XPost: alt.society.sustainable, alt.california, sac.sports   
   XPost: nyc.politics   
   From: bmanning@dnc.org   
      
   In May of 2016, I had an abortion. I was 32 weeks pregnant. I   
   then shared my story, anonymously, on Jezebel. I suppose this   
   article at Rewire is kind of my “coming out,” and it’s so   
   personal of an issue I’m getting hives thinking about the   
   strangers—and more importantly non-strangers—who will read these   
   words and thus know something so deeply private about me and my   
   family.   
      
   While I am active on social media, I keep the world at arm’s   
   length and guard my privacy. But it turns out privacy is a   
   privilege. I no longer feel our current political climate allows   
   me privacy, not when my silence creates a void. The absence of   
   stories like mine leaves fertile ground for politicians to   
   hijack my tragedy for their own ideological purposes. So now I   
   am reluctantly putting my name to my story, to lend context to   
   the fever-pitched rhetoric around the abortions that happen   
   later in pregnancy. More importantly, though, the senate in my   
   home state of New York—a state I fiercely love—has an   
   opportunity to protect women like me in similar circumstances,   
   and they’re about to botch it. Again.   
      
   My husband and I were thrilled last year to find out I was   
   pregnant again after a miscarriage at ten weeks. After almost   
   eight long months of learning one “extremely rare” and “totally   
   random” complication after the next, we were told at 30 weeks   
   that the baby’s growth had fallen off a cliff and that I had   
   developed polyhydramnios, or high amniotic fluid levels. High   
   fluid coupled with a lack of growth indicated that the baby was   
   not swallowing. As our doctor was explaining this to us, putting   
   the puzzle pieces of the past eight months together, he finally   
   got to his point: “Swallowing is how the baby practices   
   breathing on the outside. If he cannot swallow, he will not be   
   able to breathe.”   
      
   He didn’t have to say the words “incompatible with life” at this   
   moment because he could see in our horrified faces that we   
   understood. When we asked what this would mean for our baby, he   
   explained that if we decided to carry to term, and this is   
   presuming I didn’t have a third-trimester miscarriage, the baby   
   would live for only a short time before choking to death.   
      
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   When we heard this outcome for our baby, which sounded to us   
   like suffering, we immediately wanted to know if there was any   
   other option. This is when our doctor first mentioned the   
   possibility of termination. Emotionally exhausted from months of   
   hanging on to hope, we were heartbroken. My husband and I looked   
   at each other with tears in our eyes, knowing immediately it was   
   the most humane possible conclusion to this pregnancy.   
      
   But then we learned that our doctor would not be able to provide   
   this care to us because abortions are illegal in New York after   
   24 weeks unless the life of the pregnant person is in immediate   
   danger. We were shocked because, as we understood it, Roe v.   
   Wade was supposed to protect people in instances such as ours,   
   when my life or health was at risk or if the pregnancy wasn’t   
   viable. Our doctor just said, “not in New York.”   
      
   At the time, the politics of the issue eluded us. All we knew   
   was that we needed care, we were unable to receive that care in   
   our state, and that we were racing a clock.   
      
   We were referred to Dr. Warren Hern in Colorado, one of four   
   doctors in the entire country who will treat patients from out   
   of state for later abortion care. Our doctor in New York assured   
   us that “patients who have received care at this clinic have   
   gone on to have healthy pregnancies, which we want for you.” I   
   couldn’t remotely fathom ever putting myself through this again,   
   but I nodded anyway. Due to a pre-existing health condition, my   
   doctors decided the best course of action would be for me to fly   
   to Boulder so Dr. Hern could administer a shot that would stop   
   the baby’s heart. Then that same night I would fly back to New   
   York, where I would be induced the next evening to deliver a   
   stillbirth.   
      
   The shot alone cost $10,000, and we had to pay cash upfront   
   because these procedures aren’t fully reimbursed by insurance   
   companies. My mom gave us the money, taking it out of her   
   retirement fund. We wondered why it was so expensive, but   
   couldn’t figure out how to place a monetary value on Dr. Hern   
   and his staff having to go to work behind bulletproof glass. It   
   took two weeks to get all of my doctors on the same page and to   
   coordinate our travel to the clinic in Boulder—last-minute   
   flights, hotels, and a rental car from the airport in Denver,   
   all paid for on credit cards.   
      
   At 32 weeks, a couple of days after Mother’s Day, my husband and   
   I got on the plane to Colorado. Walking through airport   
   security, a TSA agent congratulated me, gesturing to my stomach   
   with a huge smile on his face. I offered a curt “thank you” as   
   my husband squeezed my hand.   
      
   Once in Boulder, the care we received from Dr. Hern’s clinic was   
   exceptional. He treated me with sympathy and respect, offering   
   his condolences for my loss. When he had to give me an   
   ultrasound, he turned the screen away, but not before first   
   making sure it was OK to do so. Still in shock over this tragic   
   turn of events, I lay on the table, looking up at the ceiling.   
   My internal questions played like a tape over and over in my   
   mind: Why am I here? Did New York expect me to carry this baby   
   to term, only to watch him suffer and die?   
      
   Since then, I’ve tried to answer that second question. The only   
   answer I’ve come up with is: yes.   
      
   Abortion was a criminal act in the United States in 1970 when   
   New York state, as the local American Civil Liberties Union put   
   it, “amended the state penal code to include a new clause   
   allowing for a ‘justifiable abortional act,’ permitting   
   abortions performed within 24 weeks from the commencement of   
   pregnancy, and at any point during pregnancy when a woman’s life   
   is in danger.”   
      
   When the law was written in 1970, this was considered   
   progressive. Unfortunately, it was never updated after the Roe   
   v. Wade decision in 1973. So today, abortion is still a crime in   
   New York, but with exceptions.   
      
   The Roe decision hinged on the notion of viability, only   
   allowing states to limit abortion access after a fetus was   
   viable, which is generally considered around 24 weeks. In our   
   case, our baby would never be viable. Roe also protected the   
   right to an abortion in cases where the health of the pregnant   
   person was threatened.   
      
   This left New York’s law inadequate and technically   
   unconstitutional. Because while federal law is supposed to   
   supersede state law, when New York hospital lawyers open the   
   penal code and discover this discrepancy, they conservatively   
   advise health-care providers to steer clear of later abortions,   
   for fear of having their doctors thrown into jail. Sure, they’re   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)