and packed me full of gauze. These dilators are made of dehydrated seaweed. They start about the size of a matchstick and with natural moisture they swell to the size of a drinking straw. Imagine holding 15 matchsticks all tight together. Then imagine 15 drinking straws.That is what was happening to my cervix in one night.

I was barely able to walk out of the clinic. I was experiencing intense cramping and back pain. Worse than any period cramps I had ever felt. We got back to the hotel room and I immediately crawl into bed. I am in such pain. Alex went to Wholefoods to get lunch. He made me a salad from the salad bar. I don’t even remember what we did in the hotel with all those hours we were there. I'm sure it was nothing. We were in a total zombie state. Numb. Crying.

That night around 9pm I started experiencing much more intense cramping. Around 9:30p I decided to tell Alex about them. They were so strong and lasted a while then would stop and I could breathe again. I realized I was having contractions. Alex and I just stared at each other. What the hell do we do? I started timing them. They were about 2-3 minutes apart lasting 1-2 minutes each time. This doesn’t seem right. All I can think about is that they told me at the clinic there are tons of hospitals in the area. But lots won’t accept you if you are in the process of a 2nd trimester abortion. They will refuse to treat you. I remembered Northwestern Hospital was a safe one. Alex began googling it to see where it was located and how far away we are from it. I remember Alex pacing the room, wanting to help but not knowing how. I was trying to remain calm, cool, and collected so I wouldn’t freak him out. I was just timing my contractions. Inside my head, I was panicking.

Its about 10:30pm and this had been going on for an hour. I felt like I needed to have a bowel movement. I knew this could mean real labor. I got really scared. I decided to call my midwife in Madison. She said it definitely sounded like I was having contractions and in the early stages of laboring. She said to try to relax and lay down and try to see if they will stop on their own. She said I could call her at any point throughout the night if I was scared. We got off the phone.

I had a thought for a minute… maybe it would be better to have the baby in the hotel. I could see him. I could hold him. I could have a moment with him. But then reality came back and I remembered he would be in so much pain. He would suffocate and die in front of me. No one would be around me to help me if I had a complication. This is not ok. I need to lay down, put a pillow between my knees and try to rest. I took another Xanax. At 1am, the contractions stopped. I was able to get some sleep.

On April 24, 2019, I woke up and took a shower. In the shower I talked to Adam. I told him how much I loved him. How I will be ready to join him whenever my time comes. He has changed me. He has made me into a mother and I am so grateful for him. I cry in the shower holding my belly. I feel him move. I like to think that was his response to me. His “I’m going to be ok.” My heart broke again (how is that even possible) in that hotel shower. This was it. Today, was the day I would become a mother to a dead child. Everything that was important before doesn’t matter.

We went straight to the clinic. I immediately get called back. I remember looking at Alex as I was walking away. That’s the last time he’ll see me carrying Adam. I get brought into room #1 again. All clothes off. All jewelry too. I couldn’t keep my apple watch on this time to communicate with Alex. I didn’t want to put my wedding ring in the locker so I asked if I could give it to Alex. They let me. I went into the waiting room in my gown, handed him my ring and smiled at him. As soon as I turned around the tears started. They then led me to room #2.

There were 6 other women waiting. I sat there with them. All of us in gowns, with no undergarments. The most vulnerable feeling in the world. All of us terminating our pregnancies. Some at different stages, some for different reasons, but all of us were in this room making the same choice. All of us were alone. None of us had our partners. We had no clue what time it was. I remember the other girls asking is anyone knew what time it was. The woman next to me said well it has to be about 9am because this show is ending. We watched an episode of “Fresh Prince of Belair,” “That 70s Show,” and “Family Feud.” This entire time all I can think about is how Alex is waiting for me. It’s been 1.5 hours (three shows) and he has no idea I haven’t even started the procedure. I just want to tell him I’m ok. Then they call my name.

I start walking and I know where we are going. We are going to the procedure room. The room that makes me feel like an animal. The nurse asks me to sit on the metal table. I do. She is handing me some liquid and says, “Take this for your stomach.” I ask her what it is. She says it’s something to calm my stomach down. I then said that I wanted to know the name of the medication that they are giving me. She doesn’t know. She looks at the bottle, “Ranitidine?” Ok. I can take that, that might help with nausea for me even though I already took Zofran before coming in. I swallow the liquid Zantac. And she puts a tourniquet on my arm. I tell her my hand veins are better for IVs. She puts an IV in. She begins running Lactated Ringer’s. She asks me to scoot to the bottom of the table and put my legs in the stirrups. The nurse practitioner enters. Damn it. It was the first one, the rude one. She says this is only going to be a few minutes. And then I'm asleep.

“Do you want footprints?” I hear. I thought I was dreaming, I can’t see anything. I try to “yes” loudly but I am not sure if it even came out. Then I’m asleep again. I come back to and I hear people talking and the sound of moving curtains. I’m getting wheeled on a stretcher to a different area. I ask them, “Please tell my husband that I'm ok. Let him know I am out. Please.” I don’t hear anyone respond. Then I am parked. I can see the top of another stretcher next to me where another woman is on it. A thin curtain between the two of us. I try to sit up. Someone says, “take it easy, not yet.” I turn to her and say, “Can you please tell my husband that I'm ok. He is the bearded man. He’s very worried.” She says, “well take care of everything” but goes nowhere and tells no one. I am almost fully awake now and I am getting more angry. “Can someone please go tell my husband that I am ok?!?” I say with much more force. I said it with all of the energy I had waking up from anesthesia. “Yes, we'll do that.” I hear.

I am sleepy but fully awake. They tell me they are going to move me to the recovery room. I step off the stretcher. Oh God. I feel everything. They first get me to a bathroom. Someone helps me change my pad. I’m bleeding a lot. They walk me to recovery. I meet a new nurse who takes my blood pressure- it was 86/54, thats low. They give me a normal saline bolus. They have me in a recliner. Offer me graham crackers and saltines. They give me water. The new nurse is nice. She tells me about her pitbull. I try to be as nice as I can and ask her is she can run out to the front to tell Alex I am ok. She made a hesitant face but said ok. I said, “His name is Alex and he will be the bearded man who is probably very worried.” She comes back a few minutes later and said, “As soon as I said Alex he jumped up. He was very worried about you. I told him it won’t be much longer.” I sat for 30 more minutes. I looked up, my bolus was empty. I asked if I could go be with Alex now. She said just a few minutes. 20 minutes later I said I was going to pull out my IV if I have to stay much longer. I told her I could wait in the waiting room with my husband for however long they need but I want to be with him. The nurse comes over and removes my IV. She checks my bleeding before I stand. She walks with me to the bathroom. I change my pads again and put on mesh panties. I am able to get dressed. And she takes another blood pressure. It's fine. As I am leaving she gives me a pill in an envelope. She tells me that If I soak more than 2 pads per hour to take this pill. It helps with stopping bleeding.

Right before she lets me leave she hands me another envelope with my name on the front. I open it and am immediately brought to tears. Adam’s footprints. I didn’t know that was real- i thought it was a dream. I am so happy to have those tiny thumb-size footprints to prove he was real. My son did exist. I held those footprints the entire drive home.

I will spend the rest of my life missing Adam. I will forever grieve the death of my child but also the fact that I had to run to a different state to terminate my pregnancy- Away from our dogs, our friends, our family, our home, our safe place. I was not allowed to have my husband with me for any of the procedures with dilation. Which were traumatic and painful and emotional. He was not allowed to hold my hand. He was not allowed to be with me in the pre-op waiting room before I had to have the procedure to remove my child from my body. He was not told when I went under anesthesia. He sat alone in a waiting room for over 6 hours waiting while his wife was under anesthesia to have their baby taken from her. He was not able to be with me in recovery. I sat alone begging to be able to just go sit with my husband. I was alone going through the worst day of my life and my husband was alone going through the worst day of his life.

We never really had an opinion on 2nd trimester abortions. I always have always been “pro choice” but never thought I would be in a place where I would get an abortion. Especially, not after making a baby with my amazing husband. But now, Alex and I are disgusted by the process and arbitrary timelines that rushed us to make a decision. We had to rush from doctors appointment to appointment and get information overload and try to process it all within 10 days. The most important decision of our life had a timeline. Alex and I are confident in our choice. We know we made the right choice for our son. We would make the same choice again for him.

I am disgusted with how we had to make that choice. I am horrified that we, as humans, are choosing to vote for laws that make other parents feel helpless. Sending them away from all comfort. Instilling shame and guilt in them. When in fact, 90% of parents who are presented with the same CHD (just the AV canal defect not even all the other complications) choose to terminate. 90 percent! You can’t even find out about CHD until the 20 week scan. Thats 5 months pregnant. We have friends who have had miscarriages around the 6-10 week marks. They are given packets and packets of support information. They are brought into the hospital and have chaplains, relaxation therapists, nurses, their doctors taking care of them. They are asked if they want their baby’s remains. They are given a death certificate. Their babies lives are acknowledged.

I was nearly 6 months pregnant. Herded like cattle, given footprints and a kick out of the door. Alex did not receive any bereavement time. I did not receive maternity leave. There is no physical evidence that our son, Adam, existed. I have footprints, pregnancy tests, and a few (terrible) ultrasound pictures. We weren’t able to have a funeral. We aren’t able to bury our son. We have no remains. There is something wrong here. Shouldn’t I receive the same (health) care as any other mother losing her child? Something to think about when you are voting. Pro-choice doesn't mean “pro-abortion” it just means allowing people to have the choice.

I have a friend who I have met since all of this who had to terminate for medical reasons almost 4 years ago. She was 22 weeks pregnant. The laws in Wisconsin were that abortions were legal up to 27 weeks. She was brought into the hospital, able to deliver her baby. She had a local support group volunteer see her at the hospital. She was given a chance to hold her daughter. Take pictures with her daughter. She was able to cremate her daughter. All of these things should be available for parents who want them.

That is healthcare. THAT is what we should be providing to parents who are facing the most impossible choices of their lives. THAT is being compassionate to all human beings.

We chose to take on an entire life of pain and suffering to prevent Adam from feeling one moment of it.