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The Choice for Life: come what may

With all the March for Life pictures Stephen, my husband, and I have been seeing lately, we decided to share a story that has been very difficult for me to talk about due to the heaviness of what we went through last year. 

 

Last month was the one-year anniversary of a doctor telling me that I did not have good chances of surviving childbirth. And I was 12 weeks pregnant. 

 

We were overjoyed to find out that we were pregnant, especially for our daughter Ellie to have a little sibling to love on. Stephen was in Physcians Assistant (PA) school and was practicing the use of his stethoscope soon after we found out. He heard a “click” in my heart that didn’t sound quite right.

 

After my OBGYN checked me out, I was sent to the cardiologist for an echocardiogram. I was told I had moderate to severe pulmonary hypertension. 

 

The literature provided said my chances of dying were greater than my chances of surviving, and the number one recommendation for my survival was abortion. 

 

The fear was crippling. I had the choice between leaving my toddler, unborn child, and husband with no mother/wife or I would have to kill my unborn baby.

 

I thought about my husband, my child, my parents, my siblings, but most of all, I thought about the small clump of cells growing inside of me. And I knew. I knew without a shadow of a doubt and with every part of my being that the clump of cells inside of me was a life. So we chose life.

 

As I read Ellie, “How Do I Love You” every night for the next week, I cried and thought about how she may never remember me reading to her. And ways I could help her to remember that I loved her even when she was older and I was gone. And I still chose life.

 

And I thought of what it would be like for Stephen to be a widower, without his best friend and partner by his side. And I still chose life.

 

And I thought of all the moments I would never get to have with my unborn baby — of soccer games, high school dances, achievements, and weddings. And I still chose life.

 

I continued my routine as best I could, and we only let those closest to us know what was going on. Our best friends set up a schedule for people to come pray over us every night at dinner. I continued to go into work and tried my best to focus my thoughts on the love I was pouring out for the baby inside of me.

 

Five months later, after months of prayer, immense suffering, 3 more echocardiograms, and many, many, many, many, doctor appointments, I was told that the pulmonary hypertension was gone. 

 

Gone.

 

They stated the reason it showed up in the first place probably had something to do with my asthma in the winter season (although I am a firm believer that prayer probably had a lot more to do with my clean bill of health). 

 

And now, I look at the life that I grew inside of me. My precious little Barrett. And I think about how if I was pro-choice he would be dead right now. And I hold him a little tighter and I hope he will always know that he was worth dying for.

 

Life is worth dying for. And that is why the Pro-Life movement won’t die. Because if I truly believe that life starts as a tiny seed, then I swear I will die for that life every time. Who else will defend the defenseless and speak for those who can’t if I don’t? Love says, “I will die for you.” Death says, “You will die for me.” 

 

 I choose Life.

 

Rose Dominey is a social worker, wife and mother and serves in the Alleluia Music Ministry. She and her husband have two children and attend Saint Joseph Catholic Church in Augusta, Georgia.

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