It's now official.

As of today, I can't legally abort my child in Michigan.

On April 23, my period didn't arrive, I had no PMS, and I knew I was pregnant. The next morning I confirmed with a test. His heart, though only two chambers, was beating.
I could have aborted.

On April 30, I saw my OB where she confirmed the pregnancy and drew blood to check how far along I was. We scheduled a preliminary ultrasound to check for a fetal pull.
I could have aborted.

On May 10, we all went in together. The tech found the tiny but growing white smudge. That was the awaited fetal pull. This 4.5 millimeter being in my womb had arm and leg buds, eye and nasal pits, and the somites that would mature into his spinal cord.
I could have aborted.

On June 8, I heard the tiny heart beating via doppler. The medical assistant had warned that it was on the early side to try but she succeeded. His heart was beating strongly enough to be heard at that point.
I could have aborted.

On August 6, we went for the "real" ultrasound. Louis waved the physical evidence of his masculinity at us with pride; we saw his fingers, toes, and face. The doc told us that despite my age, the pictures and my blood test results gave us a 1 in 15,000 chance of a Down syndrome child. Age gave us a 1 in 350.
I could have aborted.

Our other children have kept track of how big he is. "About as big as my hand now." Or "Maybe as big as your Beast doll." They have sat in my lap and felt him kick. They have been talking to him, singing to him, planning books to read to him for weeks.

Now it's official. We'll keep him.