A reader writes:
You guys ran a series of personal abortion stories at one point. New York Magazine has done something similar with poignant stories coupled with stark photography. Some of the comments are even more poignant than the articles.
Here’s Dana from Colorado:
After Dr. Tiller was killed, I watched the man I didn’t know would become my doctor talking on the news, rubbed my belly, and wondered how anyone could possibly have a late-term abortion. A month later, I understood. During the 29-week ultrasound, the ventricles in the brain were enlarged. There aren’t adjectives to describe how I felt when we learned a few weeks later her neurological system wasn’t formed. It’s not that I didn’t want an imperfect child; even if we had all the interventions, she’d have seizures 70 percent of the time, never suck or breathe.
And Rachel from West Virginia:
I have schizoaffective disorder.
I’m fine on my meds, but I was scared I might hurt a child like my parents hurt me. When I started understanding my family’s history of mental illness, my husband and I said, “Okay, let’s stop the cycle of abuse and not have kids.” When I found out I was pregnant, I just started sobbing. The doctor slipped me some cards for clinics in different states. She couldn’t be pro-choice publicly—we live in a very religious area in West Virginia—but she knew that I couldn’t keep taking my meds during a pregnancy. …
“Wonderful” is a weird word to use, but inside the clinic was wonderful. There was a sensation of finally being able to breathe.