Скачать или смотреть The Choice, by Hilary Chavez (Turn the Page)

This digital story was created in a custom digital storytelling workshop sponsored by the Virginia Neonatal Perinatal Collaborative,with guidance and assistance from StoryCollab facilitators.
Faced with a terminal diagnosis during pregnancy, Hilary grapples with the agonizing choice between her life and her unborn child's. After intense research and prayer, she chooses to continue the pregnancy.

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Transcript:
If you want to increase your chance of survival, you should terminate your pregnancy. My doctor said.

I sobbed and wailed uncontrollably. I was ten weeks pregnant and the doctors had just confirmed I had a terminal progressive disease called pulmonary arterial hypertension. I was in severe right heart failure and might go into cardiac arrest.

How long do I have to live? If I terminate? Does it guarantee I won't die? I said between sobs. There's a 30 to 40% mortality rate, he said as he handed me more tissues.

A mother's first instinct is to give her life for her child. How was I supposed to choose?

I had suffered two miscarriages, but this baby looked healthy. When we listened to his heart, I wondered what he'd be like. And then, knowing the choice I had to make, I bet I look to stop the tears. I had a four year old daughter and a husband. What would happen to them if I died? What if we both lived but one of us was left with a significant disability? Our care team gently made our options very clear. I agonized over two terrible choices as I started an aggressive and invasive treatment.

Over the next couple of weeks, my husband and I researched similar cases. We cried a lot and prayed even more. We wanted our baby and I wanted to live.

When we went to my follow up appointment, I begged God for a clear sign, like significant improvement in my heart function. When the doctors said they were extremely impressed by the improvement they'd seen, I cried. This wasn't a guarantee we'd both survive. But I knew that God was with us in our decision. My doctors had strongly advised against it, but once we decided they did everything they could to support us in the O.R., I thought about my husband and my daughter and the nurse who advocated for me to be able to wash my hair. After ten days in the hospital, doctors who had brought me gifts on my birthday, I looked over at the nurse who came in on her day off to be with me. I hoped I'd live to meet my son, but I wondered if I'd ever hold him. Tears rolled into my ears as I stared at the ceiling while the OB held my hand and stroked my hair. As the C-section started, my blood pressure dropped and I was losing consciousness. The anesthesiologist gently walked me through every step of the process, keeping me calm.

And finally I heard my son crying.