Remembering Baby R

Baby R came into this world and left us, completely unknown to the community and to the world, except for the very few who had a chance to see her. When I first met Baby R she was only 8 weeks old, safely tucked in her mother's womb. I watched on the monitor as the sonographer worked hard to find Baby R. Then suddenly, there she was. Just a tiny 'jelly bean' but distinctly baby. I thought, she is too small, we'll never really see much. But, before that thought finished we could see the flicker of Baby R's heart. The rhythm was strong and clear.

Silently I watched. Moving my gaze to Baby R's mother who was laying on the exam table. She laid there with both her arms placed firmly over her eyes so she could see nothing. When the Doppler was turned on, and the rhythm of Baby R's heart filled the room, you could tell that mom wanted to cover her ears; but to do that meant she would have to uncover her eyes and so she laid there motionless.

Baby R's mother knew that continuing the pregnancy meant great sacrifice. Young, frightened, alone and with no family in the area to be with her she is faced with a monumental decision. One that she feels completely inadequate to make. We went into an office and talked for a while. She was resigned to the fact that she felt ending the pregnancy was the only thing she could do, yet she still agreed to come back in one week.

It was a long week for me as I prayed for mom and for Baby R. Wishing something in their lives could be different and that there would be a miracle for them.

The next time I met Baby R she was 9 weeks old. This time mom did not cover her eyes. But her body language was one of defeat and resignation. Here eyes were void of emotion and she stared blankly during the ultrasound. Baby R had grown a lot in that one week. She was now bigger than a jelly bean and I could distinguish her head from her body. Tiny little leg buds and arm buds were clearly visible. The flicker of her heart stronger and brighter than the week before. Baby R had no idea of the difficulties her mother was facing and no idea that her life was in danger. I felt my heart pound harder as I looked at the monitor for the last time.

Mom and I again talked in another room after the ultrasound was over. We cried together and prayed together. Mom looked completely and utterly hopeless. Through her tears she said she wished there was another way. THERE IS, I wanted to shout but experience has taught me that she could not see it. Fear of what would happen if she allowed the pregnancy to continue was stronger than the instinct to protect her child.

Two days later mom called me and confirmed the news I had been expecting. The "procedure" was over, "it was done".

I am profoundly grieved.

Mom's voice cracked as she said "it was harder than I thought it would be", she asked "do you hate me now"? The question pierced my heart like a dagger. How could I possibly hate this beautiful young woman? God has bound my soul and my heart to hers. I grieve for her and for Baby R. She has a hard road to go down and I will continue to pray for her and be there for her should she need me. I wish she had made a different choice, but it was not my decision to make. We talked briefly for a while and I could hear in her voice that the pain killers she had taken were starting to make her tired. I told her to rest now. We hung up.

Silence filled my mind and seemed to echo in my apartment. My heart felt so heavy in my chest that I thought gravity might physically lower it. The grief was so deep that tears would not come. Baby R, I will always remember her and her mother. An innocent life, legally ended. A sweet young woman, scared and vulnerable, now carries memories she wishes were not there. When will we see the truth? When will we understand? God forgive us.