This column originally appeared on Finding (Un)Common Ground.
“You should terminate this one,” the doctor said. I was 37 years old, ten weeks pregnant, and suddenly faced with an unexpected life or death decision. An ultrasound revealed the fetus I was carrying had implanted at the top of my uterus. If it grew up towards my stomach, it threatened to burst a large artery, very likely killing me and the baby it promised to become. My doctor continued, “You already have two healthy children who need you. This is for your safety.”
Safe or not, I didn’t want an abortion. I wanted this baby. Continue reading