The pro-life conversion Abby Johnson in his own words "ultrasound that changed my life," Cheryl stuck his head in my office. "Abby, need to return an extra person to the examination room. Are you free? ".
Surprised, I looked up my papers. "Sure."
Although he had been with Planned Parenthood for eight years, had never been assigned to the examination room to help the team doctor for an abortion, and had no idea why I need now. Nurses were the only profession that helped in abortions, no other clinic staff. As director of this clinic in Bryan, Texas, in a pinch I could replace anyone in any position, except, of course, the doctors or nurses who perform medical procedures. On a few occasions I agreed to order a patient to stay with her and hold her hand during the procedure, but only when I was the counselor who had worked with her during the intake and counseling. That was not the case today. So I asked myself why I need?
The abortionist who was visiting today had been here in Bryan clinic two or three times before. He had an office private abortions about 250 miles away. When I spoke to him about the job several weeks earlier he had told me that in his own establishment abortions were only guided by ultrasound, which is the abortion procedure with minimal risk of complications for women. Since this method allows the physician to see exactly what is going on inside the uterus, there is less chance of puncturing the uterine wall, which is one of the risks of abortion. I respected that about him. This is the maximum that could be done to keep women safe and healthy, the best as far as I'm concerned. However, I explained that this practice was no protocol in our clinic. He understood and said he would respect our typical procedure, although it was agreed that he would be free to use ultrasound if she was in a particular situation warrants it.
To my knowledge we never had abortions guided by ultrasound in our facilities. Did abortions only every other Saturday, and the goal assigned in those days by our affiliate Planned Parenthood was to make 25 to 35 procedures. We liked to conclude around 2 pm Our typical procedure took about 10 minutes, but an ultrasound added about five minutes, and when you're trying to schedule up to 35 abortions a day, those extra minutes add up.
For a moment I felt disgust outside the examination room. I never liked to go in this room for an abortion, because I never accepted what was happening behind that door. But we all had to be ready at any time to pitch in and do the job, I opened the door and entered.
The patient was already sedated, still conscious but dazed, bright light falling on her doctor. She was in position, the tools were neatly arranged on the tray next to the doctor and a nurse practitioner was placing the ultrasound machine side of the table.
"I'm going to have an abortion guided by ultrasound in this patient. I need to keep the probe from the device, "explained the doctor.
When I had the ultrasound probe into the hand and adjusted the settings on the machine, I argued with myself: I do not want to be here. I do not want to participate in abortion. In fact, it was a wrong attitude, because I needed psych for this task. I breathed deeply and tried to tune the radio music, which sounded softly in the background. It's a good learning experience - I have never seen an abortion guided by ultrasound, I thought. Maybe this will help me when advising women. I will learn first hand about this procedure safer. In addition, I will be out in just a few minutes.
I had not imagined how the next 10 minutes would shake the foundation of my values \u200b\u200band change the course of my life.
Occasionally, I had done before with ultrasound diagnostics for customers. This was one of the services we offered to confirm pregnancy and estimate how advanced it was. The familiarity of preparing for an ultrasound to calm my anxiety about being in this room. I applied the oil on the belly of the patient and then move the probe from the device until it saw on the screen and adjusted the uterus position of the probe to capture the image of the fetus.
I was waiting to see what he had seen on earlier ultrasounds. Usually, depending on how far along was the pregnancy and the fetus is moving, it saw the first leg, head or a partial image of the torso, so I had to maneuver a bit to get the best picture possible. But this time the image was complete, ie I could see the complete and perfect profile of a baby.
It looks like Grace at 12 weeks, I surprised, recalling the first vision I had of my daughter three years ago and protected huddled inside my belly. The image that was now in front of me looked the same, only clearer and sharper. The detail surprised me. I could clearly see the profile of the head, both arms, legs and even the tiny fingers and toes. It was a perfect image.
rapidly flapping But the warm memory of Grace was replaced by a wave of anxiety. What I see? My stomach became rigid. I do not want to see what is about to happen.
guess that sounds strange, coming from a professional who had administered a Planned Parenthood clinic for two years, counseling women in crisis, programming abortions, reviewing the monthly reports of the clinic budget, hiring and training staff. But strange or not, the simple fact is that I had never been interested in the promotion of abortion. I had come to Planned Parenthood eight years earlier, believing that its purpose was mainly to prevent unwanted pregnancies and therefore reduce the number of abortions. This was definitely my goal. And I thought Planned Parenthood was saving lives, the lives of women without the services provided by this organization, could use a butcher in the street. All this sped through my mind as I carefully held the probe in position.
"Thirteen weeks", I heard the nurse after to make measurements to determine fetal age.
"Okay," said the doctor looking at me, "just keep the probe in position during the procedure, so I can see what I'm doing."
The fresh air of the examination room left me cold. My eyes were still glued to the image of this baby perfectly formed, as it was when I saw this a new image on the screen. The stent - a device attached to the end of the suction pipe - had been inserted into the uterus and is coming to stand next to your baby. It looked like an invader on the screen, out of place. Bad, it just looked bad. My heart
accelerated. Time became slower. I do not want to look, but I would love to look good. I could not not watch. I was horrified, but fascinated at the same time, like a flycatcher that slows as it passes alongside some horrible remnants of a car, not wanting to see a mangled body, but looking the same.
My eyes flew to the patient's face, tears running down the corners of her eyes. I could see he was sore. The nurse wiped her face with a tissue.
"Just breathe", the nurse encouraged gently. "Breathe."
"is almost over," I whispered. Wanted stay focused on it, but my eyes were plunged back into the picture on the screen.
At first, the baby did not seem aware of the cannula. He stood next to the baby gently, and for a moment I felt quick relief. Of course, I thought. The fetus feels no pain. I was reassured countless women about this, as I had been taught at Planned Parenthood. The fetal tissue does not feel anything when it is removed. Understand, Abby. This is a quick and simple medical procedure. My head was working full time to check my answers, but I could not remove an inner restlessness that was rapidly reaching the top of horror when I saw the screen.
The next move was the sudden shock of a small foot, when the baby started kicking, as if trying to get away from the invasive probe. As you squeeze the tube to the side, the baby began to struggle to twist and turn away. It seemed clear that I could feel the tube, and not liked what he was feeling. And then the doctor's voice broke through, causing me a scare.
"Smile, Scotty," he said casually to the nurse. He was telling him to return to the suction - in abortion, the suction is not activated until the doctor feel that the tube is in the right place.
I had a sudden urge to yell "Stop!". I wanted to shake the woman and say, "Look what is happening to your baby! Wake up! Hurry! Make them stop! ".
But even when I thought these words, I saw my own hand holding the probe. I was one of "them" to carry out this act. My eyes were immersed again in the display. The cannula was already being tapped by the doctor, and now I could see the little body writhing violently with it. In the brief time that the baby looked like I was being squeezed as a tea towel, he turned and shrugged. And then collapsed and began to disappear into the cannula before my eyes. The last thing I saw was the backbone small, perfectly formed, sucked into the tube, and then left. The uterus was empty, totally empty.
froze, could not believe it. Without realizing it, I let go of the probe. It moved away from the patient's belly and slid on his leg. I could feel my heart pounding, pounding so hard that my neck was quivering. I tried to take a deep breath, but could not breathe in or out. I kept looking at the screen, though it was black, because I had lost the image. But was not recorded anything for me. I was too stunned to move and shake. I heard the doctor and nurse talking casually as they worked, but sounded distant, like a vague background noise, difficult to hear the beating of my own blood in my ears.
The image of the little body, maimed and aspiration, was repeating in my mind, and with it the first ultrasound image of Grace, which was approximately the same size. And I remember and hear one of the many discussions he had had with my husband, Doug, on abortion.
"When you were pregnant with Grace, she was a fetus, but a baby," said Doug. And now it hits me like lightning: I was right! What was in the womb of this woman just now was something alive. It was not just tissues and cells. He was a human baby. And I was fighting for his life! A battle lost in the blink of an eye. I've told people for years, what I believed and taught and defended, is a lie.
I suddenly felt the eyes of the doctor and nurse on me. This took me from my thoughts. I realized that the probe was extended in her legs and could hardly put it back in place. But now my hands were shaking.
"Abby, are you okay?" Asked the doctor. The nurse's eyes sought my face, because she was worried.
"Yes, I'm fine." Had not yet located the probe into the correct position and was now worried because the doctor could not see inside the uterus. My right hand holding the probe, and my left hand was carefully placed on the warm womb of the woman. I looked into the face, in which there were more tears and winced. I ran the probe until the image of the uterus recovered now empty. My eyes traveled back to my hands. I watched them as if they were not mine.
How much damage has been done these hands in the last eight years? How many lives have been taken because of them? Not just my hands, but because of my words. What if I had known the truth, and I told all these women?
What if?
I had believed a lie! I had blindly promoted the "company line" for so long. Why? Why had not sought the truth for myself? Why I had closed my ears to the arguments he had heard? Oh, my God, what have I done?
My hand was still in the womb of the patient, and I felt he had just taken some of it with that hand. I had stolen. And my hand started hurting. I felt a real physical pain. And there, standing beside the table, my hand into the womb of the woman weeping, this thought came from deep inside of me: Never again! Never again.
I went into autopilot. When the nurse cleaned the woman left the ultrasound machine, then gently woke the patient, who was weak and stupid. I helped her sit, sat in a wheelchair and took her to the recovery room. I wrapped it with a light blanket. Like so many patients he had seen before, she continued crying, wrapped in an obvious emotional and physical pain. I my best to make her feel more comfortable.
Ten minutes, maybe 15 at most, had passed since Cheryl had asked me out to help in the examination room. And in those few minutes everything had changed. Dramatically. The image of that little baby squirming and fighting continued several times in my mind. And the patient: I felt so guilty. I had taken something precious from her, and she did not even know.
How had it come to this? How had she allowed this to happen? I had committed to fund my heart and my career at Planned Parenthood because I cared about women in crisis. And now I was faced a crisis that was entirely mine.
Looking back at that day in late September 2009, I realize how wise is God for not revealing our future for us. If I had known then that he was about to be in the middle of a firestorm, I could not have had the courage to move forward. So, since I did not know, was not yet seeking to be brave. However, I was looking to understand how I found myself in this place - living a lie, spreading a lie and hurting the very women who I wanted to help.
And I desperately needed to know what to do next.
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This is a design by Marilyn Murphy, published with Knitting Bags Knitting Daily (The magazine may be downloaded free from the Knitting Daily website.) 
