We named her Clara. (a story about terminating a wanted pregnancy)

My story starts out full of innocence and love. My husband and I were overjoyed when we found out we were expecting our second baby just a few weeks into our marriage.

Our baby was planned, wanted, so loved.

But at our 11-to-14 week scan, everything was wrong. Our baby had so many anomalies. My doctor told us, “Your baby’s heart will probably stop very soon.” On that ultrasound table, time slowed to a crawl and sped up all at once. It was like falling into a black hole, and everything sounded tinny. The doctor kept talking, but the words made no sense. Cystic hygroma, hydrops, no nasal bone. He asked us what our religious beliefs were on termination. 

We were sent home with a piece of paper that said the probable cause of all her conditions: “Turner's syndrome.” The frantic Googling started and pulled up terms like “incompatible with life,” and “less than 1% survival rate.” 

After soul-searching and seeking other medical opinions, our decision became clear. We had to end the pregnancy. If we would have continued to (most likely premature) birth, our baby would have suffocated in minutes or hours at most.

So we went through with the termination, an early second-trimester abortion, to save her suffering and to save my life. After that, my only view was the light streaming under my bedroom door, from inside the cave of my blinds-pulled-at-all-hours grieving den.

It took all my strength to get my oldest daughter ready for school, dropped off, and then I would come home and sleep. And lie down. And sleep some more. And cry and cry. Unless I had a class or work to do.

Sleep was no respite. The nightmares were worse than my waking hours. I went through so many medical & psych professionals until I diagnosed myself with PTSD. My official diagnosis came from a trauma-informed therapist. With EMDR therapy, my therapist helped me get the flashbacks and hyper-vigilance under control.

A lot of my trauma stemmed from the fact that I couldn’t be honest about the way my daughter died. I was shunned, directly and indirectly, in a few so-called “Christian” pregnancy loss groups. And I couldn't tell extended family members for fear of more shunning. To feel like you will lose your family, your place in your community…it made everything feel so shaky and fragile. And it still is.

We named her Clara. Her name is Clara. 

I loved and always will love my daughter, and I made the best medical decision I could to take away her suffering and potentially save my own life. It matters that we could choose peace for her. It matters that I can continue to be a mom to my older daughter. My own health matters. My life matters. I just want to be seen as a loss mom.

In 2020 I became a Baby Loss Doula, so I can help other families going through this deep pain. I am now building the community I needed in the wake of my loss, through thetfmrdoula.com with a podcast, many resources and classes, one-on-one support, retreats, and online support groups. It's a lonely, lonely experience, because it's a pretty uncommon type of pregnancy loss — and many of us do not share the details of our loss, so it's hard to find kindred spirits. I hope to change that.

- Sabrina