Patient Advocate Exposes Dangerous Consequences Of GOP’s Abortion Ban In Powerful Testimony

My first pregnancy was fairly textbook, so when I started trying again for a second baby, never in my wildest dreams did I think it would bring me here. I found out I was pregnant with my second pregnancy in July of 2021. All of my prenatal appointments had been fine. I went in to my end of first trimester scan with no concerns, and I left with a referral to a specialist. At that appointment, we found out that our baby had a lethal genetic diagnosis affecting bone development. Soon, my baby's bones would begin to break in utero, even at the slightest movement, like bending down to pick up my then three-year-old son. At birth, his ribcage would be too small to support lung function, and we were told that he would suffocate at his first breath without extreme medical intervention. That diagnosis came 25 days after Texas's SB-8 went into effect. Because of that timing, my doctor was silenced. SB-8 turned every Texan into a potential bounty hunter. any private citizen could sue anyone who aided and abetted an abortion that resulted in an appointment where i was told that my baby was going to die and my doctor could not give me the dignity of explaining all of my options we could talk about my right as a mother to not put my baby on life support after birth but we couldn't talk about removing the only life support my baby had ever known my body at the end of the appointment i was handed a printout of my medical records, and I was advised to seek a second opinion, but outside of Texas. As a grieving mother, instead of being able to focus on processing the loss of the future that I had been dreaming of from the minute the test turned positive, I was on my bathroom floor, catching my breath between crying and throwing up, Googling clinics. My husband went to buy a printer so we could print and scan waiting period consent forms from home because we were too afraid to use a public printer. Ten days later, I had the privilege to board a plane. I walked past protesters at the clinic who called me a murderer, and I said goodbye to my baby in a room alone with a nurse and a doctor that I had just met that morning. A few days later, I flew home, making sure to get up frequently enough to avoid blood clots and hoping a super maxi pad would be enough to prevent me from bleeding on the seat. My husband and I were grieving, but we desperately wanted to grow our family. A few months later, I was pregnant again, but my third and fourth pregnancies ended in miscarriage. Nine weeks into my third pregnancy, after clinging to the denial and bleeding at home for five days, I finally went to the OB to confirm that I was losing this baby too. After finding no heartbeat, my doctor confirmed that I needed medication, the same medication that is used in medical abortions. My prescription was challenged, and I was treated like an addict looking for drugs instead of a mother losing her child. I was finally able to obtain the medication I needed through an online pharmacy and took it a few days later. My husband and I then chose IVF. We started injections the September after Dobbs was decided. And in case IVF wasn't stressful enough, every appointment ended with my doctor and I deciding if she felt comfortable proceeding as she navigated the growing uncertainty around how IVF intersects with abortion restrictions. 11 months later, we finally welcomed our second child, the result of my fourth pregnancy in less than two years. As I lay there holding my baby on my chest, my doctor informed me that my placenta was not delivering. I needed a D&C, a procedure used to clear tissue from the uterus, and yes, it is also used in abortions, and I needed it quickly. Fifty minutes after my daughter's birth, I started violently throwing up and shaking, still in the delivery room waiting to go to the OR. When they finally took me back, I remember rushing and shouting. I lost consciousness as I went into hemorrhagic shock. My records indicate that we were finally able to start my procedure one hour and 59 minutes after my daughter's birth. When I woke up, I had lost half of my blood and I was told that I'm lucky I still had my uterus. Instead of spending my daughter's first night in the world with her, I was in an ICU bed while a nurse cared for my baby three floors away. After attempting to get answers on what had gone wrong, a hospital social worker listened to my account. When I got to the part about the DNC, she interrupted and plainly stated, well, we don't do those procedures anymore. That one sentence said everything. This delay wasn't chaos. It was policy. You do not know the health care you need until you need it. You can be against abortion for yourself. You can never choose it. But you cannot restrict access to a category of medical care without consequences that reach every pregnant person in this country. Restricting health care often means that the medication and equipment isn't readily available or needs administrative approval, delaying care with deadly or life-altering impacts. Reproductive health care is a continuum, and the government should not be able to decide what parts of that care you can access. When politicians get to decide what health care is moral and immoral, every woman you have ever loved is put at risk. These state's bans are forcing unimaginable pain and pushing hundreds of thousands of women into impossible situations they never saw coming. Trust me, I never saw it either.