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Bronwyn Fryer's avatar

Mary, I have posted this elsewhere, but I went through hell in 1988 and it is nothing like the hell she is going througjh. This is the story of my abortion.

It’s 1988, and I’m living just south of San Francisco when I find myself pregnant. My then-husband and I receive the news happily. Other than bouts of morning sickness, everything goes swimmingly through the first trimester. If feel my baby move at around 4 months or so. I go for an amniocentesis test at the recommended 17 weeks.

It takes about 2 weeks to get the results, and they are both devastating and unquestionable.

My baby girl has a severe genetic defect called Trisomy 13. Also called Patau syndrome, Trisomy 13 is a chromosomal condition that causes severe intellectual disability heart defects, brain or spinal cord abnormalities, very small or poorly developed eyes, additional fingers and toes, cleft lip, and weak muscles. Most infants with Trisomy 13 die within their first days or weeks of life, if they even make it that far.

As much as I want her, there is no question of carrying this baby to term. Not only because caring for this ill-fated child would be impossible under our circumstances, but because I was frightened by what happened to my own mother.

She became pregnant with her 3rd child when I was 2, and he died in utero at 8 months. Back in the 1950s, the only option available was for her to deliver the baby "naturally." So she carried him, knowing he was dead, until he was born at 9 months. I don't know what this experience might have done to her physically -- there was not real gynecological care back then, and she might have had sepsis too -- but it drove her into terrible postpartum depression from which she never recovered. By the time I was 3 years old she’d devolved into paranoid schizophrenia. When I was 12, she was institutionalized. She received 35 shock treatments that did nothing to restore her mental health, and died when I was 17.

I never really had a mother.

I felt that I too could easily be driven into unrecoverable depression myself if my situation continued. So I finally received my abortion at 22 weeks after a difficult search for a provider. My milk came in afterwards. I cried for weeks.

The moral of the story is this: forcing a woman to have even a <wanted> but seriously deformed baby can be devastating. Just imagine what it’s like for desperate women in red states right now.

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Roslyn Reid's avatar

This explains a lot--Judge Devine thinks it's OK for parents to watch their doomed baby die because he did? Judges are to follow the law, not their personal experiences. We need to hold them to this.

#CoxIsTheNewRoe

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