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In 2011, my husband and I sat in our doctor's office to discuss the results of a 20-week ultrasound during my second pregnancy. I was already a mother to a happy and healthy 1-year-old girl, and after struggling with infertility, I was thrilled to be pregnant again. That day, we hoped for a gender reveal; instead, we learned that scans showed signs of a brain malformation called Dandy-Walker syndrome. I contacted every medical professional possible for more information, but additional tests only revealed more problems, including a rare birth defect known as agenesis of the corpus callosum and a severe chromosomal abnormality.
My husband and I were devastated.
My doctor explained our options: I could continue with my pregnancy and hope for a miracle while preparing for the worst—or I could terminate. Whatever we chose, my doctor told us that we would need to make a decision as soon as possible because of state laws that restrict access to abortion in Louisiana.
My husband and I tried to imagine the life that our severely disabled child would have if he or she survived childbirth. We consulted pediatric neurologists and neurosurgeons and saw a future full of painful treatments. We thought about what this decision would mean for our daughter, our marriage and the possibility of having more children. Ultimately, we made the most difficult decision of our lives to end the pregnancy.
Resolute in our decision and supported by family and close friends, I contacted my doctor and informed him that we were ready to terminate my pregnancy. I knew that I had the legal right to make this decision, but I had no idea how difficult the process would be.
Immediately, my doctor informed us that the hospital would not permit him to perform the procedure beyond 20 weeks because of anti-abortion political pressure in Louisiana. He suggested that we find an out-of-state provider, and with the help of a friend, I was able to connect with a qualified, compassionate physician in Texas and make an appointment. The physician and staff were incredible. They explained all of my options, were supportive of my decision and did not pressure me in any way.
The problem was anti-abortion politics, once again. After I was admitted to a hospital with a religious affiliation, we learned that the hospital board recently adopted a new policy that prohibited abortions beyond 20 weeks unless there was a danger to the patient's health. The hospital had failed to inform its OB-GYN department, and after listening to apologies from hospital administrators, I was wheeled across the street to a different clinic to start the process, then wheeled back into the hospital to complete the abortion.
Restrictions on abortion access—known as targeted regulation of abortion providers, or TRAP, laws—greatly limited my ability to exercise my right to abortion. In fact, Texas and Louisiana have both implemented so many restrictions that if my situation were to occur today, I would not have the option to terminate in either state.
On Wednesday, the Supreme Court will begin hearing arguments over one of Louisiana's anti-abortion TRAP laws. The law requires providers to have admitting privileges at nearby hospitals in order to provide abortions, despite the fact that the physicians perform all procedures at other facilities and have no need to admit patients to these hospitals. If the law is allowed to go into effect, it will leave only one provider and one clinic left to care for the estimated 10,000 women who have abortions yearly in Louisiana.
This law does nothing to help patients, and even though the Supreme Court struck down an identical law in Texas just three years ago, anti-abortion politicians in Louisiana are still trying to argue that this law is somehow less burdensome on patients. They are wrong. This law just makes it harder for women to obtain reproductive care.
Anti-abortion politicians are also arguing that clinics and providers should not be able to challenge abortion restrictions in court, and that only patients have the legal standing to do so. This argument completely fails to take into account the difficulty of filing an abortion lawsuit while pregnant.
Despite my law degree and six years of experience as a litigator, I never considered filing a lawsuit to challenge the TRAP laws that I had to contend with to obtain an abortion. For one, I was unwilling to waive my privacy during a sensitive medical crisis. For another, once I decided to have an abortion, I found myself scrambling to find a doctor who could perform the procedure in time; my immediate interest was getting the care I needed, not pursuing a lawsuit.
My doctors were supportive, compassionate and did all they could to ensure that I received the best care possible. I am in awe of the abortion providers who subject themselves to harassment, intimidation and threats of violence, risking their personal safety and livelihoods to care for patients. I am grateful for these providers and firmly believe that if they are willing to take action to uphold legal access to reproductive health care, they must be permitted to do so on behalf of patients like me.
I know that many women do not have the same financial resources, ability to take time away from work and access to medical providers who, regardless of their personal beliefs, prioritize their patients' rights and inform them of all treatment options, including abortion. For that reason, I am sharing my very private story today in solidarity with all women who have been and continue to be harmed by these laws.
Kimberly O'Brien is a mother, wife and amicus curiae in June Medical Services v. Russo.
The views expressed in this article are the writer's own.
