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OOne morning a few years ago I was in a clinic in Brighton, making an appointment about an upcoming abortion. One strange winter, my second away from home, I was brittle and irritated with adult life. And I was confused when, suddenly, the woman turned the ultrasound screen around and asked me to watch the heartbeat. The clinic window looked out to sea, near a nightclub where I worked the door, and I remember seeing her, then out the window, then at the screen, where her finger hung with a black image for what seemed like several minutes. . I was confused then, shocked later, horrified today.
I was reminded of that day twice recently: first when I heard about an anti-abortion charity in Scotland offering ultrasound scans to women considering termination, and then again when I read about a recent case in America. A teenager asking a judge for an abortion was asked to have an ultrasound because (as the judge said), “If the intended mother is shown the ultrasound, she will change her mind.” By humanizing the fetus they try to psychologically force the woman to go through with a pregnancy she knows she shouldn’t have.
Since then I’ve had plenty of ultrasounds, including weekly scans when there were concerns about the little baby I was carrying and years later to confirm a miscarriage, and some in the weeks leading up to the lockdown birth. Each time, I’ve been aware of the same strange tension and vulnerability, as a stranger sees something in your body that you don’t know how to see.
There is a definite secret to the ultrasound experience. There is no evidence that anything has changed in early pregnancy – life goes on, you don’t tell anyone, you look for blood. So the fact that it is now possible to witness with your own eyes, some proof of the future, is attractive to those who want a child. That’s why it’s no surprise that private scanning businesses are on the rise. In a 2017 survey of 2,000 pregnant women, a third had paid for a private scan during pregnancy, with 36% citing concern. This BMJ It is reported that in recent years Topshops have appeared on more than 250 UK high streets, replacing Burtons.
The NHS usually offers two scans at 12 and 20 weeks, but “souvenir scanning” caters to women who want extra reassurance, charging up to £250 for things like “Doppler scanning”, which simulates fetal heartbeats. is Some offer teddy bears implanted with your baby’s heartbeat, which I find distinctly cursed. But unlike the NHS, staff are not required to be qualified in obstetric ultrasonography.
Loopholes mean they are largely unregulated, and inaccurate interpretations can give women false reassurance or increase anxiety. The ferret There was a report of a woman who was advised she had lost her pregnancy, only to be later told by an NHS clinic that she was progressing normally. Two weeks ago a couple in Cheshire became the first people in the UK to be found guilty of running a “black market” baby scan clinic, Precious Glimpse, which put patients at “terrible risk” during the pandemic.
There’s a lot of money to be made from maternity anxiety, because soon-to-be parents have little to hold on to, and so much can go wrong. At one end of the market you have gadgets, like “kick trackers” or obnoxious little headphones to stick to your belly so the fetus listens to classical music and gets smarter. On the other hand, you have this scan, which is often used by women who have had miscarriages in the past and are willing to pay for reassurance. It’s amazing that this technology is available – it’s always an amazing, powerful experience. But with that power comes responsibility.
Most private scans will no doubt end up with a jolly keyring or a ghostly teddy, while there are others that end in question marks. Without proper training, the person performing the ultrasound has the potential to cause real harm. And if that technology is used by someone who has brought their narcissistic politics into a room, a room where a vulnerable woman has gone to seek help to terminate a pregnancy, they have the power to shame or intimidate them into changing their mind.
When I was at that Brighton clinic, I felt awkward for the woman showing me the screen. In fact, mourned for him. I thought she would be embarrassed when I reminded her why I was there, but no. She wasn’t. And while the experience didn’t make me think twice about getting an abortion—it was an easy decision, I didn’t need to get pregnant—it came back to haunt me years later when I had a baby. It upset me, the way she pushed the mental thread between that procedure and the desired pregnancy. Those ghost pictures went down differently. But it did not bring shame; In fact the opposite. It has made me more aware of the importance of ensuring that women’s decisions around pregnancy are protected, and this is not exploited for profit or politics in increasingly insidious ways.
Email Eva at e.wiseman@observer.co.uk or follow her on Twitter @EvaWiseman
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