If you are in the DC area, there will be a vigil to honor the life of Dr.George Tiller from 6:30pm at the White House (LaFayettePark side) on Monday, June 1st. We will honor Dr Tiller and all that he has done providing safe, legal abortion for thousands of women. Bring a candle with you and any words you would like to share.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Dr. George Tiller, 1941 - 2009
your regularly-scheduled blogger is on emotional hiatus
it's times like this when i get really inarticulate and all i can think of to say is FUCK YOU, ASSHOLES.
Friday, May 29, 2009
The documentarian is an abortioneer
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Perspective
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
To Our Googlers, Wherever You Are
why it's ok to have an abortion
tell me it's ok to have an abortion
how do you live after an abortion
how do you live with yourself after an abortion
how to live with yourself after an abortion
happy with abortion choice
happy abortion
These are some of the search terms that have led the Google-using public to our humble blog. Whoever you are, I will tell you: it's ok to have an abortion. I also want to tell you that you're not alone. In the US, 35% of women have an abortion by the age of 45 -- that's one in three women. Odds are, you know several women who have sought abortion care. And here are some strategies to, as you put it, live with yourself after an abortion:
- Talk to someone about the abortion, and about how you feel about it. It could be a friend or family member who you know will be emotionally supportive, or it could be a counselor or therapist that you see on a regular basis, or it could be a total stranger at Exhale, an after-abortion counselling hotline.
- Spend time with people who are good for you, even if you choose not to share your abortion experience with them. One of the biggest factors in a woman's wellbeing after an abortion is the acceptance and love of people around her -- not specifically about the abortion, but in general.
- Cope with the problems in your life. The other big factor in a woman's wellbeing after an abortion: her wellbeing before the abortion. If you were in a tough situation before your abortion, try to reach out to people or organizations that can help you. Other than Exhale, the referrals I give most often in my work are the Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network's online hotline or a local rape crisis center, Medicaid/Health Department contact info, and the National Domestic Violence Hotline. Additional useful links: suicide help hotlines, coping with job loss, substance abuse help.
- Read about other women's experiences with abortion. There are only a handful of whole blogs out there by women going through an abortion -- perhaps because once it's over, there's naturally less to write about. This one is about the first-trimester medication procedure, this one is about the first-trimester surgical procedure, and this one is about the second-trimester surgical procedure. There's also this blog post, and the great comments, contributed by readers of Feministing, and this one at RHRealityCheck. You can also read other women's stories or share your own at Project Voice, I'm Not Sorry, or Women On Waves's I Had An Abortion. There is also a documentary called "I Had An Abortion" (not related to Women On Waves).
And if you are reading this and not worried about how you will live with yourself after an abortion -- what can you do for the women who are, who may have found our blog in a time of crisis, and for all the women who will have abortions soon and forever? Here are a couple of ideas, one for right now and one for every day:
- Donate to Exhale so they can expand their resources for women seeking to share after an abortion. They are trying to do some unprecedented work that would be a real leap forward in the existence of a bit of community for women who want to talk to one another instead of write and read blog posts or call a counselor.
- Combat the stigma against abortion. Another major cause of feeling like shit after an abortion: being told you should feel like shit about your abortion. Watch your words when speaking about reproductive choices -- are you judging harshly or being callous or assuming too much? -- because you never know what impact they might have on a pregnant woman or her partner or parent or friend who happens to be in your company.
And to whoever got here by Googling "fist in uteras" [sic]: WTF?
Monday, May 25, 2009
Controlling Our Destiny
Women need to be able to control our destiny. When we cannot control our own reproductive abilities we lose the ability to control our lives. Our dreams are turned into someone else’s vision. Is it even worth living if you cannot control your destiny?
Most women in the world accept that bearing children is a part, or maybe the end, of their destiny. This is not optional, they will get pregnant and have babies. For lots of women they will get married. They will spend their life caring for others. Maybe they will have the ability to pursue work outside of the home or education. Maybe they will not have a choice about working nonstop because they have to feed their children. Most women accept that they will not control their destiny, it will happen to them and they will cope with in the best way they know how.
Suicide has been on my mind. At least 3 of my patients recently threatened to or eluded to taking their own life because of their inability to control their own destiny. Many of them make it clear the thought has crossed her mind in one way or another. I can give them a number to a suicide hotline but I’m not equipped emotionally or professionally to counsel them through these kind of thoughts. Many times a woman has suggested or even insisted she will just do the abortion herself, most often because of money. My response is, “ma’am, that is very dangerous and you would be risking your life." Oftentimes a woman’s response might be something like “well, that sounds like the next best option, there is no point in living any more.”
One person could not get enough money for her first trimester procedure and she spoke to me while at work with factory machines banging in the background. She continuously called and when it became real that there just wasn’t anything more I could do for her financially, she yelled “I guess I’ll just jump off a bridge” and hung up the phone on me. I tried to reach her but never could. She didn’t jump off a bridge but maybe another child at this point feels like death.
Safe abortion is a choice, but beyond that it is a necessity. Women must be able to control our destinies. When women do not have the ability to seek safe abortions, they will often find a way to do it anyway. They will risk their lives to control their destiny. At the very least their bodies and souls will be scarred, and at the worst their children will be left motherless.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
World War, Never-Enough
Lest we remind ourselves why abortion is a vital occurrence in every society 'til Kingdom come:
Note to reader: Guttmacher conducts sound research and is therefore single-source-worthy for the purpose of this blog
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
The Dream Keeper
It is an incredibly strange thing to attend the annual conference for your former employer—an otherwise hostile work environment, trickling from the top to the bottom in strict linear detachment and communication via barking—and learn that the pain and dysfunction that seem to be crippling beloved abortion mavens, bohemian warrior doctors, women who abort, society at large, above all else—you, some of the ones you love most—that creeping feeling inside, that perpetual illness is *secondary* trauma seeping in.
You are choosing to work in a tornado because general consensus refuses to see how you see yourself hoeing in a garden.
So what: public opinion says support for abortion is on the decline in this country. I have never met a patient or man involved or mother, father, sister, brother, grandma, grandpa, aunt, cousin, friend, daughter, son, spiritual counselor or protestor who couldn’t get to a place where they accepted the humanity in their own abortion experience.
Commitment
Commit?
Now, let alone the existential contradiction that having an abortion would somehow yield an unhealthy child, the promotion of pregnancy as a commitment is a little hard to swallow. Commit to 40 weeks? This just comes so naturally from this beaming mother's mouth, as though there were something intrinsically healthful about having babies. We all know that abortions are safer than childbirth, and we all know that pregnancy wreaks havoc on a woman's body (fewer know that sociologists actually consider pregnancy a state of physical and psychological crisis for the woman; true story!). But the implication here is that women who have abortions can't commit: they're quitters. The mayor of my great city is telling women who don't carry to term that they're both unhealthy and suffering from commitment anxiety. Say what?!?!
Since when did pregnancy become a physical conquest and not a joyous experience for a woman? It's like a workout or diet program. You have to persevere! You have to be strong! You have to commit! So I guess all these pregnant women, irrespective of social and economic factors, just have to keep on truckin', because pregnancy is a commitment and what doesn't kill you just makes you stronger (not to mention healthier!). I guess they just commit to those 40 weeks and one fine day they push out this little life, and whatever happens beyond this point is irrelevant because she made it to the finish line. She followed through with her "commitment", and isn't she so proud, so fulfilled? She carried to term!
Now what?
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Ambivalence
Ambivalence is hard. How many times have we all counseled someone who was ambivalent about her abortion decision? A lot of counselors I know get nervous when a woman shows up on the day of her abortion, when they're counseling several other people the same day, only to talk to someone who just-isn't-sure. The client can see the pros and cons of both having the abortion/not having the abortion. These aren't your average counseling sessions. This isn't to say each counseling session isn't unique; however, when you counsel several women a day, you do develop a 'spiel' which you become comfortable with, say, when describing the abortion procedure. Ambivalence, though, is a spiel-zero zone. They're just not going to work.
I'm generally uncomfortable with ambivalence in my own life, so I guess it makes sense that when I'm counseling someone unsure about her decision on the day of her abortion causes me to slow down. Pause. But recently, I've grown to have more understanding and compassion for those who are ambivalent. I've been ambivalent about quite a lot, just not sure what to do, waiting for my circumstances to provide an answer for me, rather than me providing the answer for me.
Maybe ambivalence keeps us safe for a bit. We're fluid and can easily move between decisions. We're in the middle place. On the fence. When a partner smiles lovingly and gives our child a big hug, we stop for a moment and think, "Maybe I can stick with this relationship a bit longer. Maybe he'll be a good dad after all." The next day, when our partner gives us the cold shoulder, says cruel things, dismisses us, we quickly change and think, "I don't know about this. Maybe abortion really is the best decision. Look at him. If he doesn't love me, how can he possibly love a new baby?" Our views shift with the wind, with our ever-changing circumstances, hoping to find an answer - any definitive answer - to our question, "What the hell am I supposed to do?" You just want someone to give you an answer. Tell you what the best thing is to do. Especially when you're just plain 'ol tired.
Tired of everything. Tired of trying to scrape every penny together to pay the bills. Tired of the kids being sick, of getting into trouble. Tired of trying to keep it all together. Tired of calling the clinic and getting directions/getting childcare/rescheduling appointment because "he" got his act together just long enough to make you think it will all be okay. The problem is, none of us know if it's going to be okay and we can't predict the outcome of our lives. All we can do is show up, be present, speak our truth, and let go of the outcome. (Apparently these are called the four truths. I'm sure there's more than four, though.)
Today something will shift in me. When a woman tells me her story, explains to me why she's having her abortion (though I don't need to know why and I don't need an explanation because I trust she knows what's best for her), I will understand, with true empathy, when she says, "I know I'm 16 weeks now. I thought things would be okay. But we split up. And so...well...I know I need to have this abortion now." I will be able to read between those lines. I will get she was waiting. To make sure. Because you need to be sure. As sure as possible, so the blurriness clears just enough so you can just make out something in the distance...and perhaps, just perhaps, it's your future winking at you.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
The Abortion Girl
Friday, May 15, 2009
lest anyone misunderstand: here's to escorts and guards
Through the doors of a clinic
By a man in a bulletproof vest
And no bombs went off that day
-"hello birmingham", ani difranco
Percentage of Clinics Reporting Increases in Violence by Type Since July 1994 Pensacola Murders
Here's to James Barrett, the volunteer escort in Pensacola, who doesn't even have his own wikipedia page. Here's to John Bayard Britton, the doctor who died with him. Here's to Barnett Slepian, the Buffalo doctor to whom Ani Difranco alludes in that song up there. Here's to Robert Sanderson, the security guard who died checking that Birmingham clinic for bombs, and Emily Lyons, the nurse who suffered disfigurement and disability and still works there 20 years later. Here's to the women at my workplaces who have been the designated mail-openers, trained to look out for suspicious packages and life-insured by the office just in case they miss one.
Here's to the New York Clinic Defense Task Force, Washington Area Clinic Defense Task Force, the South Jersey Clinic Defense Coalition, Clinic Defense Richmond, the Louisville KY escorts and WENCH, whoever is starting this blog here, and all the other groups and individuals who don't have a presence on the web.
You do your best to get women through the columns of harassers that sometimes like to hang out at our clinics for fun. You absorb the blows and the screams so that hopefully, someone trying to get medical care can get on with her appointment. You try to keep dangerous people away from our clients and staff, knowing you are confronting each risk before the rest of us. Like a minesweeper. Thank you for spending your Saturday mornings (and other times) doing this work for the rest of us.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Client AND employee satisfaction
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Sweet Charity
I suppose after leaving Abortion Land there are some gaps in my good-deed-doings. So I hopped in a van with some folks from work and passed out soup and sandwiches to men lined up on the street. They knew the route, all the stops, exactly what to expect.
"Two ham and cheese, please."
"Sorry, only one per person. But you can have as many peanut butter as you want."
"But I've been waiting, I'm hungry!"
"Shut up man, we're all hungry."
"How come he got two meat sandwiches?"
They might as well have been asking for abortion funding. The bickering, the dissatisfaction, the occasional smiling face asking for "whatever you guys can give me". Same variety of attitudes as those poor pregnant women with nowhere else to turn but a bleeding abortion fund, but to a lesser degree. It seems that eating one fewer bologna sandwich isn't quite as earth shattering as having a baby. And then they can have as many PB&Js as they want, and save them for later. They can meet the van same time every day at a variety of locations, and know that they'll at least come out with a donut or a cup of chicken noodle soup. It's not much, but it's reliable. And there's always someone willing to ladle out soup for an hour once a week.
But Abortioneers? We are few and far between. Women can't just find us at a regularly scheduled stop. No snacks just waiting there for you, as many as you want but please wait until everybody else gets some first. No abortion van to sit on the corner and wait for to collect your funding (though oddly enough, our sandwich van happened to coincide with a mobile health unit). Abortion is hard to dole out; I would easily rather spend a day feeding mouths than cleansing uteri. It's almost glamourous in comparison. You know that the end result is a full stomach, at least for a while. You know that even after the nuclear holocaust Wonder Bread and Smuckers will survive to feed the masses. And the best part? There are no pro-hunger martyrs to bust your balls for helping another human being. A food van, comrades, is charity bliss.
So here's to the Abortioneers far and wide, who sacrifice themselves, their hearts and heads, to get their hands dirty and bear the brunt of human suffering. It's tough work, and there are tons of us who would rather be anywhere else in the world. But Abortioneers make a difference unlike any other, and I salute you for your courage and grace. Fight the good fight!
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Emotionally Spent
Each day I am supposed to be the answer to someone’s problems. Today might be the end of their world if they don’t handle this right now and if I can't help them then it won't happen. Each and every person I talk to wants me to help them solve this problem, they need money and they need to get this abortion, fast. I feel scared and alone, even when there really isn’t any reason to feel that way. For years now my life work have been spent listening to people who are sad, angry, alone, and thankful or some culmination of many feelings.
I become a sponge soaking up other people’s pain and holding in my own. At some point I am saturated and begin dripping the manifestations of so many people’s anger. When someone asks me where I work I reply, “a woman’s health center.” I do not want to risk being chastised by someone, who quite frankly I could not give a rat’s ass about what they think. I don’t want to have to defend abortion, women, or my own choices. I dont want to spend the little bit of energy I have fighting with the world about what I have already decided is right.
Today a patient’s mom called to let me know she needed to reschedule again because of money. I answered the phone with a, “Hello, this is the Women’s Health Center” the caller says, “oh honey you sound horrible, what’s wrong?”
Very rarely does any one ask me how I’m doing or what’s going on with me. Nothing was wrong, I was a little more tired than usual but that’s it. I quickly rescheduled the appointment and talked to her about what they had already tried to come up with money. She has someone who could mail her money but it cost too much to wire it so it would be there a day late and the clinic only performs abortions once a week so her daughter has to wait until she is another week later in her pregnancy.
In Alabama there are no local funds. Really across most of the American South there are not local funds to support women in need in these communities. National organizations like the National Abortion Federation and National Network of Abortion Funds are umbrella organizations that support women financially in places like most of the American south where there are no local funds women can reach to for help in situations like the 16 year old whose mother called me again today. These national funds are helpful but are not able to meet the need especially in place like the south where poor is a concept beyond many American's consciousness.
For some women abortion will be the best thing that ever happened to her. She will escape a molester after years of abuse because of the biology of fertility and the molestation might finally end when she has to have an abortion. Or she will leave a violent lover because this is the last straw and she knows she cannot raise a child with a man who treats her like this. She will learn a valuable lesson about safe sex without contracting a deadly disease. No matter what the reason or outcome I will touch these women's lives and help them maneuver through many obstacles and they will fill me with rage and love. Hopefully I can figure out how to make it the best thing that ever happened to me, rather than a tired, "terrible" voice on the phone rescheduling appointments because no one has any money.
"If you want to pray for me, Tell God to send me some money"
I wonder how many women keep a certain amount of money in their savings as their "emergency abortion fund"? I've had two friends mention that they do this, almost subconsciously, to the tune of $400 because they'd heard somewhere that that's how much it costs. That's not a bad estimate, for a first-trimester procedure, though prices vary wildly after that.
But with most people I know outside the field, the first thing they ask me when they find out what I do is "How much does an abortion cost?" (Most of the time they don't ask "How do you do an abortion?" right off the bat, I guess because they worry that they'll seem clueless. Which they are, but it's not really their fault.)
And of course, this doesn't even touch on the clients I've worked with in the field. Some of them knew how much it cost from a friend who went through this recently; some of them thought they knew how much it cost from a previous experience ten years ago, and are shocked that the figure hasn't stayed constant (abortion fees have risen less than general inflation, but they have still risen); others really had no idea. But no matter the expectation, for I'd guess at least half of them, the idea of several hundred dollars set aside for an abortion -- or for anything, really -- is laughable, or a nice dream maybe.
I wonder how many people reading this (arguably not a representative sample of the general population!) keep an emergency abortion fund? If you're out there, give us your two cents. I posted a poll to go along with this, but feel free to comment too.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Rules and Realities
Maybe you've heard about President Obama's budget plan, which the White House released a few days ago for consideration by Congress. Points of note for people like us:
1) Strips public funding for abstinence-only education. This is probably the one everyone's heard about, and while it's good news for those of us who live in the real world, it's not going to be relevant to this post. I just mention it because we're excited for an end to government-sponsored lying.
2) Does not reverse the Hyde Amendment, a 1977 amendment to the Congressional budget which forbids federal funds from paying for abortions except in cases of rape, incest, or life endangerment to the pregnant woman (and even then, it usually doesn't).
3) Removes the Congressional prohibition (extant 1988-92, and again 94-present) on the District of Columbia using its own local funds to pay for abortions.
A lot of us are rooting for the repeal of the Hyde Amendment, because we see it as a violation of poor women's human rights: the right to health care and the right to reproductive freedom. However, a lot of us are also nervous about what its repeal might mean in practice, at least in the short term that you'd call the "transition period". Currently, women who do not have Medicaid coverage for abortion can turn to local and national funds in hopes of receiving emergency assistance. Will they fall through the cracks if the definitions of "eligibility" and "coverage" fall into limbo? We can only fret.
The problem is that the emergency funds we try to get women in contact with are not publicly funded and are not bottomless. They have to prioritize, and sometimes this means unfortunate blanket decisions like "women who are eligible for Medicaid payment [through funds allocated at the state level] must go to Medicaid, not to us," even if we know that this doesn't work out in practice, or difficult choices like "we have a twelve-year-old client who really needs our money, so this fifteen-year-old will have to cope for seven more months and make alternate arrangements."
In times when the whole economy sucks, fewer people donate money to social causes, and the ones who do usually donate smaller amounts. Of course this means a double-whammy on our clients, who are often poor to begin with and now will have less of a chance of getting help from the organizations they call. So even as I worry about a potential future where abortion access is publicly guaranteed only de jure but not de facto, I know that the present, in which small private funds are the only safety net for unhappily-pregnant women, is not sustainable.
So, yes, you should be following the politics behind Hyde and behind DC sovereignty, because they matter a lot in the broad view. But you should also be donating to your local fund, because they matter in the here and now, and in the in-between, and in the cracks, to the individual women whom our national budgets and their amendments do not even realize exist.
The DC Abortion Fund, a local fund serving the DC/Maryland/Virginia area, helps support (among others) women trapped in the complex Medicaid situation in Maryland. And they have recently written about their worries for the future. I invite every reader to make a one-time donation or perhaps commit to a repeated monthly sum. Rest assured, since DCAF is volunteer-run, almost all of their donations go straight to women in need. Even so, they say that they will have to shut down -- stop funding any procedures -- in a few months if their current trends continue.
But it's not just them, sadly; I heard from another manager who had to shut down in late February, so great was the need in their area and so few were the donations since the Great Economic Meltdown of 2008, and have heard from many more who are setting strict limits on the number of women they assist per week or the amounts of assistance they give to any one person. If you'd like to donate to your own local abortion fund, you can search the National Network of Abortion Funds' map. You can also contact national funds run by groups like Women's Reproductive Rights Assistance Project, the Third Wave Foundation, or the National Abortion Federation.
If you're wondering how you can make a huge difference in someone's life right away, or if your tax return is burning a hole in your pocket, please consider following these links and donating ASAP!
Friday, May 8, 2009
If they're cattle, am I an abortion farmer?
When I counsel women before their abortions, I do it with a sense of humor. It’s my nature to be a little bit silly, but when a client told me that my co-workers and I were the ones who let her know, through our demeanors and our passion, that her abortion did not HAVE to be a sad, traumatic, or morose experience, I knew that it wasn’t a bad thing to laugh about the things that we could. So when I end the counseling session, I tell the woman, “Next, the nurse will call you back to pre-op, where you’ll put a gown on and she’ll start your IV, and then you’ll wait in a different waiting room than before. And I’m not going to lie—sitting in a room full of other women while wearing a gown, with a needle in your arm, is the weirdest part.” And I usually get a laugh out of it.
The reason I’m hyper-aware of that atmosphere, though, is because that’s the subject of “acceptable” criticism in the pro-choice circles. Almost anyone who is “brazen” enough to talk about her abortion experience will allude to a cattle call or an assembly line or something equally dehumanizing, about when she had to wait, scared, and alone. Scared and alone, I get. Dehumanizing, I don’t.
Ann at Feministing recently posted about Neko Case’s abortion commentary, and as a New Pornographers fan and as an abortion fan, I loved that she was willing to talk about the A-word. And then I got to the inevitable:
"Years ago, I went to Planned Parenthood in New York -- for another reason -- and I saw these girls waiting there, and it was just awful. It was cold, they were in gowns that didn't really close, and their boyfriends and parents weren't with them, and they were sitting under these bright lights, and the people were mean."
And I hate it so much. The protestor who yells at me as I walk into work is never a part of my life, and his words mean nothing to me. But women like Case are a part of my movement, and their words come as a blow. My coworkers and I aren’t saints, and we have bad days, but I don’t think we’ve ever been mean to a client. And yes, pre-op IS “the weirdest part,” but because abortion is so stigmatized, there is no way we will ever have enough facilities or doctors or allies or FREEDOM to provide enough clinics to give every woman a completely private and individualized experience.
I want these women who are incensed at having to wait in a tiny, bright room in a tiny, faded gown to be incensed at the bigger picture. I want them to talk back to the ignorant friend who says that abortion is killing a child, to stop seeing the Ob/Gyn who gives referrals to a crisis pregnancy center, to vote for candidates endorsed by Planned Parenthood, to donate $5 to the clinic that helped them to safely terminate. Until then, my pre-op humor will suffice because who among us does not laugh so that she doesn’t cry?
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Intermission: Seedless and fruitful
I eat tangelos at such peak edibility that I eat three for dinner without missing other foods for even a moment. They unpeel all-in-one. They are the seeded kind—two embedded per whole tangelo. First, I chewed naively before I realized the crunchy intrusion. Then I did it right—rubbed my thumb and forefinger across the skin on either side at the same time, identified the impregnated ones, removed their bean through juicy, inevitable pockets of space.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Privacy
"Ma'am, can I help you?"
"Are you going the clinic?"
"Come with me, please."
What an overwhelming exchange; if the escorts hadn't been clearly distinguished, it would have been nearly impossible to tell who was pro or anti. And the way this poor woman tried so desperately to avoid them, all of them! She walked quickly as though she were being pursued, with her head above eye level to avoid glances from both sides. You could just imagine the gears turning in her head and the pep-talk she was giving herself: Keep moving girl, just 200 feet more, 150, 100.... She answered in the affirmative to the escorts' questions, but the look in her eyes told a different story. I watched as she continued speed-walking towards the clinic entrance, ahead of everybody, thankful to be away from all of them.
She was in no mood for a prayer, nor was she interested in taking refuge behind the orange vests. She wanted to be left alone. How strange! This is something that we in the pro-choice world we don't seem to consider very often. Don't these women want, need our support? Aren't they thankful for having their own personal escorts? Doesn't this compassionate care philosophy just rock?
Could be. But for the silent sufferer, the lone ranger, the proud Mary, should we consider toning it down, backing off? This is just another medical procedure, yes? As mundane as a dental cleaning and as common as a sprained ankle. Where to draw the line? So I pose a question to the masses:
How do we know when we're loving and caring too much?
Monday, May 4, 2009
Unsung Heroes
Because abortion was illegal, Gabita + Otilia had to jump through many hoops to obtain, basically, a black market abortion. Otilia never once winces or complains about borrowing money to help her friend pay for the abortion or helping to secure a hotel room where it can be performed. It's a dark film, not because it's about abortion, but because of what the two young women endure and struggle with in order to get, with absolute determination, the abortion itself. The film is about determination, spirit, and friendship...and less so about abortion; whatever your views about abortion were prior to watching the film, they'd still be firmly intact afterwards.
I don't mean to write a critique of this brilliant film; what I wanted to say is that I wished our Leila had an Otilia. Otilia never stops being the steadfast friend, never judges Gabita, is there for her, and does the unthinkable for her: she "agrees" even, to have sex with the horrible man that "performs" the illegal abortion so that Gabita can have one since they didn't have enough money to pay. Leila needed an Otilia. We all need an Otilia.
Fine, we don't live in a communist or totalitarian society and abortion isn't illegal. Women aren't going to come across a slimely, disgusting man who extorts sex for an abortion; but women DO have to navigate through borrowing as much money as possible for an abortion. They have to navigate trying to find a facility to go, a place where they won't be judged (like at Leila's hospital) since 87% of counties in the USA lack an abortion provider. Women have to jump through hoops to organize travel, organize the people in their lives, their jobs - nearly everything - to have an abortion. So, when it's hard, when it takes a lot of energy - especially when you don't have much of it because you're puking in the toilet every 20 minutes - it's good to have an Otilia. I wish for all the women we see to have a friend who does everything they can, without judgment, without flinching, to see their girlfriend/sister/niece/granddaughter/daughter is able to obtain her legal abortion.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Alone
In the state I interned, parental notification laws for minors seeking abortions were on the books. A 15 year old girl, let’s call her Leila, had come in seeking a second trimester procedure one afternoon. She was not in a position to tell her parents of her current unwanted pregnancy and chose the judicial bypass course instead. The judge deemed her competent to make the decision to terminate her pregnancy, and thus she showed up alone to her appointment. Upon ultrasound examination, it was determined that the gestational age of the fetus was 15 weeks and 6 days. In this particular hospital, it was standard practice to insert laminarias in a women’s cervix if she was over 14 weeks gestational age. The woman would then go home, allowing the laminarias to slowly dilate her cervix over night, and then return to the hospital the next day to complete her second trimester abortion. However, there was one problem with this system. Leila couldn’t go home. Her parents would ask questions, wonder why she had to go to the hospital the next day, wonder why she was so uncomfortable, etc. After all Leila had already been through enough to conceal this secret from her parents, and going home clearly wasn’t the best option.
So Leila called a trusted friend, who knew her situation, and asked her to pretend she was spending the night at her house if her parents called looking for her. Leila then called her own parents and told them she would be staying at her friend’s house for the night. Instead Leila would be staying in the hospital overnight…alone.
When the resident tried to find a room for Leila (and there were plenty open), nobody would take her. Nobody. The Obstetric department didn’t want a young girl aborting in their ward and the surgery team refused to have Leila stay on their end of the hospital. After the resident pleaded and negotiated with the Ob department, they finally agreed to take Leila, but it was clear they were not happy about it.
Leila settled in to her room in the Ob ward…alone. Nobody was there to stay with her and nobody came to check in on her. Yes, let me repeat that, the nurses never once came to check in on Leila. When the resident came to see her the next morning, Leila has spontaneously aborted the fetus in the middle of the night and it remained in her vaginal canal until the resident found it there the next morning. Fortunately, Leila was ok medically. Although abortions are extremely safe, they still come with risks (ie. hemorrhage, infection).
I am so enraged with I think of this story. There is no other situation where nurses and physicians would refuse to provide a hospital bed and care for a patient. There would be outrage if hospital staff refused to provide care for a patient recovering from an appendectomy, for a 55 year old woman pregnant with triplets, or maybe for a 85 year old man recovering from a penile implant.
I can’t imagine being Leila-absolutely alone, knowing that the hospital staff does not want you there because of what you are there for, not knowing what is happening to your body and afraid to ask anyone for help. What a horrible and traumatic experience. I hope I never hear of another Leila or personally witness it in whatever hospital I end up doing my training. Although, the skeptic in me thinks that is highly unlikely.
The stigma behind abortion is alive and well. Which is why we segregate it. You get abortions there , not here! Leila had made a choice, a choice she was legally allowed to make, and yet she was punished for it and her health was in danger because of it. It will take a long time to destigmatize abortion, but the time to start is now. No woman should have to go through what Leila went through…and this was in the Northeast! Imagine what it could have been like somewhere else.