By Diana Mock

So much joy filled our little home when I told my husband I was pregnant again. We had been trying for most of the year and finally, at the beginning of December,it was confirmed. I was pregnant. Our little 18 month old son even began to understand and we would ask him “where is the baby?” He would also gently pat my belly and kiss it. 

Shortly after Christmas, we went to the first ultrasound appointment. They drew the routine blood to test for genetic mutations, iron levels, etc. During the ultrasound, we saw our precious second child, moving their tiny arms and legs. Their heartbeat was strong and they were perfect. The doctor determined I was about 10 weeks along, due July 26, 2019. 

The next day we received a call asking us to come in as soon as possible to meet with the doctor to discuss the blood test results. I began to panic. I knew that something had to be very, very wrong. 

We sat in the small exam room, the doctor sat across from me and very quickly and plainly told me: “you have leukemia.” Nothing was wrong with the baby, but something was very wrong with my body, my blood. 

Immediately we were rushed off to the hospital. We were still in shock as nurses and doctors explained the situation. I had Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia (ALL), a very fast moving, fatal cancer of the blood. 

The first question I asked was, “what about the baby?” 

The doctor told me that because of the particular nature of my cancer and how early in my pregnancy I was, if I did chemotherapy treatment (essentially the only way to fight ALL), the toxic medications that would save my life would kill my unborn child. If I started chemotherapy while pregnant and miscarried, a miscarriage would most likely kill me. 

I asked the doctor how long I could postpone chemotherapy, hoping maybe I could carry the baby to term and then start treatment. He told me that over 88% of my white blood cells were cancerous and to delay treatment would mean I would probably only have a few weeks to live. 

We sought medical opinions from several other doctors and all of them told me the same thing.  I needed to terminate the pregnancy and start treatment right away. 

I was torn apart with so much pain and grief. The doctors wanted to start chemo as quickly as possible but the one doctor who was qualified to perform an abortion was  out of state on Christmas vacation. We had to wait for her to return. They monitored my blood closely.

Those days of waiting were awful. I was wracked with guilt. The baby was healthy, so I felt like it was my fault. Because my blood was cancerous,  the baby would die. I felt guilty., If I made the decision to end the pregnancy, I was killing my baby to save my life. I also felt guilty because I had a toddler.If I didn’t receive treatment, me and my unborn child would die and I would leave my husband without a wife and my little boy without a mother. 

I felt trapped. It seemed like there was no option that would not end in death and pain. I could not find any peace. 

I barely slept, wrestling with the facts of my new cancer diagnosis alongside needing an  abortion, a procedure that I had always judged harshly. However, deep down I knew I had no other options. I wanted to live for my husband and son. I chose to have the abortion. 

That day was and still is one of the most painful experiences in my life. Trying to process the trauma of a cancer diagnosis on top of having to go through needing an unexpected abortion was so difficult. However, I am grateful that I was able to access the medical care I needed in a safe and timely manner. 

In the three years since my abortion, the politicized battleground of “pro-life” vs “pro-choice” has become only more  apparent. I see posts on social media that say in no uncertain terms that “abortion is murder” and if you get an abortion, you’re a “murderer.” There was one point in my life, I would have agreed with these sentiments, but after needing an abortion myself, my views have changed drastically. I have now met many people who need abortions, sometimes for medical emergencies, sometimes for other reasons, but all of them relay how difficult and painful of a decision it was. And each of them are grateful for the access they had to safe, reliable medical care. 

Recently, access to safe abortions has become less and less reliable across the county.  It seems that many more people are demonzing individual decisions to have an  abortion  without pausing to consider how important it is for so many people, such as myself.  I know that without an abortion I would have died. 

A cancer “journey” can be so isolating and difficult. When an abortion is thrown into the mix, it creates even more turmoil and loneliness, especially when it is a healthcare right  being used as political fodder. 

On my nightstand, I have a picture of my family. There is my husband, my son, me, and next to us, the one picture we got of the child we never held. I mourn the loss of that baby every day but I know, without any doubt, that having an abortion was absolutely the right decision. 

Diana was diagnosed with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia at age 25. She went through several years of chemotherapy and is currently in remission. Diana is also a mom to a rambunctious five year old. She works as a teacher and hopes to one day work as a patient advocate for other cancer patients and survivors.