I ran into an acquaintance the other day. We were pregnant at the same time, actually due within a week of each other. I had an opportunity to tell her about Palmer, but she hadn't had her developmental ultrasound yet. I didn't want her to have the added stress of worrying about her baby so I said nothing at the time. She quickly asked how the birth went, how he was doing and if I had a picture of him. I started fumbling for words as soon as she asked how the birth went. We had a mutual friend who knew about his condition and promised me they would let her know so there would be no awkward moment. Well that promise clearly did not happen. I explained as quickly as I could about anencephaly and that he had died. This lead to the question of when we found out about his condition. When I said January, she had a puzzled look on her face and asked again when I delivered. When I responded June, she bluntly asked "Why didn't you get rid of him sooner? Wouldn't they let you? Why would you want to carry a baby like that?"
I think I am getting pretty good at that blank, what-in-the-hell-did-you-just-say look. I know I didn't have the best response. Along with being stupefied, I find myself detaching emotionally during these situations. Survival mode I guess. All I could say was "Why wouldn't I carry him?". I looked at her beautiful, perfectly formed baby and looked back up at her and said, "I wanted to love my baby for as long as I could. Wouldn't you?"
This conversation was one of those little reminders as to why God chose me to be Palmer's mom. He was not a "thing" to be thrown away. He was a child to be loved and cherished no matter how brief his life on Earth was.