Content warning: pregnancy loss.
Two years ago, in the weeks leading up to my birthday, I survived a miscarriage.
My miscarriage was one of the most painful (and quite frankly, traumatic) experiences that I’ve ever endured. I laid in our tub, with hot water streaming from our shower, and sobbed in pain as my body worked to expel blood and tissue from my body.
Over the course of two weeks, three blood tests, and two intrusive ultrasounds, it was determined that my traitorous body was still retaining “products of conception”. You know, more tissue and blood that, if not fully removed, could cause an infection at best, and sepsis and death at worst.
The options provided to me, post “incomplete abortion”, as my medical records currently read, were as follows:
— “Wait and see” if the tissue would pass on its own: not highly recommended by my medical provider, due to the chance of infection.
— Surgical dilation and evacuation (D&E): one of the methods available to completely remove all of the placental tissue in the uterus after the first trimester of pregnancy. A D&E may be performed for a surgical abortion, or for surgical management of a miscarriage.
— Medical management: A combination of the drugs mifepriston and misoprostol, also known as a medical abortion. These drugs cause the embryo to detach from the uterus, and the lining of the uterus to shed.
I’m beyond lucky to live in a state that currently protects a person’s right to an elective abortion, and access to these above procedures. But thanks to the Supreme Court’s recent ruling in Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization, some states have decided that surgical and medical treatments are no longer available not only to people seeking an elective abortion, but to people like me, who needed the assistance of these procedures in the wake of a miscarriage.
Some of these states where abortion is now illegal do provide an exception to save the life of the pregnant person — but that means that, in my case, I’d need to “wait and see” until either all of my retained products of conception had passed on their own, or until an infection was raging through my body and putting my life at risk. The Dobbs ruling removes a person’s medical agency, removes control over their own body, and puts lives at risk.
Before this week, I could count the number of people that knew about my miscarriage on one hand, and I’m not sharing today for likes or comments or social media clout, but to put another face to this battle for medical autonomy. You might not realize how many people you know who have benefitted from abortion procedures, but: I’m one of them.
Choosing to continue a pregnancy is a deeply, deeply personal decision, and mental, physical, and financial health are all factors that should be taken into consideration on a case-by-case basis. Pregnancy-related mortality rates in the United States are actually increasing; the US has the worst rate of maternal deaths (the “maternal” time period being defined as during pregnancy or up to a year after pregnancy has ended) in the developed world. Black individuals are at significantly higher risk of maternal death than non-Hispanic White and Hispanic individuals.
Anyway. For my birthday, I’m raising money for NARAL Pro-Choice America, and their efforts to lobby for access to abortion and birth control in the U.S., as well as to promote paid parental leave and stop pregnancy discrimination. Because abortion access is healthcare, and decisions to continue a pregnancy should be made by an individual and their medical provider, not by a state’s government.