Abort Your Child and Live: Why I Chose to Take the Risk

In a very somber whispery voice the doctor informed me of the circumstances I was facing. "We must take you to surgery immediately or you have no chance of survival." As the wheels in my mind began to turn I realized the gravity of what this leading specialist was saying.

In order to live myself I needed an abortion. I was only 18 weeks along in my pregnancy and there was no way my baby would survive being delivered this early. My husband was called in and given the same sobering information. As I listened to the doctor repeat his words to my husband the truth of my situation began to sink in. I was facing the decision that I had considered only briefly - no one really ever had to make this choice, did they?

As the doctor and my husband spoke in hushed tones I began shaking my head, "No." The doctor's response was one of shock and agitation. He pled with me. He then pled with my husband in front of me. When I continued to shake my head he very quietly asked my husband to go with him into the hallway. He there explained that there was less than a 5% chance that I would survive what was taking place in my body - if this was my 4th pregnancy. This was in actuality my 9th! All 8 previous births had been c-sections.

After each delivery the doctors would agree that everything looked remarkably ok. The problem with this particular pregnancy was not due to the fact that I had already delivered 8 children via c-section, but it was due to the fact that for some reason I had developed placenta previa.

This condition is dangerous to any expectant mother. The risk of the placenta detaching and risking both the life of the mother and the baby is great. In some cases this condition is further complicated by what is called placenta acreta. This is where not only is the placenta all located in the lower region of the uterus, but it is growing through the uterine wall which increases the danger and the risk of rupture. The tests the doctor had just completed had confirmed both of these conditions.

When you take these risks and add the fact that I had a history with 8 C-sections and the placenta was growing through the uterine wall, attaching itself to other organs - it was no longer a risk. It was inevitable that my uterus was going to rupture, and the chance of either the baby or my surviving this was less than 5%.

You can only imagine what was going through this poor doctor's mind as he tried to convince me that I had no choice! He spends his life saving lives and he could not understand how a woman could refuse his life saving surgery. But there was something very large looming in my mind. This was not a growth in my body threatening my life. This was my baby.

Not very many weeks previous to this day I had been contemplating the fact that I indeed did not feel well. As I prayed for my unborn child and asked the Lord for protection the thought had crossed my mind that I would indeed face this very decision. My silent prayer had become audible as I spoke to the Lord. I raised the question of my other 8 children. The Holy Spirit answered in his still small voice inside my heart. "I love those 8 children more than you do!

If I choose to allow you to lose your life at this time, it is what is best for them." I can still feel the lump in my throat as I swallowed and acknowledged that indeed my Heavenly Father not only loved my family more than I did, He alone had the power to take care of them; even if I was no longer here. So, as my husband and the doctor discussed my options I silently prayed for the strength to stand my ground and do what I knew I must do.

After many discussions and prayers all involved were convinced that they were not going to change my decision. My husband stood with me and supported my decision, but his fear of the unknown and the very real possibility of losing his wife was a constant presence. Another doctor was sent in to discuss my situation with me, and I was given the opportunity to voice why I was making the decision that I was. It boiled down to this. Do I really believe what I have said I believe all of these years?

Do I believe that there is One Almighty God who is the creator of life? Do I believe that He and He alone has the right to choose life and death? I read it in His Word. Do I really believe it? Do I believe that God's power trumps man's wisdom? Do I believe that God created the life inside of me and that He has a very real purpose for this life? Do I believe that abortion is murder? And, do I believe that if I die trying to give this child life that this is what is best for my family? The answer to each of these questions was a resounding - YES!

I know that my God is real. I know his power is real and I know that He is wiser than I and these decisions must be his. Of course, I had my own preference and I didn't waste any time letting him know what that was. For the next 6 weeks I was confined to the hospital bed where I prayed constantly. Each morning as the doctors would arrive and shake their heads in amazement that I was still there, I thanked the Lord and asked for another day.

Each day I petitioned the Lord to strengthen the baby inside of me, so that when my body would no longer protect him, he would be able to survive. With each day the risk increased. With each day the fears of many increased. With each day my physical strength decreased, but my faith increased. The doctors told me that there would be no effort to resuscitate or save my baby until we made it to week 24. A calendar was created by my children and the date that we reached week 24 was highlighted. Each day was counted down.

When the day beginning week 24 arrived, we were told that we had already seen a miracle. What the doctors said would not happen past a week had indeed happened. I was wheeled to the ultrasound room where they took a look at the baby, told me he was indeed still too tiny and that the danger had increased even more. Shots were given to me to bolster the baby's lungs and the daily routine continued. I began to receive visits from NICU experts explaining to me how small my child would be, the facts concerning his odds when he was born and the fact that we faced a very difficult life with a severly brain damaged child - if by some miracle he survived.

It was exactly 2 weeks from the day I reached the beginning of week 24. My husband had brought me a steak and salad for our routine Friday night date - in the hospital. As I finished my meal and he stood to take my plate away he made a wise crack. I laughed and my uterus ruptured. The panic of the next few minutes was very real as the precious nurses who had cared for me for so long frantically worked to get me to surgery. I was told later of the prayers that they shared and the long night that they each endured.

Several miracles took place that night: a 2 lb baby was given to a doctor and whisked away to the NICU with very little chance of survival. He had survived in utero with literally shreds of placenta to nourish him. Most of it was gone. Within 24 hours he weighed 1 lb 12 oz and continued to fight for life at this size for weeks to come. The doctors spent the next 5 hours working on me.

I have read the reports of volumes of blood that were lost, of organs that were damaged and bleeding uncontrollably, of doctors and nurses laying their bodies over mine to hold things together and trying to control what was happening. Blood had been collected for me ahead of time and was poured in as fast as possible. My husband was told that they didn't know if either one of us would survive.

When I awoke in ICU on life support the next day my husband and one of the doctors was standing over me. With tears in her eyes the doctor told me that she did not know how I had survived! My husband just looked at me and said, "You made it!" Indeed I had! God had shown himself awesomely powerful to a hospital full of skeptics! In the following months spent in the NICU I would meet several doctors who had been present during my life saving surgery. One particular discussion remains in my mind.

An older doctor with many years of experience told me that the doctors had not saved me. He acknowledged that this had been the most stressful night of his career and he knew Someone else had been present and allowed me to live.

Today almost 4 years later I am the proud Momma of 9 beautiful children. The baby of the family is small, wears tiny glasses, and has been through several surgeries. While parenting him has brought us new challenges, it has brought us many more joys! The greatest of them is this: he is a constant reminded that our God is the creator of life. Each fetus is indeed a baby. Each baby was created with a purpose. Only God knows all of the purposes and only God has the right to end a life. Yes, even if the Mom's life is at risk!