No divine intervention on this day

I keep wanting to write but the words just won’t come. I cried so many tears before my husband and I finally decided that a termination was the best option for us. I’ve never felt so torn in my whole life, never so sad and I’ve felt like I would never breath again. 
I realise that me detailing my experience here will get mixed responses. Please don’t read if it’s too upsetting. I on the other hand need to get this it on paper. I realise there will be those who will judge me. Believe me you can’t be any harder with your judgments that I already am on myself nor will anyone truly understand this unless your faced with this decision. I truly hope none of you will ever be. 
The cvs test came back positive for Down syndrome. My obstetrician said ‘well we expected this didn’t we but I know it doesn’t make it any easier.’ Yes I know we expected the results to confirm but there’s less air in my lungs all of a sudden, now that my last glimmer of hope for you has gone little one. I held that last bit of hope that you might only have mosaicism or that the test be inconclusive, or that I was the carrier and that you didn’t, you had been spared but sadly none of these I can cling onto anymore. My positive thinking is getting me nowhere. 
I’ve poured over many an article the past few days trying to understand this situation but there is no understanding. Shit things happen to good people all the time. I can live with that reality but you shouldn’t have to my little one. 
On the way to the hospital my husband and I were pulled over by the police to be breath tested which was fine as he hadn’t been drinking. He is currently driving unlicensed (long story) and I started to think that maybe we won’t be able to get to the hospital after all. Maybe this is a sign. There was to be no divine intervention on this day. 
I walked into that hospital, the same one in which I had given birth to my daughter 4 years earlier and so many emotions rose. I was being prepped and recovering in the maternity section and I heard baby’s crying as I walked down the corridor and I had to steel my heart. Stop it from falling to the ground. The staff were lovely and understanding and I felt cared for. My husband was quiet. The room was the same as the room I stayed in for a week after I had my daughter. I hadn’t shed any tears this day yet. I knew if I did they wouldn’t stop. I felt them sitting heavy on my chest. 
The nurse gave me medication to dilate my cervix and then I just had to wait for it to take effect. I was prepped and wheeled into a little room where they give you the cannula. I distracted myself as much as I could. I counted every ceiling tile, i noticed every detail of that room. I couldn’t think about my baby, about me and what was about to happen. I pushed those tears threatening to boil over down somewhere deep in me. My obstetrician came in and patted my shoulder and every cell in my body screamed for escape from this reality. 
They wheeled me into theatre and I looked around into this sterile environment. The anaesthetist gave me the injection and said ‘you’ve got 30 secs.’ I had thought beforehand of praying for you in those moments but all i could muster was ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again and then my world turned to black. Everything did.