Pregnant Abortioneers: We Still Love Babies

One of my co-workers is pregnant and in her third trimester. She happens to do ultrasounds and assist the doctor during abortions. I notice that sometimes, the women stare at her belly, then quickly glance at her face. It’s as though they’re confused and searching for an answer to, “You work here? But you’re pregnant. Are you judging me?”

I wish the women who were worried if our pregnant colleague was judging them, could have seen all of us when Veronica brought in her newborn. Everyone stopped working for a bit to swoon over this precious little bundle. It was a cacophony of estrogen swirling around, making music out of all our “ooohs” and all of our “ahhhhs.” Thing is, Veronica chose to continue her pregnancy, so we sang with delight. When a woman chooses to abort, we hum. We hold her hand while she may moan and we hum with warmth, compassion, and love.

I think it’s beautiful to see a pregnant woman working at the clinic. It’s the full circle. Nothing more perfectly shows how at different stages/places in our lives, we make different choices. We are women. Women who have had abortions, miscarriages, still births, babies…we’re women who have been infertile. We are amazing and we carry all those experiences within us. Sometimes, one woman has experienced all of what I just listed. Mothers have abortions. Single women have babies.

And, just on a side note: hopefully women see our pregnant staff and realize one more myth about abortion and abortioneers is squashed. We are not baby haters. Most of us adore babies and children. Some of us have even worked in child education. Many of us are mothers. We love babies. And we also honor your choice.

Nurturing Choice

I've heard the argument for parental notification/consent laws that reasons, "Why shouldn't the parent be involved in the daughter's life and decisions and choices?" It sounds so innocuous and Norman Rockwellian when it's stated like that, but we Abortioneers all know that sometimes it's more like, "This girl is going to be beaten into next week and into the foster care system and into teenage parenthood if lawmakers require consent/notification."

But laws and barriers to reproductive justice aside, I wanted to give a shout out to the parents of all abortion patients (not just minors) who are so involved and so loving. I've always known that if I had an abortion, my mom would be my first choice as a driver/support person. Even when I was in a long-term relationship, I would have chosen her. Above anyone else, I would want her comfort and humor and company. And I have absolutely no doubt that even if it meant taking a day off from work and driving a few hours to my city, she would be there for me.

My friend had an abortion a few years ago, and she came to my clinic with her mom in tow. She, too, had a partner, and she was well above 18, but her mom was her first choice. I could tell her mom was glad to be at her side, but it wasn't easy for her. I knew from past conversations that my friend's mom was pro-choice, and she had even had an abortion and a D&C (for miscarriage management) herself, but that day was hard for her. Although I was friends with the mom, too, I didn't delve into it, but I can only assume that her tears were from memories of her experiences or from the fierce desire to protect her daughter. But whatever baggage she carried, she was at her daughter's side, trying not to cry and trying to make the day about her adult child.

I also remember fathers of clients who were or were not required to accompany their daughters to the clinic, but who were obviously distraught. They weren't distraught because their daughters were killing their grandchildren (anti-choice rhetoric, right there), but because their daughters were faced with their first major adult decisions or because it was the first time their adult daughters had come to them for help or support. They didn't have to say what was running through their minds, but it was evident from the way they softly asked me, "How is she doing?" or implored, "Take good care of her." More than one burly man had tears in his eyes.

I've also seen a mother who accompanied her very young daughter to the clinic and whose boyfriend was responsible for the pregnancy, unbeknownst (until now) to the mother. In another case, the mother's son had brokered the rape of her daughter, also unbeknownst to the mom. Both mothers were clearly heartbroken over the complexities of the situations, as well as the implications of blame that they shouldered. In each of those cases, I made it a point to take the mothers aside and hug them and whisper simply, "You're a good mom."

Thank you, endlessly, to all of the good parents who support their daughters who chose abortion or who chose parenthood or who chose adoption. And thank you to all the parents who chose abortion, parenting, or adoption in order to give better lives to their daughters and sons.

Some details of each of these stories have been changed in order to protect client privacy.

My Dream Clinic

I don’t usually dream about my job, but I did the other night. It was kind of a weird dream…I actually owned and operated a clinic. It was a beautiful building with lots of light streaming in. There must not have been security risks, or surely I wouldn’t have been stupid enough to buy a building that had sky lights and floor-to-ceiling windows. The building looked a little like this, but only terms of light and windows:

I'm not into ultra-modern architecture, so in my dream, my clinic wasn't mod like that, but we were safe. We could have loads of windows. When you walked in, there was a large lounge with a fireplace, leather sofas, and comfy club chairs. Such as:

There were board games and playing cards mixed with a variety of books and magazines on the bookshelf. The receptionist wasn’t behind bullet-proof glass. Large, green plants were inside with ecru carpeting. Beautiful, original art splashed vibrant color on pale walls. It felt cozy and comforting. Women were given wristbands and their friends/partners/relatives were given buzzers that would vibrate when the client was ready to see them or they were needed for some reason. It was quiet in this room; however, there was a distinct smell of coffee...

All you had to do was follow your nose and to the right of the receptionist, there was a small café selling lattes and small pastries. All proceeds went to an abortion fund. We were proud of this fund. Another stone fireplace was in this café with small bistro tables. Several flat screen monitors were against one wall where you could sit down, enjoy your coffee, listen to some music and access the internet. The whole building had wireless.

The café overlooked a mature garden with more tables, chairs, wooden benches, and beautiful pathways curving against the flora.

A glass door led you outside where cherry trees and spring flowers kissed you on the cheek. Green, pink, purple, yellow abound. Women, men, and children sat quietly in the garden, whispering, so not to bother the hummingbirds flittering about.

A doorway from the café led to another room: a family room. Large flat screen TVs were in various places. Some had Wii attached, some had regular television. The room was large enough to have these areas without the noise being too overbearing. Children had art tables, games, toys, books. I felt proud that children could have a beautiful place to be, create, and stay active while they waited for their mother. We didn’t tell women they couldn’t bring their children. We knew how hard it was for them to find childcare. They felt less stress knowing their children were nearby and in beautiful, safe surroundings.

Women had private waiting areas within their exam rooms. Fresh flowers were in each exam room. Lush recliners that both vibrated and heated brought comfort to achiness. Aromatherapy, massage was on offer – for a slightly higher fee – for those who wanted it. Proceeds again supported our abortion fund. Exam rooms were spacious, with beautiful lighting and comfy, large tables. The rooms were not too cold or too hot, but just the right temperature, all with sky lights. Their support person could be with them during the abortion and just afterwards. They had their own private restroom. The abortion and the counseling would all be done in a room (not JUST like this) private, such as this - only more feminine and happy:

Abortions at my clinic were affordable. They didn't cost anymore than any other clinic. The staff felt peaceful in their work and the surroundings helped. It was accepted. No one picketed us. Our doctors didn't need bullet-proof vests. It was beautiful.

...if only….

Abortion Doulas

This past week, I had the extraordinary opportunity to witness an abortion doula at work.

We were performing a 12 week termination on a woman who had a fetal demise. The woman was teary before the procedure and definitely nervous. The abortion doula sat with her while she received her counseling, while her IV was placed, and while she waited for the procedure room to become available.

As the patient entered the room and sat on the table, the doula was with her the entire time. The doula stroked her hair out of her face, held her hand and talked to her about anything and everything. While we were performing the procedure, the two women talked about the patient’s children, the weather, and popular tv shows. Before the patient knew it, the procedure was over.

I have always been a supporter of doulas-whether for child bearing or termination-but to watch the abortion doula in action was amazing. She was so supportive of the woman. She was her advocate and her friend throughout the whole procedure. The doula completely changed how that woman will remember her experience.

Doulas should be an integral part of the pro-choice movement. They are patient advocates and their supporters. Years later, the patient will most likely not remember me or the attending, but she will certainly remember her doula.

You can read more about abortion doulas here

Close your eyes and imagine something for me

welcome to your new home

What if you moved to another country and had no family there, and your first language was one that very few people in your new home had even heard of, and you spoke very little of theirs? You might be relieved and happy to find someone who shared your mother tongue and your host country's language, someone who could help you navigate this new place as well as be a friend who understood where you came from.

You might start dating this person, move in with him, end up relying on him in most aspects of your life. He might be a lot older than you, take advantage of your dependence, control your access to food or transportation or a phone, and refuse to use birth control. 

What if you got pregnant? What if you got pregnant and had always looked forward to having children and this person who had final say in your life was not a fan of the idea? And what if you couldn't get your own job or lease or even typical social services -- shelter, healthcare, food for an infant -- because your immigration status wasn't clear? What would you do? 

You might decide that, as much as you'd rather have a child, the only feasible course of action is to seek an abortion, just like he is telling you. You might have to rely on him to translate during the counseling session, and there's really no point trying to say how you really feel, because he already knows it, and he won't translate it to the counselor, and anyway what you'd rather do doesn't change what you must do. 

After the abortion you might try to spill your guts, in spurts, and using a combination of elementary vocabulary and charades, to the various staff in the recovery room. Unfortunately, if you talked to me, I might have a really hard time understanding the full extent of your situation, and try to comfort you with tissues and talk about the hope of having a child when you're in better circumstances -- not realizing that the road to better circumstances isn't visible from here. (It's a lot harder for me to write about this failure to listen well than to read J's story of a failure in his early days as an aid worker: why?) But I'd notice that you kept saying you didn't feel strong enough to get dressed and be discharged yet, even though your vital signs were normal three times in a row. 

If you talked to my more perceptive colleague, she might try to ask you if you had "somewhere else to go" -- but you don't know anyone or anyplace other than this man. She might call in a counselor and make a bunch of phone calls to informal assistance resources, trying in vain to find someone who spoke the right language. The three of you might make a plan to have you come back in a few days for "a check-up" and hope that this guy at least respects medical orders and will give you another ride to the clinic. 

All of this, to our regret, would happen after the abortion that you wished you didn't have to have, because while antis are lately fixated on stopping "coerced" abortions, they are apparently completely clueless about the forces and circumstances that actually make women have abortions they wish they didn't have to have. When language barriers don't prevent women and girls from telling us what's in their heart, when immigration laws don't leave the most vulnerable with nowhere to turn, when men don't take the opportunity to take advantage, when families don't make their daughters believe that can't possibly come home pregnant, (you fill in the blank): that's when women will only have the abortions they want. 

Service

Thank you to deliverance, who joins us for another guest-blogging stint this Thursday morning!
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"Serving, like healing, is mutual. There is no debt. I am as served as the person I am serving. When I help I have a feeling of satisfaction. When I serve I have a feeling of gratitude."
-Dr. Rachel Remen


Abortion work is draining.

Most service professions are, but the stubbornly looming abortion debate is inescapable.

Every once in awhile, unknowingly, my patients provide some much needed fresh air.

Last week I was assigned the role of Patient Support. This job includes assisting doctors in procedure rooms, ensuring equipment is clean, but most importantly, making sure patients have someone to help them through an abortion procedure.

Unlike many outpatient surgeries, abortion comes with a myriad of emotions. It is different than a typical surgery, because there are intangible parts of a person which need attention and care.

Many women walk in the door having absorbed persistent rhetoric meant to make a common medical procedure much harder than it should be—"Abortion is murder," "'Mommy,' I love you," "You are heartless."

Having the opportunity to make an abortion experience comfortable and safe for a woman reminds me of why I am in abortion care.

A patient affected me last week by gushing, "Thank you, you are so kind. Thank you for being there for me." Another held my hand until her procedure was finished. Another told me that our clinic was lucky to have me, and offered a complimentary pass to her yoga studio.

Abortion work may be draining, but patients are endlessly gracious.

They serve me just as much as I serve them.

Racist Patients

"I'm just not used to all the N**gers touching me"

Recently we had a minor from the Deep South travel to the clinic where I work. I work in a clinic whose staff is a majority women of color and two-thirds of our doctors are also people of color. It was obvious from early on in her visit that this woman was slightly uncomfortable. I am one of two white staff members, and the other was out on vacation during this patient's two-day visit. She seemed scared and obviously responded to me better than anyone else despite the fact that I am not a clinical staff member. After being sedated she didn't want help getting dressed or getting to the recovery room, because it meant more people of color touching her. The patient's health and safety has to be our number-one priority regardless of her overt racism.

White women often come into our clinic and inadvertently direct their eyes at me when they ask questions, even though the woman of color standing next to me might be the person with the best answer to their question. Its often difficult to balance validating my co-workers' knowledge and ability with the desire to make the patient comfortable no matter how prejudiced or ignorant she might be. We have lots of women travel here from many places, including rural areas where overt racism is alive and well. I don't believe there is ever a justification for white people to use the "N" word. Really no one should, but that's a complex issue that I don't feel equipped to analyze.

The other women in the clinic where I work were appalled by this patient's overt verbal racism, and so was I. And there are so many other white patients who don't use such overt language to assert their racist attitudes. So often white women ask me questions, or try to get answers from me, or in some way validate my authority over other staff members. I find it really hard to figure out how to respond in those instances. I want to challenge other white people to realize the way racism operates in very inadvertent ways. I want them to realize racism is embedded in the assumed validation of my authority over a woman of color who has worked in the clinic for 20+ years.