For us, a sonogram was only a routine exam and we looked forward to finding out if it was a boy or a girl. At 20 weeks, we found out that we were going to have a son. We already had his name picked out, Nicholas Foster. We were overjoyed. We left the hospital w/a video and some pictures and proceeded to show them off.

Later that afternoon, my Dr. called me and said, "I have some bad news, ...oh wait, I've got to go, I'll call you back." As you can imagine, my heart sunk and my imagination went wild while I waited for her to call back. When she finally did, the news was as bad as I'd imagined. "The baby has spina bifida. The defect is very severe." At that moment, it was as if a 18-wheeler had smacked right into me. Of course, this was a Friday afternoon and we looked in vain all weekend for information on spina bifida and found very little. When I talked to my Dr. the next Monday, she admitted, she would terminate the pregnancy if it was her. I couldn't even entertain that thought.

During the next week we visited a children's hospital that had a spina bifida clinic, talked to a pediatric neurosurgeon and two pediatric ICU Drs. The neurosurgeon said that if it was a 'closed' defect, the damage might not be that severe and that we should first find that out through an amnio to check the AFP levels. We had a ray of hope! We were recommended to an OB who specialized in sonograms and by Friday we were in to see him. Imagine our joy when he told us that the defect appeared to be closed. He said there was barely any sign of hydracephalus, very common with spina bifida, and that the baby actually might have a pretty good prognosis. We were on cloud nine. I remember thinking, "I'll show you," about my OB. "I'm going to walk in to your office in a few months with my baby and you'll see, he's going to be OK."

We found a new OB and I went every week. After four weeks, he said," Let's get another sonogram to see how things are going." We actually enjoyed the sonogram and went back to work that day with more pictures for everyone. An amnio had ruled out any chromosomal abnormality and we felt that our son had a great future. Again, a mack truck smacked me out of nowhere when my Dr. called to say that the hydracephalus was 'significantly' worse. "What does that mean?" I asked. He explained that in this case, the prognosis would be much worse. "The brain damage is so severe that the baby will either die before birth or shortly after." At that point, I was 26 weeks

. I yelled at my husband, "I won't even consider ending this pregnancy unless they tell me there's no hope." The next day at my OB's office, he told me there was no hope. I remember pleading," Are you sure, are you sure things might not be as bad as they look?" He said, "I'm sure there is no chance that things won't end up that bad."

I was devastated. When have you ever known a Dr to be so 100% on anything? Then the next bombshell hit. "There is nowhere in Texas that will do a termination this late in the pregnancy," he said. The only place to go is in Wichita, Kansas. Here is the phone number." I almost collapsed in the elevator on the way down. How much worse could this get? I soon found out. "I'm not sure if you're aware of this," said the wonderful woman on the phone at Dr. Tiller's, "but Dr. Tiller was the Dr. who was shot two weeks ago." WHAT? I couldn't believe the only person who could help us almost wasn't there for us due to the violence he was subjected to. I was petrified of what lay ahead. The only comfort I had was that everyone at Dr. Tiller's office seemed so nice on the phone. I now had to wait four long days until my appointment in Kansas.

It was raining the whole way up there and I remember thinking, "How appropriate." We drove by the clinic the night before and checked it out, but that didn't prepare us for what lay ahead in the morning. The protesters were all over the sidewalk and tried to block our car as we drove in. They yelled at us and I remember thinking, "You don't even know me!" When we walked in, I was shaking as they went over our bodies with metal detectors and checked our identification cards. What a welcome. We were escorted into a room where three other families waited. I couldn't believe there were four of us there in one week. All of them had come further than we had and were also told there was nowhere else to go. When Dr. Tiller walked in, at first I was a little taken aback. The man was smiling and acting cheerful, how dare he? Later, after a group meeting with the famlies and Dr. Tiller where he counseled all of us on how to deal with our losses and talked about his life. I felt safe and supported for the first time since I had faced this horrendous nightmare. He cared about me, he understood how awful this was and was so committed to being there for us that he was at work with scabs on his arms from bullet wounds.

I started to think about the future, even another baby. I remember thinking, "If I'm ever lucky enough to have another baby, I'll name him after Dr. Tiller." Three days later, our son Nicholas was stillborn. Afterwards, Dr. Tiller brought him to us and encouraged us to hold him and say goodbye. He also pointed out the anomalies, which were as bad, if not worse, than the Doctors had predicted. I kissed his tiny hands and handed him back to Dr. Tiller in a hat I had bought for him and a blanket that his sister sent. I almost hated to leave Kansas and Dr. Tiller the next day. At least with him I felt safe and supported. But of course, we had to go back to our lives and "get on with things." It was terribly lonely because most people had no idea what we had really gone through. I was suspicious of everybody, wondering if they would judge me. My saving grace was the woman I met when I was there. We talked on the phone almost every night and wrote letters too. At least there was one person who knew exactly how awful things had been.

Time has moved on, the pain is much less now. I did have another son, two actually, and one is named after Dr. Tiller! I still keep in touch w/my friend from Kansas and she honored me by being the Godmother of my son. I can now see that I've learned and grown so much from the experience and I thank my son for that. I still have a lot of anger toward those who shouted at me from the street. I don't understand why they thought they knew what was best for me. I know that they could never love my son more than I did. I have come to believe that God was with me when I faced those people during that week and that he helped me through this loss. I believe that he helped me by giving me a friend to help me through it and a loving Doctor who risked his life to help me.

Have a story you'd like added here? Send us an e mail!