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| "Eve" Escalera after Rubens, Oil (2007) |
In light of Roe v. Wade being overturned today 6/24/2022 - and having fought for it as a young teen in 1969, I feel compelled to share my story. Knowing that a woman's right to autonomy over her body was critical even then, I am appalled at the retraction of civil rights in this country.
I couldn’t tell my friends or family ever. But I can tell you, that I went through this alone. Not once, but three times - as forced by our puritanical, patriarchal -- ideological culture.
The first one: In my mid-30s (early1990s), I was a single mother of a wonderful - and very much planned-for 8-year-old son. I was dating a nice enough guy and got pregnant. He did not want the “attachments” of the baby. With no health care, having just started my own business, abortion was the most responsible thing for me to do. He thought it seemed reasonable to offer payment towards half of the abortion service—$200. (it seems like he had done this before!) With a friend’s help, I went to the local clinic on a Friday, and life went back to normal on Monday.
The second one: I was 38, caring for my dying mother, working full time, bringing up my son, and engaged to my future husband – with whom I became pregnant. Life was so impossibly difficult. I was told I would miscarry in a few months—about the same time my mother would likely die of her cancer. My fiancé was starting service with the USMC; he could only focus on the training demands and not on a baby. He would not be home with his deployment and training to help. Who would take care of my mother and son, who would run my home while I was having a difficult pregnancy… or in the hospital miscarrying? I decided on early termination. The USMC forbade him from coming home to help me because we weren’t yet married. So, I had to go it alone. I had to hurry because mom’s needs were becoming greater, my son would be going back to school, and I was now 6 weeks pregnant. Very soon it would be a bigger problem than a minor vacuum extraction.
I went back to the same clinic, humiliated. Looking around the room I saw all types of marginalized women—mostly women of color. A spackling of guys. Where were their friends and family? I realized abortion is such a lonely and secretive act. You must do it alone, in a place that is itself isolated and creepy. Cold fluorescent lights. Cold instruments. Cold surroundings. After the procedure was over, I was sedated and waited hours to be picked up. Eventually, I called my fiancé as the clinic was closing - I cannot remember because I was so drugged. I remember the office emptying, the lights were turned off, and I was just left alone on the back porch of the clinic sitting under a sole light, drained, scared, fading in and out of consciousness as the night dragged on. A few hours later, around midnight, a USMC young man, a stranger, came to drive me home. Post-surgery damaged, in another world (could I be even more humiliated sitting next to a total stranger) I remember getting home, thanking him for the ride, crawling into the safety of my bed, grateful to be home. and have it all be over. Monday morning, life went on. Two months later, I married my husband in a private ceremony just so he could come home for the funeral, the day before my mom passed. I managed that very difficult time for my family—with dignity. I had made the right choice.
The third time: By the time I was 42, we were a military family with health care. I was using three forms of contraception: a diaphragm (note: your diaphragm must be refitted periodically, but who knew!), a condom (note: free government condoms break), and spermicide (note: you gotta use a lot!). They all failed. Just so you know, this can happen—to anyone. When I found myself pregnant, I decided it was my last chance and wanted the baby. But, my husband did not. By that point, he still lacked maturity, was having anger management issues (diagnosed a decade later with PTSD, TBI, and late-onset schizophrenia). I do not remember anything about the abortion, itself, only that I had one. A few years later my husband descended into turmoil, substance abuse, and abandoned the marriage.
I was lucky that abortions were legal. Otherwise, my life—and the lives of those around me—would have been ruined without the ability to steer the right course.
I want to tell you another story about my friend "LM" (who turned 95 in 2022!) I have known LM since I was 21. This past year I asked LM about her feelings regarding an adult daughter I knew she had about my age and wanted to know if the daughter was still alive and if there were termination considerations. LM was denied an abortion because they were illegal in the 1950s. She almost died. The daughter she bore has lived her life in an institutional vegetable.
These are LMs words:
“I had wanted so much to be pregnant and in 1955 I was….except that I kept spotting. My doctor said based on the level of bleeding, I would probably miscarry at about 8-12 weeks. The spotting continued. At three months, the doctor felt I was still pregnant because my uterus was larger than usual. My doctor had asked the hospital to terminate the pregnancy at 12 weeks because he could only see trouble ahead. He was in tears when he told me he could not perform an abortion without losing his license, but said he would see me through it however it ended. Not until 4.5 months could he detect something like a sporadic heartbeat. A couple of months later, he still heard a heartbeat but again warned me I would miscarry because the baby wasn’t growing. After that, I had several hemorrhages, and at 7 months I was finally on complete bed rest. Faulty fetus heartbeat. He again asked permission to end the pregnancy from some council, but it was not granted because I had had a normal pregnancy and delivery with my son previously, so there was no precedence!
At 7 1/2 months, I was rushed to the hospital, for hemorrhaging (Catholic St. John was the closest). My doctor wanted to do a c-section right then, to save me. They would not allow it because there was a baby heartbeat, however weak, and the baby might die during the procedure. Baby life came first apparently, so I was sent home…because I wasn’t in labor! Just bleeding! Three days later I was back in the hospital, hemorrhaging again. This time the Doctor had to wait, (while I continued to hemorrhage) until they couldn’t hear the baby’s heartbeat. Then finally they figured they’d better save me…But the Catholic doctor on the midnight shift said, "No, in case the baby is alive, let things run their course.” So, we waited for the next shift, and that doctor finally allowed the c-section. I don’t remember anything about it. But it turned out there was indeed a very faint heartbeat. We found out I had a condition in which the placenta is stretched across the cervix, and it tore every time I stood up, walked, sat down, sneezed, or peed. Later, the pressure of the baby (all 3 lbs., 13 oz. of her) added to the problem. Hence the bedrest. If only they had had ultra-sound! If only they’d had taken care of it at 6 weeks as my doctor had wanted to do!
When I recovered two days later, they told me I had a baby girl. Legally blind and deaf, unable to comprehend anything, and needing 24/7 support.
She lived in a state hospital and became a ward of the state. When California shut down its “institutions,” anyone who was considered “educable” (capable of some degree of learning) was simply returned to family members. But she wasn’t considered educable and was considered likely to harm herself or others (she used to bite) so she was sent to places with the necessary equipment and 24/7 staff.
The Roe v. Wade decision was in 1973, too late to help me with my daughter, who is still living as a vacant shell of a person. She will be turning sixty-seven this year. She will probably outlive me. My son, hopefully, will be considered my replacement, but technically, she is a ward of the state. I hope he just lets “things take their course” (like that doctor said). Ever since that experience I have firmly supported Planned Parenthood, and rage at the fact that just about every abortion discussion is led by men! What the hell do they know about it?”
LM and I are sacrificing our privacy so that others might understand: the importance of our experiences as women who have reproductive issues needing protection! I pushed hard for the doctors to hurry my procedure. But I am an educated, privileged white woman who is very resourceful! I feel very badly for all the reproductive women who may need privacy and care—as some of our states today neglect women's health needs; while lives once again are turned upside down; once again will be going through this humiliation in isolation; while once again - men are “relieved” of their responsibilities can continue living their lives without interruption. Most women talk about their abortion experiences from their sole perspectives. Where are the men in this experience, the husbands, brothers, fathers, and male friends? LM was married, and I was too. Most women experience this trauma unsupported financially and/or emotionally---having to get themselves out of pregnancies they did not “alone” get themselves into! We tell the stories of endurance being very "alone" experiences.
Are we now about to violate a woman’s inalienable right to privacy and healthcare once again? In effect, recodifying an inhumane past -- telling the women of today that the sanctity of their decisions and ensuring their health, no longer matters?
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| Self Portrait Oil on Canvas 2022 |
