On the 9th October 2026, my beautiful daughter was born sleeping at 33 weeks and 5 days, following the most heartbreaking decision of our lives termination for medical reasons (TFMR).
Until 31 weeks, we believed we were bringing home a healthy little girl. We’d had our 20-week scan and numerous growth scans throughout my pregnancy. Although a few things had been picked up along the way, nothing prepared us for what was coming.
At 31 weeks, a routine scan identified excess fluid in my daughter’s brain. We were referred to fetal medicine, and within days our entire world fell apart.
Further scans and an MRI revealed multiple severe abnormalities in her brain. Parts of her brain hadn’t developed properly, and other structures appeared abnormal or underdeveloped. After a multidisciplinary meeting involving fetal medicine specialists, neurologists and geneticists, we were told that our daughter’s prognosis was devastating.
We were advised that she would likely have profound disabilities, potentially never being able to walk, talk, use her hands, eat independently or even breathe without support. We were also told she was extremely likely to experience severe seizures.
There was no treatment that could correct the abnormalities in her developing brain.
We were faced with a decision that no parent should ever have to make. We could continue the pregnancy, knowing the suffering our daughter was likely to face, or we could choose to prevent that suffering before it began.
We chose TFMR.
At 33 weeks, I underwent the procedure to stop my daughter’s heartbeat, followed by a C-section. I then held my beautiful little girl in my arms, knowing I would never get to take her home.
It’s now been just over two weeks, and I am completely broken. I miss her more than words could ever explain. I question everything, replay every conversation and wonder whether we made the right decision, despite knowing what the specialists told us.
One of the hardest parts is that we don’t have a confirmed genetic diagnosis yet. A tubulinopathy was suspected, but we’re still waiting for genetic testing. Living with that uncertainty makes the grief even harder.
I never imagined that at 33 weeks pregnant, after feeling my daughter kicking, watching my bump grow and preparing for her arrival, I would be planning her funeral instead.
I know TFMR is something people have strong opinions about, but I hope anyone reading this understands that these decisions are not made lightly. My daughter was desperately wanted, deeply loved and will be missed for the rest of my life.
I didn’t make this decision because I didn’t want a disabled child. I made it because I was told my daughter’s brain was so severely affected that she was likely to experience profound limitations and significant suffering. As her mother, I wanted to protect her from that.
I’m sharing our story because I feel incredibly alone, particularly having gone through this so late in pregnancy.
I’d really love to hear from other parents who have experienced third-trimester TFMR, especially following severe brain abnormalities. How did you cope with the guilt, the doubt and the endless what-ifs?
My daughter was here. She mattered. She was loved beyond words, and I will love her forever.