The doctor wasn’t required to tell me lies about the risks of removing that life-threatening pregnancy while I was also freaking out about whether or not I was going to wake up missing bits of me again. The ultrasound tech was allowed to be decent and compassionate toward us, instead of being forced to play us the sound of that doomed heartbeat and describe what few anatomical features she might have seen, even as my husband and I were both crying over what we’d suddenly realized was our loss. The only waiting period they had to be concerned about was the safe time they could operate based on when I’d recently eaten. I’m grateful that I was able to walk into that health-care facility without a sidewalk circus of nasty strangers talking to me about a baby that wasn’t coming, or calling me names as I went by and blocking my way during a very hard walk, or shouting at my heartbroken husband that he needed to “man up” and stop me.
Source: rhrealitycheck.org
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