As November continues (the month marking the anniversary of my prenatal diagnosis) so does my story. November 9th arrived. I was 19 weeks pregnant with twins, and just the week before I had found out that I was going to have a boy and a girl. I had also learned that my little boy had a condition called Congenital Diaphragmatic Hernia. But having had received no information as to the severity of the condition, my husband and I entered the clinic for high-risk pregnancies that day hopeful. I could never have imagined that this was the day my hopes would be shattered.
After waiting for several minutes, an ultrasound technician called out my name and we followed her down a long hallway to the examination room. She dimmed the lights and began a two-hour-long detailed ultrasound taking many pictures and measurements of each baby. As I looked at “Twin A” and “Twin B,” to my untrained eye they both looked perfectly normal.
When the ultrasound ended, we were brought to another room to speak with a doctor about the results. A middle-aged doctor introduced herself and told us that our little boy did in fact have Congenital Diaphragmatic Hernia (CDH).
“Let me explain CDH,” she began, her brown hair tied up in a neat ponytail. “CDH occurs when the diaphragm, the muscle that separates the chest from the abdomen, doesn’t close properly during prenatal development. The hole in the diaphragm allows the organs of the abdomen—the kidneys, intestines, and sometimes the liver—to migrate into the chest. When this happens, they crowd out the lungs and impact their growth and development.
“We can see that the liver and some of the intestines have moved through the hole in the diaphragm of Twin A and have pushed the lungs and heart to the left. The left lung is quite small while the right lung is almost nonexistent.”
She went on to explain that "Twin A,” our son, had only a 25% chance of survival with treatment at birth and if he survived, he would likely go on to have other health concerns such as pulmonary hypertension, asthma, developmental disabilities, scoliosis, feeding disorders, etc.
So there it was. The bleak outlook of our beloved boy for whom we had such hopes and dreams. This was a lot of information to get take in and I wasn’t quite sure what to think. I looked over at Mauricio, and I could see from the look of serious concentration on his face that he is processing the situation.
“Given the severity of the fetus’ condition,” she continued, “you may want to consider having a reduction. We can refer you today to the services you’d require if that's what you choose.” The doctor spoke to us softly, soothingly, with a look of compassion, but I detected some unease beneath the shroud of these words’ significance. “This is a time-sensitive matter, though. We’d like to do the procedure no later than 22 weeks.”
I felt like the wind had been sucked out of me. What is she suggesting? We’ve just been given a devastating diagnosis, without any time to process, and what does she want us to consider? I thought. Before even learning what his treatment options would look like, was she really suggesting we choose to end his life?
I was thankful that Mau was with me, thankful that we had the same convictions even though we hadn’t had the opportunity for discussion, and thankful for Mau’s strength. He responded, “We realize that you’re talking about abortion, and you need to know that abortion isn’t an option for us. We choose life for our child, and we will fight for his life. As long as we can fight for him, we will.” He said this politely, but with a firmness that I admired, not being one myself to speak quite so forthrightly.
This was the first of multiple encounters with medical professionals that we had in which we needed to stand up for the right of our little boy to live—a boy who is precious and beloved, a boy created in the image of God, a boy who was already known by his Father in heaven. The battle for his life had begun; the forces of darkness seeking his demise countered by the forces of light speaking truth and hope and faith.
"For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.” (Psalm 139:13-14)
Stay tuned for next week's post as I continue sharing and contemplating my prenatal diagnosis. Better yet, subscribe today so you never miss out.
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In Him,
Christin
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