the heart of a mama who had to say goodbye

This is a post I've been trying to write for two years. It's one I thought I would carry forever because I never could find the words to say what was on my heart. It's also one I neglected writing out of fear...fear of being judged and condemned for a decision I made. I finally have the courage to tell my story.

A little over two years ago, I was expecting our second child. I was excited, as most mothers are, to welcome a new child into our world. Our family was a place where another child would have been deeply loved. Unfortunately, we didn't get that opportunity.

Not long after finding out I was expecting, I was at a check-up with my pulmonologist for asthma. She told me that she suspected I had a heart condition, and that if diagnosed, it would be fatal to both me and the baby. I was crushed but hopeful for goood results. We made the appointment with the cardiologist, and he did an echocardiogram. As I was leaving the exam room, he stopped me, took me aside, and told me that the tests confirmed my worst fear. The tears came right away as I asked, "How bad is it?" He said it was very severe. I knew what was coming. No one had to tell me. My worst fear had just gotten confirmed. We went back to his office later, and as this precious doctor fought back his own tears, he told me that he would recommend terminating my pregnancy. My heart wasn't strong enough to withstand a pregnancy, and the baby and I would both die. He said that he'd never told anyone that before. I could tell it was hard for him, but the weight it put on me was unbearable.

People say they'll never do things. I've read so many things this week that said "I could never do that..." As a pro-life Christian, I never thought I'd find myself walking into an abortion clinic in New Orleans, but with a sickening feeling in my stomach, that's exactly what I did. My obstetrician had made me an appointment there, and my aunt drove me and my mom. It was late December...a few days before New Year's Eve. As I walked towards the building, I just kept thinking one silent but strong prayer, "God, please make a different way." Most of you reading this have never been in an abortion clinic, but I have, and the memory lives with me. I didn't really know what to expect, but I remember walking into the building was like walking into a nightmare. It was in an old house with bars on the doors and a security guard outside. Women were everywhere. There must have been 100 of them; there were multiple waiting rooms. In the back, they took my blood and did an ultrasound. The doctor explained the procedure to me. I asked her how long I would need to recover, and then I asked her the only thing I really wanted to know..."Is there any other way? My baby doesn't deserve to die this way." I just kept looking for hope, but she said no. We had to make an appointment to come back later in the week for the procedure.

The next day, I was feeling very short of breath and ended up in the emergency room in Slidell. They admitted me to the Intensive Care Unit and transferred me the next day to the Cardiac Intensive Care Unit at Ochsner Main Campus in New Orleans. There they brought in a team of doctors including cardiologists and high-risk obstetricians. I remember telling the OB, "Please don't make me go back to that place," and she said that someone in my condition should not be there without proper medical care. If I wasn't in a hospital bed, I would have hugged her. After many tests and monitoring, that team of doctors decided that they agreed with my original cardiologist's recommendation. My doctor told me that it was the hardest thing he'd ever had to tell a patient, but that if I was his daughter, he'd recommend the same thing.

The next morning, they started me on medication which basically caused my body to begin the labor process. They were going to do the procedure the following day. I was heartbroken and in pain. Even more than that, I knew what was coming, and I was scared. That evening my sweet daddy was playing music on his phone, and I asked him to find and play "I Know Who Holds Tomorrow." Those words had never meant more to me than they did on that night.

Many things about tomorrow

I don't seem to understand

But I know who holds tomorrow

and I know who holds my hand

About an hour later at 9:00 that night, my baby left my body - perfectly whole - with arms and hands, legs and feet. He was around 13-14 weeks gestation. Some people say that a baby isn't whole at that point, but my mama and I witnessed it ourselves. Sure, his organs weren't developed, and he couldn't survive, but his body was already formed at that early stage in my pregnancy. Doctors from every department came running, and several stayed with me until the OB could get there. I will never forget sitting in the bathroom, shaking and scared to death, with my supportive mama on one side, and a precious nurse from pediatrics on the other side, each holding my hand. When the OB arrived, they immediately took me to the operating room to do a D&C. A cardiologist was in the OR to monitor me. The very next day, I was able to be started on medication that would help my heart, and I'm still being treated for my heart conditions today.

Some people could argue and tell me that God would never have wanted me to end my baby's life, but I believe that God heard and answered my prayer. He sent me to a hospital with compassionate people who treated me with kindness and sympathy. He provided me the best care possible in an incredibly hard and life-threatening situation. He gave me a family who stood by me while I made a decision that no mother should ever have to make. I believe God was with me in that abortion clinic, and He was with me in the hospital. I know that He's still with me today, and despite my choice, He understands and loves me still. I know that God can take all of my sadness and pain and use it for His glory.

I think a lot of people thought I just had a miscarriage, and I was okay with that because I was scared of what people would think about me. The reality is that I made a very personal decision to let my baby go in order to save my life. It takes a lot of strength and courage to make the difficult choice to say goodbye to your child and then face a world that condemns you for it. I have grieved and suffered without talking about it for fear of judgment from others. If love alone could have saved my baby, I'd have two little boys here today. People are lighting up buildings in celebration of abortion while my heart just aches over my own.

I loved him. My family would have loved him. He would have had an amazing big brother. I think all the time how different our lives would be if things had went my way, but there will come a day when I will meet him in Heaven. That's the hope I'm clinging to.

The song and lyrics below are by Shelly E. Johnson. She wrote this song after the loss of her own baby, and these words are beautiful.

I never got to see your face

or had a chance to choose your name

I never got to kiss your cheek

or watch what you'd grow up to be.

I never got to hear your cry

or soothe you with a lullaby

before I got to say hello

I had to let you go.

Hallelujah, to the one who gives

Hallelujah, to the one who takes away

Hallelujah! I am sure of this.

I'll hold you in Heaven someday.

Oh, what a sweet day that will be!

When I meet you on the golden streets

I'll run to you with open arms

and tell you just how loved you are

Then you will take me by the hand

and lead us through the Promised Land

and there we'll bow before the throne

and praise the God from whom all blessings flow.