When Adriana Smith, a 30-year-old mother and registered nurse at Emory University Hospital, started getting intense headaches in early February, she did what any health professional would—she sought help. At nearly nine weeks pregnant, she went to Northside Hospital. Her mother, April Newkirk, says she was given medication and sent home. No tests. No overnight monitoring.
The next morning, everything changed.
Smith’s boyfriend woke to the sound of her gasping for air—noises he now believes were the result of a massive medical emergency unfolding while she slept. He called 911, and Smith was rushed to Emory Decatur Hospital before being transferred to Emory University Hospital, where she worked.
A CT scan revealed multiple blood clots in her brain. Her condition deteriorated quickly. Doctors asked her mother for permission to perform a procedure to relieve the pressure, but it was already too late. Adriana was declared brain dead.
That was over three months ago.
Since then, her family—including her young son—has been keeping vigil at her bedside. “He still thinks she’s just sleeping,” Newkirk says. “It’s torture for me. I see my daughter breathing, but she’s not there.”
Adriana is now 21 weeks pregnant. According to her doctors, the plan is to keep her on life support until the baby reaches at least 32 weeks gestation—when the fetus might be able to survive outside the womb. She was recently moved to Emory Midtown, which has more advanced obstetric care.
But that decision—keeping her on life support—isn’t one her family made. In fact, they weren’t given a choice.
Under Georgia’s “heartbeat” law, abortions are banned once cardiac activity is detected, typically around six weeks. The law makes exceptions for rape, incest, or if the mother’s life is at risk. But Adriana is legally brain dead—no longer considered a patient in danger. That distinction changes everything.
Her medical team told the family they are required to maintain life support until the fetus is viable, no matter the family’s wishes or the baby’s prognosis.
“In any other state, we might have had a say,” Newkirk says. “Maybe we wouldn’t have ended the pregnancy. But we weren’t even given that option. That choice was taken from us.”
Doctors have warned the family that the baby has fluid on the brain—a potentially serious complication. But without more tests and time, they can’t say how much fluid there is, or what it might mean.
“He could be blind. He might not walk. He might not survive,” Newkirk says quietly. “And we’re the ones who will raise him.”
While the family waits, costs continue to mount. Smith’s body remains on life support with round-the-clock care in the ICU—interventions that could continue for several more weeks. All the while, her son waits at home, hoping his mom will wake up.
“They’re trying to get the baby to 32 weeks,” Newkirk says. “But every day is more trauma, more questions, more costs.”
What’s hardest for the family isn’t just the uncertainty—it’s the feeling of powerlessness. In other states, the decision would likely fall to the mother’s previously expressed wishes or to her next of kin. Medical ethics guidelines in many places would allow for terminating a pregnancy if the mother is brain dead and viability is in question.
But Georgia law doesn’t make that distinction.
“This shouldn’t be happening,” Newkirk says. “Every woman should have the right to make these decisions. And if she can’t, then her family should.”
For now, Adriana’s family is caught in a tragic holding pattern—waiting for a baby whose future is uncertain, grieving a daughter who is already gone, and speaking out in hopes that no other family has to endure the same fate.
“This law took away our choice,” Newkirk says. “And that’s something we’ll live with forever.”
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