The employee assigned to take note of medical history reassured the woman, “We never had that for ages” (a seeming admission that a baby did survive abortion at the clinic at least once) but that should “it” “survive this,” “They would still have to put it in like a jar, a container, with solution, and send it to the lab. . . . We don’t just throw it out in the garbage.”
Oh, and this innocuous-sounding “solution” was, of course, a toxic substance suitable for killing an infant.
“Like, what if it was twitching?” asked the pregnant woman.
“The solution will make it stop,” said the clinic employee. “That’s the whole purpose of the solution . . . It will automatically stop. It won’t be able to breathe anymore.”
As for any qualms a woman might have about seeing her newborn child being poisoned and drowned in a jar, the employee advised her “patient” not to worry: She’d be under sedation, and the murder would take place in another room anyway.
The employee said, humorously, that “the doctor” is “not gonna wake you up and be like, ‘Hey, excuse me, you have—’ ”
The sentence was left unfinished, too unthinkable even for a euphemism. There’s no polite way to say, “You have just given birth, but we will murder the child.”
