You're the Only One I've Told: The Stories Behind Abortion

by Meera Shah

“The second one, well, the second one was when I already had two children. My husband had no idea. He still has no idea.”

Storytelling creates emotional connections between people. By sharing the nuances of culture, history, and values, people and ideas are united through their stories. Even if an individual can’t identify with another’s exact experience, there is usually some component of the story, even as small as the fleeting, universal emotions of fear or happiness, that can be shared and appreciated.

In fact, I believe we need to move past this notion that a decision to have an abortion should be left to the “patient and their doctor.” I give my patients the most information I can provide and support them in whatever they decide. I don’t decide with or for them.

Should someone be called brave for doing what they felt was best for them? I don’t think so. But we can say that someone is brave to choose themselves when often societal and familial actors actively try to take away their reproductive autonomy. When someone chooses the health care they need despite the backlash they may face, yes, that’s brave.

The decision to have an abortion doesn’t always stem from trauma or turmoil either; sometimes it’s easy and simple.

I reminded these residents that just because someone continues their pregnancy does not mean that it’s not fraught with trauma, poverty, abuse, missed educational or career opportunities, violence, or food scarcity.

My grandmother did the best she could with her children (two of her seven children died within the first year of life), but she and my grandfather did not have much money and the entire family lived in a one bedroom flat in India. We don’t know if she was able to plan her family the way she wanted to. We don’t know if she wanted to work or to go to school. We don’t know if there was any coercion or abuse going on. And we don’t know if she had any access to contraception. We just can’t assume things about people we don’t know much about.

Denying someone an abortion to make a statement about morality is ignoring the root cause of the issue.

Abortion is very common. Not understanding how common it is has contributed to the belief that it is shameful and rare.

Abortion will always be accessible for affluent people, white people—even conservative ones—and those publicly fighting against abortion access.

The term “reproductive justice” was coined in 1994 by twelve Black women and defined as the human right to have children, to not have children, and to parent the children they have in a safe and sustainable environment. In 2007, this theory was expanded by these same women to include the right to sexual pleasure.

North Carolina had an official Eugenics Board that facilitated the forced sterilization of over seventy-six thousand people, primarily low-income Black women. The board remained in operation until 1977. Forced sterilization is a very recent and dark part of US history.

Protestors outside one of my health centers carry signs that say STOP BLACK GENOCIDE. This is a gross attempt at getting Black people to view abortion as an attack by white people on Black people. Disguised as a way to protect Black people, this tactic actually does the opposite.

Simply put, the zip code in which you live determines the type of health care coverage you receive.

What we have to remember, though, is that Roe is really the floor, not the ceiling, of access.

Politicians who have said that abortion should be “safe, legal and rare” are wrong about it being rare. Saying that abortion should be rare is dangerous and worsens stigma.

The law in Texas required that Sara first have an ultrasound, regardless of medical necessity. She was also forced to listen to a detailed description of the ultrasound (she was about six weeks pregnant and there was cardiac activity),

this is just so fucked

Even though Sara was ready to have the procedure that day, she wasn’t allowed to. She had to leave and return at least twenty-four hours later. The only purpose for waiting was that the state wanted her to “think about her decision” in hopes she would change her mind. As if she hadn’t been thinking about it for weeks already.

Involving parents in the decision to opt in or opt out of sex education in schools is just another roadblock in the way of ensuring that young people have all the tools they need to make informed decisions about their bodies and their sexuality.

The reality is that parental consent does not always translate to parental support.

Years later, Rose would learn that prior to finding faith, her mother had had an abortion herself. Now Rose can see that perhaps her mother was projecting her own guilt onto her daughter. But instead of taking the stance of forgiveness, what her mother was really after was repentance. What could have been a moment of shared experience, a chance for Imani and Rose to connect, instead drove a wedge between them.

Patients should not have to teach their providers how to take care of them; providers should understand the needs of the communities they are caring for.

“When your first one is a loss, you know how to bury a baby, but you don’t necessarily know how to welcome one.”

She had to decide whether or not to continue the pregnancy. What kind of mother would she be if she ended the pregnancy? What kind of mother would she be if she didn’t?

Alabama has a law in place that requires the products of conception (pregnancy tissue) for every abortion be sent to a pathology lab to confirm that abortion is complete. This is not medically necessary and imposes an unnecessary financial and operational burden to the health center.

As a woman, Mary said, you’re often faced with a simple, paradoxical question: Is my maximum potential in working, or is it in being a mom?

There is no other medical procedure that requires a doctor to read a propaganda-based script that has been written by politicians. It challenges the trust that doctors must establish with their patients.

A partner’s role in an abortion is sometimes not clear to them. Are they allowed to say what they want? Or is it always up to the one carrying the pregnancy? Is the partner supposed to just relinquish all decision-making power? What if one wants to continue the pregnancy and the other isn’t ready to parent because they want to finish school or work toward that promotion in their career?

her choice

It is a sad and troubling fact that those who can’t get pregnant often decide the rights of those who can.

According to the Journal of Sex Research, “In the United States, responsibility for preventing pregnancy in heterosexual relationships disproportionately falls on women,” who then carry the weight of its physical, financial, and emotional obligations.

Deciding on a method, dealing with side effects, stressing about a missed dose, taking emergency contraception, picking up refills on time—these are burdens society has placed on those who can carry a pregnancy. And if this idea is reinforced in the exam room, how will men ever feel like they play a role in or share responsibility for unintended pregnancy?

Why does it feel like women and pregnant people are on one side and men are on the other? “When you’re not used to that kind of powerlessness, it can make you feel crazy. It feels like it’s all about conquest and war and acquisition and property and that’s why I think men freak out when all of a sudden they’re being relegated to a spectator on this issue.

Women carry a biological burden of fertility that men will never have, and so women should have more reproductive autonomy.

Planned Parenthood created an acronym model called FRIES to help clarify consent:

Judaism has a word for this, nefesh in Hebrew, which means “someone who is a full-fledged being.” Many sources, including the creation story in which God breathed life into Adam in order to make him a person, support the idea that the status of person-hood begins at the “first breath.”

Many people don’t know they are pregnant until about six or seven weeks, which makes these recent six-week abortion bans—which try to make abortion after six weeks illegal—completely ridiculous and unrealistic.

Telling people they are earlier than they really are in their pregnancy is a way for antiabortion people to convince patients they have time to wait, often until their options to obtain a legal abortion narrow.

In fact, there are about four thousand fake health centers compared to the 780 real providers of abortion care.5 That means that for every one health center that provides abortion care, there are five fake clinics.

She handed me a card with a phone number on it to call. I didn’t understand why she couldn’t answer my question—it seemed fairly straightforward. I took the card and went back to my car to call. A young woman picked up and I asked my question again. I asked her specifically if they had any resources to get support with childcare, diapers, formula, or clothes for a newborn. She told me that she didn’t know of any resources but that they had counselors and pregnancy centers who could provide ultrasounds for a pregnant woman. Disappointed, I hung up the phone. This organization was antiabortion but not pro-life.