Dear Neighbor
Dear neighbor,
We’ve never met, but I live in the neighborhood and noticed your “vote pro-life” yard sign on a walk recently. I’d like to share my perspective on the matter, as someone living in what I’ll call the gray.
On March 21, 2023 my daughter Brynn was born eight weeks early. A series of ultrasounds, an MRI, and a heart echo had shown us, over the six weeks prior to delivery, there were some concerns with her development. She had micrognathia (an underdeveloped jaw), clubbed feet, and a small stomach. Without genetic testing, there was no way to know the extent of her situation. For weeks, we lived in limbo. The emotional toll was excruciating; everything was on the table, from mild developmental delays to a fatal anomaly.
While her condition was my primary concern, it became apparent I was also at risk as the pregnancy progressed. Because of the micrognathia, I developed polyhydramnios (excessive amniotic fluid surrounding Brynn). At 31 weeks pregnant an ultrasound showed my condition was only worsening, and I was admitted to the hospital on March 14.
After a stressful week of monitoring, in an OR filled to the brim with doctors and nurses, Brynn Everly was born via C-section. What should have been one of the sweetest, most treasured moments of my life was more like every parent’s worst nightmare. Immediately, I knew we were in worst-case-scenario territory because she didn’t make a sound. She couldn’t.
Doctors were able to intubate, but her condition was dire. Her heart couldn’t function on its own.
It’s impossible to overstate how incredibly excruciating it is to watch your tiny, beloved newborn baby suffer horrifically, in a way that can’t be fixed. Being unable to hold and comfort Brynn was an agony no parent should endure. For the next 32+ hours, her doctors and nurses worked tirelessly while my husband and I hovered helplessly. Those hours simultaneously felt like mini eternities and like mere seconds. I will forever be haunted by the moment my husband and I had to make the most painful, gut-wrenching decision of our lives.
The first time I held my daughter we were being wheeled to a private room to say our goodbyes. How do you tell the baby you wanted with your whole heart goodbye before you even really get to say hello?
It is a unique kind of agony to watch a life slip away before it has the chance to start. To hold the most innocent of humans in your arms, knowing the only way to ease their horrifically unfair suffering is also the one thing that takes them away from you forever.
Months later, we received the results of her genetic tests. She had nemaline myopathy—a hereditary neuromuscular disorder. It varies in severity, but the specific mutations my husband and I passed to her were the most severe and are fatal.
Because of this, we now know any child of ours has a 25% chance of also inheriting the disorder, which would cause the same fate as their sister. From the outside, it might be tempting to think 25% is not much. That’s a 75% chance he/she would be perfectly healthy, after all. But from the perspective of a parent who has already endured the worst, that number is astronomical.
If you were told there is a 25% chance you’ll get in a car accident and die the next day if you drive Car A, what would you do? Take Car B instead—it’s a no-brainer.
In our case, the Car B option is using IVF to conceive another child. For us, IVF is the only feasible path forward to grow our family. It will allow for genetic testing on the embryo(s) to detect the mutated genes, and consequently avoid using any carrying them. It is unconscionable for anyone to think embryos with the mutated genes should be transferred.
For families like ours, as well as countless others whose path to parenthood requires IVF due to infertility or other issues, the loss of IVF services is too painful to fathom. Except that’s exactly what the Supreme Court of Alabama did to its residents by declaring embryos are children. I am horrified, heartbroken, and outraged for the families whose lives and futures have been and will be upended because of this ruling, and not just in Alabama.
I’m absolutely terrified it could happen here, because it can. If certain elected officials continue stripping away reproductive rights, more families like mine will be left shattered and without options. The opportunity for families to grow should not be dependent upon the whims of elected officials. The fact the AL legislature had to rush a bill granting immunity to those seeking and providing IVF services shows this ruling was not given nearly enough thought. The bill is nothing but a band-aid on a bullet hole, especially considering it will be automatically repealed June 1, 2025.
I guess, at the end of the day my point is this: If you consider yourself anti-choice because you don’t support abortion, that does not equate to being “pro-life.” Furthermore, in today’s political climate, you cannot be anti-abortion and support IVF—at least not at the ballot box.That has become painfully clear. So consider the families like mine, whose future hinges on IVF access; the babies like my sweet Brynn, who never got to truly live, when you say to “vote pro-life.”
What, exactly, is pro-life about denying families the chance to have healthy children?
I, for one, will forever vote for candidates who are not going to jeopardize my right to grow my family.
Sincerely,
Brynn’s Mama