Let me preface this article to say that I'm not stirring a pot. I found this article a little dispassionate considering the choice made.
When One Is Enough
By AMY RICHARDS as told to AMY BARRETT
Published: July 18, 2004
I grew up in a working-class family in Pennsylvania not knowing my father. I have never missed not having him. I firmly believe that, but for much of my life I felt that what I probably would have gained was economic security and with that societal security. Growing up with a single mother, I was always buying into the myth that I was going to be seduced in the back of a pickup truck and become pregnant when I was 16. I had friends when I was in school who were helping to rear nieces and nephews, because their siblings, who were not much older, were having babies. I had friends from all over the class spectrum: I saw the nieces and nephews on the one hand and country-club memberships and station wagons on the other. I felt I was in the middle. I had this fear: What would it take for me to just slip?
Now I'm 34. My boyfriend, Peter, and I have been together three years. I'm old enough to presume that I wasn't going to have an easy time becoming pregnant. I was tired of being on the pill, because it made me moody. Before I went off it, Peter and I talked about what would happen if I became pregnant, and we both agreed that we would have the child.
I found out I was having triplets when I went to my obstetrician. The doctor had just finished telling me I was going to have a low-risk pregnancy. She turned on the sonogram machine. There was a long pause, then she said, ''Are you sure you didn't take fertility drugs?'' I said, ''I'm positive.'' Peter and I were very shocked when she said there were three. ''You know, this changes everything,'' she said. ''You'll have to see a specialist.''
My immediate response was, I cannot have triplets. I was not married; I lived in a five-story walk-up in the East Village; I worked freelance; and I would have to go on bed rest in March. I lecture at colleges, and my biggest months are March and April. I would have to give up my main income for the rest of the year. There was a part of me that was sure I could work around that. But it was a matter of, Do I want to?
I looked at Peter and asked the doctor: ''Is it possible to get rid of one of them? Or two of them?'' The obstetrician wasn't an expert in selective reduction, but she knew that with a shot of potassium chloride you could eliminate one or more.
Having felt physically fine up to this point, I got on the subway afterward, and all of a sudden, I felt ill. I didn't want to eat anything. What I was going through seemed like a very unnatural experience. On the subway, Peter asked, ''Shouldn't we consider having triplets?'' And I had this adverse reaction: ''This is why they say it's the woman's choice, because you think I could just carry triplets. That's easy for you to say, but I'd have to give up my life.'' Not only would I have to be on bed rest at 20 weeks, I wouldn't be able to fly after 15. I was already at eight weeks. When I found out about the triplets, I felt like: It's not the back of a pickup at 16, but now I'm going to have to move to Staten Island. I'll never leave my house because I'll have to care for these children. I'll have to start shopping only at Costco and buying big jars of mayonnaise. Even in my moments of thinking about having three, I don't think that deep down I was ever considering it.
The specialist called me back at 10 p.m. I had just finished watching a Boston Pops concert at Symphony Hall. As everybody burst into applause, I watched my cellphone vibrating, grabbed it and ran into the lobby. He told me that he does a detailed sonogram before doing a selective reduction to see if one fetus appears to be struggling. The procedure involves a shot of potassium chloride to the heart of the fetus. There are a lot more complications when a woman carries multiples. And so, from the doctor's perspective, it's a matter of trying to save the woman this trauma. After I talked to the specialist, I told Peter, ''That's what I'm going to do.'' He replied, ''What we're going to do.'' He respected what I was going through, but at a certain point, he felt that this was a decision we were making. I agreed.
When we saw the specialist, we found out that I was carrying identical twins and a stand alone. My doctors thought the stand alone was three days older. There was something psychologically comforting about that, since I wanted to have just one. Before the procedure, I was focused on relaxing. But Peter was staring at the sonogram screen thinking: Oh, my gosh, there are three heartbeats. I can't believe we're about to make two disappear. The doctor came in, and then Peter was asked to leave. I said, ''Can Peter stay?'' The doctor said no. I know Peter was offended by that.
Two days after the procedure, smells no longer set me off and I no longer wanted to eat nothing but sour-apple gum. I went on to have a pretty seamless pregnancy. But I had a recurring feeling that this was going to come back and haunt me. Was I going to have a stillbirth or miscarry late in my pregnancy?
I had a boy, and everything is fine. But thinking about becoming pregnant again is terrifying. Am I going to have quintuplets? I would do the same thing if I had triplets again, but if I had twins, I would probably have twins. Then again, I don't know.
Spidey's mom, ADN, BSN, RN
11,305 Posts
It has been interesting that this article has received numerous responses by other columnists, not to mention the feedback the NYT has gotten. I read one article today that sort of encompassed all the we said here so I'll post it for those interested.
The right to choose comes with multiple moral consequences
Doug Bandow (archive)
July 26, 2004 | Print | Send
WASHINGTON - It's called "selective reduction." It means killing one or more babies when a woman is pregnant with "multiples." It is a difficult decision of great moral moment.
But not in the view of freelance lecturer Amy Richards, whose account appears in The New York Times Magazine. She was living with her boyfriend and decided to go off the pill. They agreed to have the child if one showed up.
Alas, three babies appeared. Now what?
Her income would take a hit. "There was a part of me that was sure I could work around that," she allowed. But, "Do I want to?"
No. There were health risks. Moreover, "I'll have to start shopping only at Costco and buying big jars of mayonnaise." So she went off to the specialist, who would shoot potassium chloride into two of the fetuses.
When looking at the sonogram, her boyfriend, Peter, thought: "Oh my gosh, there are three heartbeats. I can't believe we're about to make two disappear."
But the doctor pushed him out of the room and did the deed. In Richards' view "it's the woman's choice."
"Choice." Making two heartbeats disappear is simply a "choice."
Choice is the mantra chanted by abortion supporters. The group NARAL now styles itself "NARAL Pro-Choice America."
Sen. John Kerry, D-Mass., promises to "protect the right to choose." Those who criticize abortion are accused of being "anti-choice."
Yet abortion really is not about choice. It is about consequence. The consequences of choices freely made.
Consider Richards. She chose to have sex with someone. She chose to go off the pill. Choices appropriately left to her, unregulated by government.
But having enjoyed the freedom to make those choices, she wanted to avoid responsibility for the results: becoming pregnant with triplets.
If you want the right to choose to have sex with whomever you want whenever you want, you can't act surprised when a child (or children) shows up. Especially if you knowingly dropped birth control.
It is life. Maybe not fully formed. Maybe not fully conscious. But even Kerry admits that it is life.
Which means that "selective reduction" is not the same as breast reduction. Or most any other medical treatment.
One can argue that the child's right to live is not absolute. Abortion is not the same as murder or infanticide. It's certainly more complicated when the mother's health (and the children's survival, in the case of multiples) is at issue.
So there's room for a debate over differing circumstances, responsibilities, regulations, and penalties. Childbearing decisions are intensely personal and any government intervention would be highly intrusive.
But accountability is fundamental, especially for a society that claims to be both free and good. The baby is not a choice. It is a life. And life should not be terminated because one fears having to shop at Costco. Especially while adoption is a positive alternative.
Of course, biology remains unfair, because the burden of pregnancy falls upon women rather than men. But abortion is not a "women's issue." It affects all of us. In fact, some of the strongest proponents of abortion are single men, who see it as a means to avoid commitment and marriage.
Moreover, the chief victims of abortion are women. Set aside long-term physical problems, a much-contested issue, and psychological harms. Abortion is commonly used as a tool for sex-selection. And it usually is wielded against girls. Often in Asia but even in the United States parents tend to prefer boys, and therefore disproportionately make female heartbeats "disappear."
It's easy to preach to women facing unwanted pregnancies, whether of one child or "multiples." Those interested in saving the lives of children should never underestimate the burden they would impose on recalcitrant mothers.
Pro-life activists should help reduce the burden of women who reluctantly carry to term. But imposing responsibilities on those who oppose abortion does not diminish the responsibility that people incur when engaging in the act that creates life. Choices have consequences, for which people must be accountable.
"The right to choose is a fundamental right," said Kerry in his maiden Senate speech 19 years ago. But the right to choose is fully protected in the United States today.
Men and women are free to choose to have sex, without birth control, as often as they like with whomever they like. They seek the "right to choose" abortion in order to escape responsibility for their other choices.
Euphemisms like "selective reduction" cannot disguise the fact that abortion kills. And the decision to kill should never be treated as anything other than the most serious moral challenge that we can face.
Doug Bandow is a Senior Fellow at the Cato Institute
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"In fact, some of the strongest proponents of abortion are single men, who see it as a means to avoid commitment and marriage" . . . . .I've thought this for a long time - steph