Here are two abortion stories. Both are mine. Both came with heartache and upheaval — and both prevented heartache and upheaval. One was an experience common to many abortion patients, but one that people often look on with disdain. The other was the sort that generally garners public sympathy. I wish they both did.
I had my first abortion one day after I turned 28. I was a single mom to a 5-year-old daughter. We lived in Washington, D.C., in a one-bedroom basement apartment. I was a recent law-school graduate, studying for the bar exam, living off a loan and small scholarship, and working a full-time unpaid internship hoping it might open doors to job opportunities. I knew I could not raise another child while being the mother I wanted to be for my daughter, or while pursuing the career I wanted in public service. It’s the kind of story that people tend to judge rather than champion.
My second abortion was this past November. This time I was married and happily and intentionally pregnant. The only surprise was that it was twins. Now, 37 years old, I had routine prenatal testing — which revealed that fetus B had Trisomy 18, a fatal fetal anomaly. I knew that continuing the unviable pregnancy of fetus B would have put fetus A, and me, at a high risk of serious complications, including miscarriage, stillbirth and preterm birth.
My husband and I were heartbroken. We knew there was only one way to protect fetus A and myself. But we live in Texas. And because of our state’s abortion ban, I had to travel to Colorado for abortion care. The Texas ban provides no exception for an abortion in the case of fatal fetal abnormalities — even for the purpose of protecting a second, healthy fetus.
My two abortions were a decade apart and different in so many ways. But my choice to have them hinged on the same innate desire to exercise the freedom to determine my future. Both allowed me to care for my children, protect my health and pursue my career in the ways I determined were best.
The circumstances of my second abortion are similar to those of many disturbing stories that have emerged since Roe v. Wade was overturned. Among those is that of Austin Dennard, an obstetrician/gynecologist, who at 11 weeks pregnant found out her fetus had a fatal anomaly. Dr. Dennard also had to leave Texas for an abortion. And there’s Nicole Miller, who was flown to Utah from Idaho, hemorrhaging and leaking amniotic fluid, after being denied an abortion necessary to save her life. Half of all states are now either hostile to abortion or have bans that often provide only vague and confusing exceptions for life-threatening situations. Many of those bans are without exceptions for rape, incest or fetal anomalies like mine.
The resulting high-profile cases have drawn a lot of warranted attention and compassion. My concern is that the public is not similarly sympathetic to the majority of pregnant people who make these decisions. Most abortions do not involve two fetuses, let alone a fatal condition. My abortion at 28 years old was just as important as the one I had at 37. Not being able to receive abortion care in either situation would have been detrimental to my life.
The dissenting justices in Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization, the Supreme Court decision that overturned Roe, warned of the draconian impacts of allowing states to ban abortion. Quoting the 1992 opinion in Planned Parenthood v. Casey, the landmark case that affirmed Roe’s central holding, they described overturning Roe as taking from women the ability “to participate equally in [this Nation’s] economic and social life.” Without abortion access protected by federal law, the dissenting justices wrote, women would “incur the cost of losing control of their lives.”
Now, so many women are incurring that cost. When I flew to Colorado for my second abortion, I was unknowingly in the company of dozens of other women, maybe even right there in the same airport, doing the exact same thing. The Guttmacher Institute estimates that in 2023 alone a staggering 34,200 pregnant women in Texas traveled out of state to receive an abortion. That means every single day, on average, almost 100 women left Texas to receive health care in another state. But, of course, not every woman who seeks an abortion can afford to leave. The expenses of travel, lost income, child care if needed, and other factors make out-of-state trips impossible, condemning those women to manage their own abortion or face the enormous consequences of a pregnancy.
Recent data underscore the grotesque outcomes of this prohibitively expensive travel forced on women by state law. For example, one study led by researchers at Johns Hopkins assessed the impacts of Texas’ 2021 ban on most abortions. The study found infant deaths in the state increased by 12.9 percent between 2021 and 2022 — the increase in the rest of the United States was only 1.8 percent. That suggests that hundreds of women in Texas who cannot leave for an abortion are being forced to birth babies only to watch them die.
Even more alarming, we now have reports of at least two deaths of mothers in Georgia linked to abortion bans. As ProPublica reported, in 2022 Amber Nicole Thurman was a single parent to a 6-year-old son living in Georgia. Just outside the six-week window for a legal abortion in her state, Ms. Thurman was forced to travel to North Carolina to receive care. Upon returning home, she experienced complications — but a local hospital delayed emergency care. She suffered from a severe infection and died. Had abortion not been banned in her state, she would almost certainly still be alive to parent her son.
Since Dobbs, there has been an ongoing national discussion about reproductive rights. As I watch the outpouring of public empathy for women who have had certain types of abortions, I wish the American public would recognize the humanity in all women who terminate a pregnancy. Especially when faced with new data and heartbreaking stories of preventable deaths reflecting the far-reaching consequences of Dobbs, it is critical that those who support women work to destigmatize abortion by underscoring how it constitutes normal, necessary health care and promoting full access to the fundamental right — and freedom — that Roe once protected.
The post Both My Abortions Were Necessary.
Only One Gets Sympathy. appeared first on New York Times.
