I felt helpless laying flat on the table, doctors talking in hushed whispers as they hovered around me. I gripped onto my husband’s quivering hand as he sat and sobbed. As the ultrasound wand circled my swollen belly, I felt like a lab-rat being inspected from the inside out. The pictures on the ultrasound screen spoke two different messages: one to the doctors of deformity, illness, malady, dysfunction; the other to me of a precious silhouette with hiccups, clinched fists, cute crossed legs, sweet nose. The professionals started urging me to take the “best road,” to terminate the pregnancy and …
