06-07-2010, 12:30 PM
Should grandparents have a right to stop their grandchildren being aborted?
By Angela Carless
Daily Mail
Last updated at 9:16 AM on 27th May 2010
For grandparents who discover their son or daughter has aborted a baby, it's often an unspoken sorrow. But do they have a right to fight for that life? Because of a medical condition, when Cassey Morris accidentally fell pregnant, she planned a termination.
But her husband's parents pleaded they had rights, too. Here, Cassey, 26, who lives in Essex with partner Richard, 30, explains to ANGELA CARLESS what happened next ...
Snuggled on his grandma’s lap while she rocks him to sleep, my son Harry is gazing up into her eyes with a look of utter devotion. She’s smoothing his hair while he’s gently reaching up to stroke her face.
Meanwhile, on the sofa, Annabelle is kicking her feet and gurgling while her grandpa plays peek-a-boo with her.
Harry is two-and-a-half and Annabelle is 18 months, and they mean the world to me. Like every other mother, I revel in the close bond my children enjoy with their grandparents.
But there’s a special reason why this bond is so exceptional. Without their grandparents’ devoted love, my children wouldn’t be here, and I wouldn’t be a mum.
My children may never know the debt of gratitude they owe their grandparents. But I do, and I’m reminded of it every day.
I adore my children with a passion I never believed possible. And yet when I fell pregnant with Harry, and then with Annabelle, I was determined to have an abortion because doctors told me my epilepsy could seriously harm the baby.
My partner Richard supported me in that. But his parents, Elizabeth and Brian, were equally determined to make me change my mind. Richard was their only child — and I was their only chance for a grandchild.
Growing up in Basildon, Essex, I’d excelled at school and dreamed of being a vet. My father even bought me a pony because I was doing so well. But at 15, I was out riding when I suffered an epileptic fit. It proved to be the first of many terrifying seizures where I’d fall to the ground and shake uncontrollably.
It turned out I was suffering from a severe form of epilepsy which made me sensitive to strobe lights and bright sunlight, among other things.
I was prescribed a powerful anti-convulsent drug to control my seizures, and doctors warned it might affect my fertility. Not only that, I learned that the medication can cause serious defects in unborn babies, including spina bifida.
Some women would have been shattered, but I had always been ambivalent about children, preferring to spent my time with animals.
Because the medication badly affected my concentration, I had to leave school after my AS-levels and give up on my dreams of becoming a vet. Instead, I took a job in a bank.
In 2005, when I was 21, I met Richard through friends and we rapidly found ourselves falling in love. He was a good-looking man with a good sense of humour, if somewhat head-strong. But we made a good team.
WHO KNEW?
One in three families depends on grandparents for childcare, according to a recent report by Grandparents Plus
From the start, I felt it only fair to explain that I didn’t plan on having a family, not only because of the epilepsy but also because I didn’t really want to become a mother.
Richard told me that he understood, and we agreed that we would always have each other.
However, I was aware from early on that his parents had different views. His parents had struggled for ten years to conceive and were over the moon when Richard was born.
They’d always told me what a blessing he had been in their lives.
It was obvious they’d be disappointed by the fact that I was not going to make them grandparents.
As my relationship with Richard became serious, I gently explained that my epilepsy made pregnancy difficult and that I was unlikely to produce a healthy child — both because of the medication I had to take and the danger of my having a mentally handicapped child if, during a seizure, my unborn child would be starved of oxygen.
They tried to hide their disappointment, and I assumed they’d accepted the situation. Certainly my own parents, Angela, 49, and Michael, 50, a property developer, had.
I’m one of four girls, and the whole family have always known that I was the one who did not want to be a mother.
I didn’t think it would end up being such an issue, and I tried to build a good relationship with Richard’s parents, who live in a Grade-II listed home very close to us. Indeed, Richard worked in his father’s car dealership business and we saw a great deal of both his parents.
So, when I fell pregnant three years ago, I was totally unprepared for the emotional onslaught I received.
The pregnancy itself was enough of a shock — Richard and I had been so careful with contraception — but there was absolutely no doubt in either of our minds that I would have a termination.
Doting parents: Cassie and Richard have his parents to thank for their two children
Richard agreed that it was my body and I should do what I felt was right. I was booked in to have an NHS-funded termination and everything was organised when Richard let slip what was happening.
To my utter amazement, his parents rounded on me. How dare I do this without considering them. What about their rights to be grandparents, they wanted to know.
Alternating between anger and tears, Elizabeth pleaded with me: ‘Don’t murder our grandchild. Please give this baby a chance.’
I was stunned. It had simply never occurred to me that they should have a say in what happened to my unborn baby. But they were adamant: it was their grandchild, and they were going to fight for it.
Furious, I argued that it was my body and that a pregnancy could jeopardise my health.
But I felt cornered, and although I was angry with them, and with Richard for telling them and putting me in this horrible situation, I reluctantly agreed to cancel my abortion at least until my 12-week scan.
I was convinced that the scan would throw up problems and I would be left with no choice but to have an abortion. But it didn’t. In fact, the scan showed that everything was normal.
But I was still in a terrible dilemma. Just because the baby looked OK now, that did not mean it would be born healthy, nor that I could safely get through the pregnancy.
If it had been up to me alone, I would still have had an abortion. But now I had my in-laws to consider, and they were desperate for me to continue the pregnancy, convinced this was their only chance of becoming grandparents.
'I was scared I wasn’t a good enough mother, and felt guilty that I hadn’t wanted my baby'
I did understand how much it meant to them, but I also felt that it was all about the baby, and not about what was best for me. Nonetheless, I felt compelled to go along with their wishes and give my baby a chance.
My mother was terribly anxious. She didn’t pressurise me either way, but I know she would have been relieved, for my sake, if I had decided not to go ahead.
But Richard’s parents were thrilled. When I told Elizabeth that all was fine, and showed her the scan picture of my unborn son, her face lit up. She promised me I would never regret my decision.
True to her word, she could not have done more. She showered us with presents and bought all the things we’d need for the nursery — a wardrobe, the cot, a pram and baby clothes.
But even though her excitement was infectious, it was still a terribly difficult pregnancy. My seizures were exhausting, and I was scared of falling to the ground, knocking myself out and damaging the baby.
Harry was born 12 weeks premature by emergency Caesarean on September 2, 2007. I was in hospital having a 28-week scan when I had a four-minute seizure. Medical staff feared I was going into cardiac arrest and decided they had to get the baby out as soon as possible.
Harry weighed just 3lb. When I saw him later that day in the special care baby unit, barely the size of Richard’s fist, my heart went out to him.
But I didn’t feel the surge of love I’d expected. Perhaps it was the stressful pregnancy, or the traumatic birth, but I felt somehow detached. However, Elizabeth and Brian couldn’t have been happier. They rushed to the hospital as soon as he was born, and burst into tears as they watched their grandson in his incubator.
Harry was in hospital for ten weeks. His grandparents visited every single day. Of course, I went to see him, too, but I must admit I often felt I was going through the motions. I was afraid that if I didn’t visit, the nurses would think I was a terrible mother.
Back home, Elizabeth made a point of popping round to help out. I was grateful, but I still felt ambivalent about motherhood. I was scared I wasn’t a good enough mother, and felt guilty that I hadn’t wanted my baby.
And then my world collapsed. Harry was just four months old when I fell pregnant again. It was a total accident, and the last thing we wanted. This time, I was even more determined to have an abortion.
After all, I wasn’t just risking my own life by carrying on with a pregnancy, I was also risking leaving Harry without a mother.
Once again, I told Richard not to tell his parents, and arranged an abortion. I went to the clinic when I was nine weeks pregnant, leaving Harry with his grandparents and telling them I was going shopping.
However, once I’d gone to the clinic, Richard, who was at work, felt compelled to tell his parents the truth. I still don’t know why: perhaps he felt guilty, or maybe he was angry with me for some reason I don’t understand.
I returned to collect Harry to face a huge showdown with my heartbroken in-laws. Angry and disappointed, they questioned how I could consider depriving them of another grandchild when everything had worked out with Harry.
Harsh words were exchanged, and I was left feeling devastated. It was only as I was about to leave that I confessed that, actually, I’d not had the abortion after all.
I’d been booked in to take the so-called abortion pill, but the clinic decided that it was unsafe because of my epilepsy. I’d been told to come back the next day for a surgical procedure.
I was furious with Richard for having told them about my pregnancy, and the second we got home they rang, begging me to reconsider. I tried to explain how difficult it would be for me to cope with two babies, as well as my health issues, but they had an answer for everything. ‘We’ll do all we can to help,’ they promised. ‘Just please, please, let this baby live.’
It was hard to argue against them when they felt so passionately about being grandparents. They were so desperate and so determined to make me change my mind that I found myself weakening.
They absolutely adored Harry, and I didn’t have a scintilla of doubt that my next baby would be every bit as loved. Could I really deny them?
The next day, I rang the abortion clinic to cancel my appointment. My neurologist was very concerned, and my mother was frantic with worry.
'Against the odds, my two babies were normal and thriving. I should have been overjoyed — but I wasn’t'
But I’d made my decision: I was going to keep my child. I just felt too exhausted to fight back, and if this baby was so wanted, then I just had to grit my teeth and pray for a happy outcome.
Annabelle arrived ten weeks early on December 18, 2008, weighing just 4lb 1oz. Also born by emergency Caesarean, she was — like her brother — tiny but healthy.
Her grandparents were overjoyed. And so was Richard, who adored his little girl.
But I still lacked that instant bond which I felt all good mothers should have. Looking at her for the first time, I wondered miserably if I would have to pretend to love her.
Now I had two babies I’d never planned. Against the odds, they were normal and thriving. I should have been overjoyed — but I wasn’t.
Watching her grandparents cooing over her and cuddling her, I felt a mixture of envy and guilt. Why didn’t my babies feel so special to me when they were clearly so very special to their grandparents?
Elizabeth and Brian loved my children unconditionally, and right from the start my children loved them back. I longed to feel the same passion. It was only when Annabelle was nine months old and I took the decision to be sterilised that my mood began to lift.
I’d sit and watch my babies playing and feel quite overwhelmed by love for them. At night, when I tucked them into their cots, I’d marvel at how perfect they were, and how grateful I was to have them.
Watching my two blonde children toddle around the garden hand-in-hand, my heart would flip.
Little by little, I found myself instinctively doing all the things that their grandparents did so naturally. Seeing how close they were to the children helped me build up my own bond.
My own parents, too, have been wonderful, and my father especially has built up a very close bond with Harry. It’s not been an easy journey, but I know without a shadow of a doubt that I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I’ve never really told my in-laws how thankful I am that they stopped me from having not just one abortion but two. This may not be the life I expected or planned for myself — but being a mother is my proudest achievement.
Do grandparents have a right to voice their opinion on abortion? Until it happened to me, I’d have said no. Now I am just so glad that my children’s wonderful grandparents cared enough about their fate to change all our lives.
Read the comments here:
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/articl...orted.html
By Angela Carless
Daily Mail
Last updated at 9:16 AM on 27th May 2010
For grandparents who discover their son or daughter has aborted a baby, it's often an unspoken sorrow. But do they have a right to fight for that life? Because of a medical condition, when Cassey Morris accidentally fell pregnant, she planned a termination.
But her husband's parents pleaded they had rights, too. Here, Cassey, 26, who lives in Essex with partner Richard, 30, explains to ANGELA CARLESS what happened next ...
Snuggled on his grandma’s lap while she rocks him to sleep, my son Harry is gazing up into her eyes with a look of utter devotion. She’s smoothing his hair while he’s gently reaching up to stroke her face.
Meanwhile, on the sofa, Annabelle is kicking her feet and gurgling while her grandpa plays peek-a-boo with her.
Harry is two-and-a-half and Annabelle is 18 months, and they mean the world to me. Like every other mother, I revel in the close bond my children enjoy with their grandparents.
But there’s a special reason why this bond is so exceptional. Without their grandparents’ devoted love, my children wouldn’t be here, and I wouldn’t be a mum.
My children may never know the debt of gratitude they owe their grandparents. But I do, and I’m reminded of it every day.
I adore my children with a passion I never believed possible. And yet when I fell pregnant with Harry, and then with Annabelle, I was determined to have an abortion because doctors told me my epilepsy could seriously harm the baby.
My partner Richard supported me in that. But his parents, Elizabeth and Brian, were equally determined to make me change my mind. Richard was their only child — and I was their only chance for a grandchild.
Growing up in Basildon, Essex, I’d excelled at school and dreamed of being a vet. My father even bought me a pony because I was doing so well. But at 15, I was out riding when I suffered an epileptic fit. It proved to be the first of many terrifying seizures where I’d fall to the ground and shake uncontrollably.
It turned out I was suffering from a severe form of epilepsy which made me sensitive to strobe lights and bright sunlight, among other things.
I was prescribed a powerful anti-convulsent drug to control my seizures, and doctors warned it might affect my fertility. Not only that, I learned that the medication can cause serious defects in unborn babies, including spina bifida.
Some women would have been shattered, but I had always been ambivalent about children, preferring to spent my time with animals.
Because the medication badly affected my concentration, I had to leave school after my AS-levels and give up on my dreams of becoming a vet. Instead, I took a job in a bank.
In 2005, when I was 21, I met Richard through friends and we rapidly found ourselves falling in love. He was a good-looking man with a good sense of humour, if somewhat head-strong. But we made a good team.
WHO KNEW?
One in three families depends on grandparents for childcare, according to a recent report by Grandparents Plus
From the start, I felt it only fair to explain that I didn’t plan on having a family, not only because of the epilepsy but also because I didn’t really want to become a mother.
Richard told me that he understood, and we agreed that we would always have each other.
However, I was aware from early on that his parents had different views. His parents had struggled for ten years to conceive and were over the moon when Richard was born.
They’d always told me what a blessing he had been in their lives.
It was obvious they’d be disappointed by the fact that I was not going to make them grandparents.
As my relationship with Richard became serious, I gently explained that my epilepsy made pregnancy difficult and that I was unlikely to produce a healthy child — both because of the medication I had to take and the danger of my having a mentally handicapped child if, during a seizure, my unborn child would be starved of oxygen.
They tried to hide their disappointment, and I assumed they’d accepted the situation. Certainly my own parents, Angela, 49, and Michael, 50, a property developer, had.
I’m one of four girls, and the whole family have always known that I was the one who did not want to be a mother.
I didn’t think it would end up being such an issue, and I tried to build a good relationship with Richard’s parents, who live in a Grade-II listed home very close to us. Indeed, Richard worked in his father’s car dealership business and we saw a great deal of both his parents.
So, when I fell pregnant three years ago, I was totally unprepared for the emotional onslaught I received.
The pregnancy itself was enough of a shock — Richard and I had been so careful with contraception — but there was absolutely no doubt in either of our minds that I would have a termination.
Doting parents: Cassie and Richard have his parents to thank for their two children
Richard agreed that it was my body and I should do what I felt was right. I was booked in to have an NHS-funded termination and everything was organised when Richard let slip what was happening.
To my utter amazement, his parents rounded on me. How dare I do this without considering them. What about their rights to be grandparents, they wanted to know.
Alternating between anger and tears, Elizabeth pleaded with me: ‘Don’t murder our grandchild. Please give this baby a chance.’
I was stunned. It had simply never occurred to me that they should have a say in what happened to my unborn baby. But they were adamant: it was their grandchild, and they were going to fight for it.
Furious, I argued that it was my body and that a pregnancy could jeopardise my health.
But I felt cornered, and although I was angry with them, and with Richard for telling them and putting me in this horrible situation, I reluctantly agreed to cancel my abortion at least until my 12-week scan.
I was convinced that the scan would throw up problems and I would be left with no choice but to have an abortion. But it didn’t. In fact, the scan showed that everything was normal.
But I was still in a terrible dilemma. Just because the baby looked OK now, that did not mean it would be born healthy, nor that I could safely get through the pregnancy.
If it had been up to me alone, I would still have had an abortion. But now I had my in-laws to consider, and they were desperate for me to continue the pregnancy, convinced this was their only chance of becoming grandparents.
'I was scared I wasn’t a good enough mother, and felt guilty that I hadn’t wanted my baby'
I did understand how much it meant to them, but I also felt that it was all about the baby, and not about what was best for me. Nonetheless, I felt compelled to go along with their wishes and give my baby a chance.
My mother was terribly anxious. She didn’t pressurise me either way, but I know she would have been relieved, for my sake, if I had decided not to go ahead.
But Richard’s parents were thrilled. When I told Elizabeth that all was fine, and showed her the scan picture of my unborn son, her face lit up. She promised me I would never regret my decision.
True to her word, she could not have done more. She showered us with presents and bought all the things we’d need for the nursery — a wardrobe, the cot, a pram and baby clothes.
But even though her excitement was infectious, it was still a terribly difficult pregnancy. My seizures were exhausting, and I was scared of falling to the ground, knocking myself out and damaging the baby.
Harry was born 12 weeks premature by emergency Caesarean on September 2, 2007. I was in hospital having a 28-week scan when I had a four-minute seizure. Medical staff feared I was going into cardiac arrest and decided they had to get the baby out as soon as possible.
Harry weighed just 3lb. When I saw him later that day in the special care baby unit, barely the size of Richard’s fist, my heart went out to him.
But I didn’t feel the surge of love I’d expected. Perhaps it was the stressful pregnancy, or the traumatic birth, but I felt somehow detached. However, Elizabeth and Brian couldn’t have been happier. They rushed to the hospital as soon as he was born, and burst into tears as they watched their grandson in his incubator.
Harry was in hospital for ten weeks. His grandparents visited every single day. Of course, I went to see him, too, but I must admit I often felt I was going through the motions. I was afraid that if I didn’t visit, the nurses would think I was a terrible mother.
Back home, Elizabeth made a point of popping round to help out. I was grateful, but I still felt ambivalent about motherhood. I was scared I wasn’t a good enough mother, and felt guilty that I hadn’t wanted my baby.
And then my world collapsed. Harry was just four months old when I fell pregnant again. It was a total accident, and the last thing we wanted. This time, I was even more determined to have an abortion.
After all, I wasn’t just risking my own life by carrying on with a pregnancy, I was also risking leaving Harry without a mother.
Once again, I told Richard not to tell his parents, and arranged an abortion. I went to the clinic when I was nine weeks pregnant, leaving Harry with his grandparents and telling them I was going shopping.
However, once I’d gone to the clinic, Richard, who was at work, felt compelled to tell his parents the truth. I still don’t know why: perhaps he felt guilty, or maybe he was angry with me for some reason I don’t understand.
I returned to collect Harry to face a huge showdown with my heartbroken in-laws. Angry and disappointed, they questioned how I could consider depriving them of another grandchild when everything had worked out with Harry.
Harsh words were exchanged, and I was left feeling devastated. It was only as I was about to leave that I confessed that, actually, I’d not had the abortion after all.
I’d been booked in to take the so-called abortion pill, but the clinic decided that it was unsafe because of my epilepsy. I’d been told to come back the next day for a surgical procedure.
I was furious with Richard for having told them about my pregnancy, and the second we got home they rang, begging me to reconsider. I tried to explain how difficult it would be for me to cope with two babies, as well as my health issues, but they had an answer for everything. ‘We’ll do all we can to help,’ they promised. ‘Just please, please, let this baby live.’
It was hard to argue against them when they felt so passionately about being grandparents. They were so desperate and so determined to make me change my mind that I found myself weakening.
They absolutely adored Harry, and I didn’t have a scintilla of doubt that my next baby would be every bit as loved. Could I really deny them?
The next day, I rang the abortion clinic to cancel my appointment. My neurologist was very concerned, and my mother was frantic with worry.
'Against the odds, my two babies were normal and thriving. I should have been overjoyed — but I wasn’t'
But I’d made my decision: I was going to keep my child. I just felt too exhausted to fight back, and if this baby was so wanted, then I just had to grit my teeth and pray for a happy outcome.
Annabelle arrived ten weeks early on December 18, 2008, weighing just 4lb 1oz. Also born by emergency Caesarean, she was — like her brother — tiny but healthy.
Her grandparents were overjoyed. And so was Richard, who adored his little girl.
But I still lacked that instant bond which I felt all good mothers should have. Looking at her for the first time, I wondered miserably if I would have to pretend to love her.
Now I had two babies I’d never planned. Against the odds, they were normal and thriving. I should have been overjoyed — but I wasn’t.
Watching her grandparents cooing over her and cuddling her, I felt a mixture of envy and guilt. Why didn’t my babies feel so special to me when they were clearly so very special to their grandparents?
Elizabeth and Brian loved my children unconditionally, and right from the start my children loved them back. I longed to feel the same passion. It was only when Annabelle was nine months old and I took the decision to be sterilised that my mood began to lift.
I’d sit and watch my babies playing and feel quite overwhelmed by love for them. At night, when I tucked them into their cots, I’d marvel at how perfect they were, and how grateful I was to have them.
Watching my two blonde children toddle around the garden hand-in-hand, my heart would flip.
Little by little, I found myself instinctively doing all the things that their grandparents did so naturally. Seeing how close they were to the children helped me build up my own bond.
My own parents, too, have been wonderful, and my father especially has built up a very close bond with Harry. It’s not been an easy journey, but I know without a shadow of a doubt that I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I’ve never really told my in-laws how thankful I am that they stopped me from having not just one abortion but two. This may not be the life I expected or planned for myself — but being a mother is my proudest achievement.
Do grandparents have a right to voice their opinion on abortion? Until it happened to me, I’d have said no. Now I am just so glad that my children’s wonderful grandparents cared enough about their fate to change all our lives.
Read the comments here:
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/articl...orted.html