Think what you want, I only know what a) three doctors to date have told me, b) what my body tells me, and c) what I know about my mental and emotional state. Between all three of those reasons CLEARLY making it known that I likely cannot survive carrying a child to term, NO, I'm damned well not keeping it.

Yes, there IS the possibility it would be healthy and I would survive... that I wouldn't have either serious internal ruptures, damaging hormone fluxations, a rapidly-festering ovary, kidney problems compounded by the extra weight, extra pressure, and changes in digestion and hormones and mineral balance... that I wouldn't end up having an emotional/mental breakdown if it DID survive because I can't keep it, can't take care of it, can't be a good mother, and swore to myself a LONG time ago that I would never give another child into a stranger's arms... that it wouldn't die due to the complications that have caused assorted miscarriages and had one doctor tell me that if I tried to give birth, it would be murder... yeah, it's POSSIBLE somehow it would work out.

But you know what? I don't want to risk it. I don't want to risk its life, my life, my sanity, the sanity and safety of my boys, just because someone else thinks babies are cool.

Fuck off.

This is something I feel very strongly on: it is MY body. ~I~ am the one who has talked to doctors over and over again, ~I~ am the one in pain often enough and hard enough to make me pass out now that the pregnancy is advancing, ~I~ am the one who will be living with my decision or if I make the wrong one, NOT LIVING AT ALL... You, and by 'you' I mean f'ing ANYONE who thinks they have a right to any part in this decision short of the father (who agrees with my choice, by the way), have NO say, NO reason to stick your nose into my business and my body, and NO call to criticize me for not wanting to die, not wanting to condemn a child to slow death or worse, a few months of life on an incubator followed by a painful but fairly quick death, not wanting to hurt myself or my boys by doing something I ~know~ is more likely to harm me than skydiving, or swimming in shark-infested waters, or selling m'self on the street for spare change.

You don't like my choices? Good for you. You wouldn't choose them if it were up to you? Cool. Go get yourself in a similar situation, where you have to choose between a quick and clean surgical procedure or months of agony followed by near-certain death for at least one person, possibly two, and anguish for at least three others.

You get yourself in that, and tell me that you'd rather EVERYONE suffered than you took care of it in the most humane, painless, quick, effective way possible.

And until you HAVE BEEN or ARE in that situation... no, I don't really want your advice, or your scoldings, or your tears, or much of anything else.

My body. Keep your grubby mitts and your grubbier morals off of it. I'll stick to my own, thank you.

I like this life, most of the time. I have NO intention of leaving it yet.

Oh, and did I mention, FUCK OFF?