It could happen again, and it could be my daughter, or yours, miscarrying at seventeen weeks, getting sicker by the hour, dying day by day, just like Savita.
Can you imagine yourself, grabbing every doctor you can find by the scruff of the neck? “For the love of Christ, save her.”
I can see myself pleading, begging, crying. Just the thought of that desperation is making me taste adrenaline in my mouth.
Perhaps, though, you have convinced yourself that the eighth amendment had nothing to do with Savita’s death. Perhaps Prof Sir Sabaratnam Arulkumaran, who chaired the HSE inquiry into Ms Halappanavar’s death, is wrong, and you are right.
But would you bet your daughter’s life on it?
On May 25th, I will vote in a school hall – the school where my twelve-year-old daughter goes – but I will imagine that the voting booth is in that hospital corridor, sometime in the future, and I have the choice to untie her doctor’s hands, to end the madness of equating her life, in that moment, with the heartbeat of her miscarrying fetus.
You might accuse me of having an over-active imagination. I will admit that I have a good imagination, and yet, what I cannot imagine, what I cannot fathom, is any father, any husband, any man who has ever loved a woman who is pregnant, in that dire situation, voting to retain the eighth amendment.