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Personal Stories of Abortion Made Public
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Prompted by Emma Green's note on the Supreme Court case Whole Women's Health v. Hellerstedt, for which a group of lawyers filed a document openly describing their abortions, readers share their own stories in an ongoing series edited by Chris Bodenner. We are posting a wide range of perspectives—from pro-choice and pro-life readers, women and men alike—so if you have an experience not represented thus far, please send us a note: hello@theatlantic.com.
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Chris Bodenner
11:35 AM / March 1, 2016
Flying to Another State for an Abortion
Tomorrow the Supreme Court will hear an abortion case for the first time in years, Whole Women's Health v. Hellerstedt, and it's shaping up to be hugely consequential. Garret Epps has an overview of the case and what's at stake. If the Texas law in question is upheld, 34 of the 40 clinics providing abortions in the state will likely close because they won't be able to meet two new major regulations.
About a month ago, in the wave of email from readers responding to our callout for personal stories of confronting abortion, we heard from a woman living in Texas who was already struggling with abortion regulations in that state. She is also one of the few readers in this series willing to use her real name:
My name is Dr. Valerie Peterson. I live in Austin, Texas, and I'm a single mom of two kids. I had my first daughter when I was 17, and then my second child at 19. I worked full-time while attending school full time, all the way through earning a doctorate.
I had several gynecological complications after my second child and was told that I couldn't get pregnant again. I was shocked when my doctor told me I was pregnant in July of 2015. Even though this was unexpected, it was a wanted pregnancy, and I started prenatal care.
Because of high blood pressure, I was considered a high-risk pregnancy and had to have ultrasound scans every two weeks. At my 12-week scan, I was told that there was a possible abnormality in my son's brain, but more testing was needed. For the next several weeks, I went back and forth to my doctors for additional tests. At my 16-week appointment, the sonogram my son's brain hadn't developed into two halves, and there was also an open neural tube. My doctor confirmed the diagnosis: alobar holoprosencephaly, or HPE.
HPE is a condition that is 100 percent incompatible with life. I had two options.
I could try to carry the pregnancy to term and eventually miscarry or give birth to a stillborn baby, or I could terminate my pregnancy. I was devastated by the diagnosis and these options, but knew that I needed to end the pregnancy. I knew that mentally and emotionally it would have been extremely difficult to continue day to day knowing I was carrying a child that wouldn't survive. I was also informed that the procedure wasn't covered by insurance, because it was considered "elective" … this made the situation even worse.
My doctor referred me to an abortion provider in Austin. However, I was told that there was a three-week wait for an appointment. As you can imagine, I was emotionally distraught and didn't know how I would continue to carry the pregnancy that long.
My doctor was eventually able to find an earlier appointment through his personal connections at Planned Parenthood. But I was again devastated to learn that due to the laws in Texas, my procedure would take four days. The first day I would have to go through mandatory counseling. This included having an ultrasound and learning about additional options besides abortion. After the counseling, there is a mandatory 24-hour waiting period. On day three, they would be able to begin the procedure, but because of how far along I was, they would have to dilate my cervix on day three and have me return on day four to have the procedure completed.
The process seemed extremely cruel and emotionally grueling on top of everything else I was dealing with at the time, and I just couldn't do it.
I confided in a friend whose sister works in health care in Orlando, and she put me in touch with an abortion provider there. I called the doctor, and she told me that she could see me as soon as I could get to Florida. I called on a Thursday, flew in the next day, and my procedure was over by Saturday evening. They were able to take care of everything in one day.
I am thankful that I had the resources to leave the state. However, it hurts my heart to hear stories of women that aren't so lucky.
3:00 PM / February 15, 2016
'I've Had Two Abortions. Only One Was Legal.'
That's how our reader frames her very different experiences in two countries:
I was born and raised in Indonesia, where premarital sex is condemned. You are expected to stay a virgin until your wedding night. The only sex education I've ever received in school was a chapter on reproductive organs in biology class. Parents don't talk to their kids about sex. When I got my first period in 6th grade, my mother warned me to be cautious, since I could get pregnant now. She did not elaborate further.
When I was 15, my first boyfriend pressured me to sleep with him to prove my love. I balked at the last minute but he pushed on. I'd never heard the term "date rape."
To prevent pregnancy I used the calendar method, pulling out, and condoms. I wasn't well informed of other birth-control methods, plus I would be too embarrassed to obtain one from a clinic due to prejudice, since I was not a married woman.
I got pregnant in 1999. I was 19 and a freshman in college. Abortion is illegal in Indonesia and highly taboo.
As soon as I confirmed the pregnancy, I knew instantly that I wanted an abortion. I was not ready to raise a child and have a shotgun wedding. My boyfriend was supportive of my decision, even though he wouldn't hesitate to marry me.
This part was easy. Finding an abortion provider, on the other hand, was a different story. I decided that going to a medical professional (not a traditional healer) would be the best option. A lot of women have died taking the healer route, and I did not want to be one of them.
Finding a clinic was an almost impossible task. Now I understand why so many women ended up going to a healer instead. In the meantime, I tried several traditional abortion methods—from taking pills that would "make my period come" to drinking some leaf smoothie. Nothing worked.
At around 12 weeks of pregnancy I finally found a clinic. I knew that the clinic was barely legal, but I had no choice. I could only hope for the best. I came in to schedule an appointment and was told it would cost around $500. Fortunately I had enough money from my savings. My boyfriend also chipped in. A week later I came in for the procedure with my boyfriend by my side.
I remember sitting in the lobby and watching other women in the room. Some of them came alone and some with their men. They all had the same facial expression: ashamed. None of them were talking and everybody looked uncomfortable.
I can't recall too many details of the procedure nor the place. All I remember was that "the room" looked like a normal exam room equipped with the usual medical apparatus. I was put under general anesthesia, but there was no anesthesiologist present. I remember being awoken abruptly and having a warm cup of tea shoved onto my face. I remember being in pain (I had curettage). I remember being ordered to get up and pushed toward the door. I remember crying. I don't think I had ever felt so broken before. I cried for an hour on my boyfriend's shoulder afterward.
Was I traumatized? Maybe. But I did not regret it. I was relieved to finally able to return to my old self.
I got pregnant the second time in 2003. I was living in Arizona and was married to my abusive first husband. My natural birth control failed. Since my husband and I agreed to not have any children prior to getting married, abortion was our default decision.
I was able to locate a clinic quickly and conveniently. I made an appointment by phone and went in for the procedure seven weeks into the pregnancy (the earliest time for surgical abortion). The clinic setting was pleasant. The all-female staff was friendly, supportive, and accommodating. I had a positive experience—a night-and-day difference compared to my first abortion.
Being on both sides of the fence convinced me that it is our duty and responsibility as a civilized society to provide safe and legal access to abortion, paired with comprehensive sex education and easy access to birth control. Because knowledge is power and that prevention is key.
I have since been divorced, remarried and given birth to a son (he's a toddler now). I was able to finish college, escape grim economic fate, walk away from an abusive marriage, and have the family I always wanted, on my terms. I owe it all to my abortions. I can't imagine how my life would be like had I kept those pregnancies.
Before the birth of my son, I rarely thought about my unborn babies. After he was born, I was able to see things from a different perspective. I could see that I might have acted unfairly by not giving them a chance to be born. I apologized to them.
But I still don't regret the abortions. What's different now is that I know that pregnancy, the birth of a child, and motherhood are amazing and wonderful experiences, especially when you're ready for sure.
Getting an Abortion as a Young Teenager
Four readers recall their experiences facing an unwanted pregnancy at a very early age. Our first reader was younger and in more desperate circumstances than most:
At 15 years old, I was living on the streets of Northern California. I got pregnant by my 39-year-old boyfriend. He said he was sterile, so he didn't believe it was his, and he berated me. I was in no way capable of raising a child. I was living on the streets, had no income, was taking drugs, and was not at all responsible.
I went to Planned Parenthood, where they told me of my options—adoption, keeping the baby, or abortion. I could not keep the child and would not abandon the child to be brought up by someone else.
The procedure was over quickly. I sat outside at the bus stop in the cold, feeling sick, and cried. I felt so horrible and guilty that I had allowed myself to get pregnant. I respect all life, even that of an insect, so it was a very hard thing for me to do.
I am in my 50s now and do not regret it a bit. It was the right choice and I am so happy that I HAD a choice. I now realize that I had been manipulated by a pedophile, but thankfully I was not forced to have his child.
This reader also had a really tough upbringing:
I stumbled across your compelling series—vast in how readers view abortion and why—and it brought up some long-since buried emotions. My story is similar but not so similar at the same time.
When I was 14 years old, my mother became addicted to drugs and would leave my two siblings and me home alone for days to weeks. I don't think too many people in our family were aware of how frequently the three of us were left alone and we never reached out to any of them to let them know, probably because of a combination of shame and embarrassment.
This went on for almost six months, unnoticed by most, until I finally confided in one cousin, who of course immediately told her mother (my mom's older sister). I can still remember the day my aunt came to the house to confront my mom and tell her she was there to remove my siblings and me. The three of us were all scattered between different relatives and friends while my mom sank deeper into addiction, even becoming homeless herself for quite some time.
I was 16 when I became pregnant for the first time. I had dropped out of high school and was living from pillar to post wherever I could. The aunt who had rescued me had long since put me out because she couldn't deal with the emotional wreck of the wild child I was at the time.
Despite my circumstances and the father's vehement objections, I kept the baby. There I was, a pregnant 16-year-old dropout on public assistance, living with friends but had to be responsible for another life. I wanted to be the best mother I could, and being pregnant jump-started my wanting to get my own life together.
I went back to school to get my high school diploma, but only three or four months after going back, I discovered that my prescription birth control pills had failed and I was pregnant again, just shy of 18 years old. I was just starting to get my life on track for the sake of my first born, still estranged from my parents and other family members, and on public assistance.
As hard of a decision as it was to make, I decided to terminate the pregnancy. Only one person, the baby's father, knew that I was getting an abortion, but I know it was the best choice for all involved. It was a last-resort decision because I already had a baby. I knew how in love I would be with this new baby I couldn't afford, so the moment I heard the heart beating for the first time and felt the baby kick, I knew adoption was out.
This is the very first time I have spoken of this abortion to anyone other than medical personnel, but I felt it was important to share the many many reasons why women choose to have an abortion. It is never an easy decision or as black and white as some would have people believe. I am not ashamed of having an abortion, but my story involves others who may not want to be identified, so if you use my story, please publish it anonymously.
Another reader, in contrast, deeply regretted her abortion:
I got pregnant at 15 years old with my first ever boyfriend, the man I lost my virginity to. (We have a five-year-old son today and are still together and engaged 16 years later.) Having the abortion was the worst decision of our lives and haunts us till this day. I was so scared of my dad—that's it, that's the only reason I did it!
I don't even know how far along I was. I was not showing, though. My older sister took me to a doctor at a very famous Los Angeles hospital, where all the stars go. I didn't want to do it, but did it anyway. I was young and miseducated. The doctor didn't even speak with me or get any info. She was a OB where my sister worked and did a "favor."
It's sad that this is even a option. I think abortion should be banned. I know that this will never happen, but I just hope there is no girl or woman who feels like we do. Had abortion been banned, I would have a 15-year-old child now.
One more reader:
I was lost in the middle of a messy family that was falling apart at the seams. When I could no longer endure the constant screams that plagued our home, I turned to my boyfriend, who I thought was my knight in shining armour. It was August 1999, I was 17, and in that time I didn't realize that he was just a different version of chaos. We had momentarily broken up and were just getting back together, so I was happy and feeling safe from my family.
I still recall the exact moment it happened: He didn't withdraw, and I knew it was intentional. When I asked why, he responded that I was his and I needed to learn that lesson. So there was no shock when my period didn't arrive. And I had no hesitation in my choice. I could not, and would not, bring a child into this screwed-up life of mine.
I started making phone calls, and I was quickly informed in Missouri I would need parental consent. Thankfully someone told me that I could cross the state line into Illinois to obtain the abortion without parental consent.
We gathered up the money—no small feat for us—obtained a money order, and drove over for the appointment. My first memory of the place are these wonderful volunteers who shielded us from the angry protesters as we walked inside. After an ultrasound to confirm the pregnancy, I spent a lengthy amount of time with the counselor, who probed to make sure I was making this choice myself. It was the opposite of pushing an abortion on me; she encouraged me to not go through with the procedure if I had any doubts.
I had the abortion and didn't look back. I started making changes, and within two years I managed to extract myself. I moved away, went to college, got married, had a beautiful son on my own terms, went to grad school, and I've made this life into what I wanted. I wish everyone had that ability—to be in charge of their own life and destiny. To me there is no greater freedom than being able to choose your own future.
Thank you for doing this and posting these stories.
11:09 AM / February 8, 2016
'Fathers Have Virtually ZERO Rights'
Those are the words of the second reader below. But first, this one writes:
While I agree that having an abortion should be a woman's decision, it's not just a woman's decision. I am a woman myself, and my significant other and I had a scare not too long ago. I asked him what he wanted to do if I were pregnant, and he said "I don't care. It's your body and your choice. I'll stand behind whatever decision you make."
Although I am grateful for his support at that time, IT WASN'T JUST MY DECISION. Men: Take a note. If you impregnated a woman, it's your choice too. It's not just her DNA growing in that womb; it's yours too. You have every right to stand up and say "I want to keep this child and have a life with you" or "I'm not ready yet." If a woman asks you what YOU want to do, think it over and tell her. Being pregnant when you're not ready is a scary and confusing thing and it means the most to us when you stand up and let us know what you want.
Eventually, my significant other did tell me what he would have wanted to do after we confirmed I wasn't pregnant: He would have wanted it. He would have stayed in my life, and our child's, and would have never regretted it. I'm not saying having an abortion is wrong; I'm saying that if you helped make the pregnancy, you should have just as much say as the other person.
We have already heard several stories and perspectives from men confronting abortion—here, here, and here. The following man's email is a stark contrast to the earlier one from the woman who "never told the 'father'" because her pregnancy and abortion were "none of his business":
I was reading some of the amazing personal abortion stories posted in the Notes section of your website. I feel, especially as a man, that I should share my story about how my wife and I were placed in the same situation as many of your readers: ending a life that we had already grown to love, OR bring a child into the world knowing the suffering it would endure. Being thrust into a situation where you're having to choose whether your own child lives or dies, no matter the outcome, was no less emotionally, physically, and spiritually painful for me, so I'll make this brief.
My wife and I married young; I was 23 and she just 19. Just enlisting in the U.S. Army, we packed our bags for Europe. Prior to getting married though, we both agreed that we weren't interested in having children of our own. We both took preventative measures via birth control pills and the religious use of condoms until I was ready to commit to a vasectomy. For four years we partied and lived carefree (between deployments, of course), completely content in just each other's company. However, as she was heading back for a routine tonsillectomy, a last-minute pregnancy test confirmed that despite our best efforts to avert this situation, she was pregnant.
Disbelief, shock, anger, anxiety, dread—I remember a flood of emotions that day. But out of all those negative feelings, I noticed a glimmer of excitement of the thought of having a baby. There was one hitch, however: My wife was currently taking a very strong medication that, according to her doctor and the FDA, causes severe abnormalities in 100 percent of births. Now off the market, it was such a dangerous drug that it required a pregnancy test before each monthly refill.
Our first OB appointment was surreal. I saw what I nicknamed "my peanut" at just a couple of months via ultrasound and again, felt that twinge of excitement. Even though it had a heartbeat, I knew it was still just a bundle of cells. So imagine my surprise when I noticed that not only was I feeling true excitement, I was feeling love towards this living, growing thing.
Unfortunately the excitement was cut short by our OB who asked, "So what is the plan?" We were stationed in Germany at the time and the medical care was amazing, but the approach to abortion a lot different. Ending the pregnancy never really crossed my mind, until the doctor gave us the rundown on all the terrible conditions our child could be born with. It wasn't even an IF he was born with an abnormality; it was WHAT KIND, if not many—all being severe and all ensuring our child was going to grow up knowing nothing but pain and suffering.
Through many sleepless nights and long conversations, we decided on a "wait and see" approach. The hope that he might be born healthy was still there for the both of us, but it was short lived. The doctors explained that many disabilities, including the more severe, wouldn't manifest till later on in the pregnancy which would be past the point of legal abortion in Germany. Insistent that our baby WAS going to be born with many health issues, our medical team relentlessly pressed us to end the pregnancy.
Being extremely young and independent, turning to our families for advice was a hard decision in itself. I already knew my father's stance; growing up with a severely handicapped brother (also due to medication taken while in utero) took a very hard toll on him and my grandmother. He reminded me of the pain that my uncle lives with everyday, not to mention the severe financial struggle they endured because of the long-term medical care he has needed. "If you love the baby, don't bring it into this world to suffer," he would say. Everyone had their own opinions of course, but in the end it was my mother-in-law that had one simple answer: pray.
My wife and I believed in God, but weren't the best in living a "Godly life," and our beliefs state that "all life is precious and shouldn't be taken unless extreme circumstances." So where did we fall in? So even though we were unsure if we'd even get an answer, we prayed with torn hearts for almost two weeks.
Then one random afternoon we got our answer, at the same time we looked at each other and knew what needed to happen.
The office visits became fairly routine after our decision: Listen to the baby's heart—CHECK; measure the babies growth—CHECK; ask to reconsider an abortion—CHECK CHECK. Up until my wife was almost five months pregnant, she was constantly asked to reconsider our decision. "If you're going to do it you need to go ahead because after five months I have to send you to the Czech Republic," her OB would always add and always with assurance we declined.
I'm not saying we KNEW our baby was going to be perfectly healthy, but what we did know is that no matter what happened, we could handle it. I knew it was going to be tough (to put it lightly), taking care of a child with severe physical and mental handicaps. But I was at peace with our decision and I knew without a doubt that there was a reason we needed to forego the abortion. And in my eyes, no matter what the capabilities of a child are, each child is a blessing and I was going to love him unconditionally, no matter what.
Fast forward: NOW my child is an extremely intelligent, funny, handsome nine-year-old little boy. He was born absolutely healthy, without even a small indication that things could have easily turned out different for us.
I know many facing this situation and ones similar aren't religious, and I'm not attempting to imply that "all you need to do is pray and it will make everything a-okay!" But this is what worked for us, and without prayer, things could have turned out much differently.
I know my story got long, but it's one I feel strongly compelled to tell, mainly because I'm grateful for two things: One, because of my mother-in-law's advice and realizing I didn't have to make a blindfolded decision. I could make one that not only was I confident in, but one that wouldn't fill me with regret later. Second was the fact that I WAS able to help make the decision regarding my child, one that many fathers don't receive. Fathers have virtually ZERO rights in determining the outcome of THEIR child.
Coming from my perspective as a man and also experiencing similar situations via close friends of mine, it seems as though we get lost in the arguments of "a women's right to choose." What about the man's rights? Fathers often get overlooked and many don't realize that for some men, the decision of an abortion is JUST as emotionally painful, with many carrying their guilt their whole life just like so many women. It can be equally devastating and heartbreaking learning your partner has terminated a pregnancy without your knowledge, especially in cases that I've seen firsthand, where the father would've HAPPILY taken the child and had the means to raise it in a comfortable and loving home.
But these fathers are often overlooked in the constant debate of women's rights vs. child's rights. If the child is kept and raised by the mother, many times the father is taken to court and through child support, legally bound to ensure the child is receiving proper care. The fathers in these situations are denied a choice, so why does it seem that so much attention is giving to the "mothers choice"?
Some may deny any parallels, considering it's the women's body and therefore her right to choose. So in considering this, there really isn't an easy answer or fix. I just hope and pray that in the near future we can AT LEAST recognize the fathers' feelings and one day perhaps give them a voice too.
Another would-be father's voice:
My girlfriend and I found out we were pregnant recently, in the last week of January 2016. We have been in a happy, healthy, and committed relationship for a year. We were already openly talk about the possibility of starting a family together in the future—"future" being the key word, as we are both in our mid-to-late twenties at the start of careers, and my girlfriend is about to start graduate school in the fall while taking out student loans. In our plans, we didn't see the possibility of raising kids for another 2-3 years, when we would be more secure with our finances and relationship.
Our situation was even more complicated due to the fact that we are currently in a long-distance relationship until Summer 2016, since I had previously committed to a temporary work contract in another state before we had even met the year before. Fortunately, my job brings me back to our hometown frequently so I can see her.
During one such work trip back home, my girlfriend expressed concern that her period was two weeks late. Although we use condoms every time, we immediately went to buy a pregnancy test, which came back positive. I immediately felt in shock, and I was distraught that I had not tried harder to convince her to use additional methods of birth control such as pills or an IUD. She was also in disbelief. As these thoughts swirled inside both of us, we outwardly tried to calm each other and talked about our options.
My girlfriend quickly decided to terminate the pregnancy. Although I immediately gave her my support in whatever she chose, my feelings were still in a jumble, and I seriously entertained the idea of having a child. Having a family is one of my main goals in life, and I felt conflicted to not embrace this opportunity, however surprising and untimely it was. After a good night's sleep, however, pragmatism set in and I was 100 percent behind the decision to terminate.
Her health provider did not perform abortions, but they offered referrals to clinics. Unfortunately, Planned Parenthood did not have an available appointment for two weeks and I was scheduled to return to work out-of-state the next day. Her provider had agreements with another clinic that had an appointment available two days later, which my girlfriend preferred. I also wanted to be there through the process to support her and ensure her health, so I changed my flights on my own dime and stayed home.
The worst part was not feeling like I could tell my work and my family why I had extended my stay. Although I work for a liberal organization and come from a liberal family that is incredibly supportive, I still felt a taboo in discussing what we were going through. The clinic experience was fast, safe, and comfortable for her, which was amazing, but even the clinic did not have resources available for men to talk about their trauma.
It has been five days since the abortion and I have since talked to my sister and have plans to talk with a couple friends in person this coming weekend. I also plan to talk to my parents in the coming weeks once I have fully wrapped my head around what just happened, but I am still hesitant to talk to my boss. My girlfriend and I talk every day like we always do, although we are both experiencing a mild depression and feeling out of sorts at work, which we assume is normal. She is eager to get an IUD soon so we don't go through this again. Ultimately, we're both satisfied with our decision and are actively working to make this experience bring us even closer together.
Part of me wants to reveal my name to break the chain of taboo, but I know my girlfriend is not ready to share this with the public, and in all honesty I worry that this could impact my career. I feel weak requiring you to keep my name anonymous, but also empowered that I was at least able to share my experience and read those of others.
9:40 AM / February 8, 2016
Flying Across an Ocean for an Abortion
That's what a fiercely pro-choice reader did:
I was 18 or 19 and living in Spain around 1979/80, dating an American and (stupidly) not using protection. I found out I was pregnant after I had broken up with him. Abortions were illegal in Spain, but I worked and had money saved and luckily I was able to afford to fly back to the U.S. and had my abortion in a hospital.
The whole thing cost a fortune with airfare, hotel, meals, etc., but I was lucky to be able to control my destiny that way.
We had no home phone, no internet, no way to plan ahead except get a plane ticket, get to the States and figure it out when I landed. I was very fortunate, but no woman should have to jump through any hoops to control her own body. Especially flying to a whole other country.
I never for one second doubted that was what I wanted to do. My parents wanted me to go to a home for unwed mothers in the U.S., have a baby and give it up for adoption, but I refused to do that. In my mind, it would be torture seeing strangers the rest of my life and wondering if it was my kid.
The procedure went smoothly. When it was finished I started to cry and the counselor who was holding my hand said, "Are those tears of sadness or of relief?" Without hesitation, I said, "Relief."
I immediately got on the Pill and stayed on it for about 15 years. I tried at every GYN appointment to get my tubes tied but no doctor would do it because you had to have had at least a couple of kids first to "prove" something. I don't know what I was supposed to be proving.
Finally, when I was in my 30s, my new gyn agreed to tie my tubes. I love that man!
I am sick of people acting like women don't know what they want or are incapable of deciding for themselves. I knew I did not want kids as a teenager, both from babysitting and having a dysfunctional mother who complained about having children as long as I can remember. Interestingly, none of my siblings have had kids either and that is a good thing, I believe.
I love other people's babies and some kids, but I would not have made a good parent. I refused to have a kid if it was not 100 percent wanted. There are way too many kids who come into the world because the woman "happened" to get pregnant. To me THAT is morally wrong. They can't afford them, the parents are often on drugs or otherwise emotionally ill-equipped to raise children. Or all of the above. It is wrong for them to bring kids into that situation.
I don't consider myself selfish and I don't care if anyone things I am. But why would being "selfish" about something on the magnitude of having a kid be wrong? To me, that is the ultimate in thoughtfulness—knowing what you are or are not capable of and choosing to not have a kid if you don't feel you can be the best parent possible for that child?
Since I don't have kids, when I die, I plan to leave what money I may have to Planned Parenthood to help pay for abortions for women who can't other wise afford them. No matter what the fanatics want to believe, they cannot stop a desperate woman. The only question is how many women will die from illegal abortions, not IF they will. But they don't care about women's lives.
The only regret I have about the whole thing is that my parents had to find out. Luckily, I had a good guy friend who was very supportive of me during the entire situation.
I never told the "father." It was none of his business, couldn't have changed my mind, and I wanted him to stay out of my life.
(NOTE: Please do not use my personal email or real name. You can use the name "Gloria." I am trying to find a job in a conservative area and I know I am already pushing it by "liking" all the Planned Parenthood posts on Facebook!)
Bullied Into an Abortion
Two readers open up about their abusive relationships. The first:
I was 18 years old and had broke up with my boyfriend. I had not been with anyone else, so to be rebellious, I took up with a man 17 years older than myself. Within six months I was pregnant and devastated. I was young, on birth control, not financially stable, and definitely not ready to be a mother. I told him and he was supportive but suggested abortion. I did not want children and agreed.
It was such an emotional roller coaster at the time. I couldn't bring myself to make the appointment for three weeks. When I finally did, they made me wait. The initial appointment led us to discover that I was further along than we first thought, and too far along to have an abortion in the state I reside. I was told to jump on a plane to have one in a different state. I was lost and didn't have the guidance or family support that was needed.
I decided to keep her. We had our daughter and I do not regret my decision. What I regret is the man I chose to have her with.
Within a matter of months of her birth, he changed and drank. I was left home with a newborn all night while he partied. His drug and alcohol abuse, domestic violence, and cheating escalated, taking a toll on my mental health.
I did my best and I tried. Through family pressure, I married him when our daughter was nine months old. I locked myself in the bathroom on my wedding day and cried while everyone begged me to continue and told me it was right for my daughter. I downed some expensive champagne and walked down the aisle. I regretted every moment.
I knew our marriage was a bomb; I just didn't know when it would explode. The destructive behaviors escalated. I left him many times, but like abusers do, he dragged me back with sweet talk and promises. Those promises were empty, and many scary drunken nights followed.
During a period of time that I left (a few weeks), his father passed away. We rekindled, grieved, and became pregnant again. This time he was having a fully committed secret relationship with another woman, using a large amount of steroids, and had full control of every part of my life. He and his mother forced me to have an abortion through mental and verbal abuse, and guilt.
At the age 20, I had an abortion that I was not ready for and I did not want. It was devastating. I AM pro-choice, but this was not my choice.
The other reader has a similarly tragic tale:
Your series has been very enlightening. I am a married woman in my 50s. I had an abortion when I was 19. Had I been given a safe alternative, I would have had and kept that child.
I lived with what I thought would be my future husband. My mistake was in thinking he ever wanted more than a housemate. I found out I was pregnant and immediately disclosed it, even though I was terrified. He was already abusive. It was MY fault—not his; he didn't make it happen, and seemingly it was immaculate conception.
He had refused to let me take birth control, which cost money he was unwilling to provide. This was also a man who refused to let me use my own paycheck to buy new bras or underwear.
I was told if I had the child, he would kill us both, and he made no qualms about showing me what a good beating would cost us both. I made the choice.
That said, I also left him, as soon as I was able to get to my own feet and finances. He took everything I had and made sure I couldn't leave. I got lucky, later. I was fortunate that we were in California and this was in the late '70s. An abortion and birth control clinic was nearby and reasonably priced. I was 13 weeks when I finally found my way there.
It broke my heart. It still breaks my heart. While I knew it was for the best, and for the safety of myself and my child, I also knew I would pay for it personally, emotionally, spiritually and physically. And I did. It was horrible. I became terrified of needles and anything related to doctors.
He made fun of me, as I cried over the whole thing. I spent weeks in pain afterwards. My heart never healed. To this day, I still think of what that precious soul would be like today, then I wonder if He/She would even be alive, or have been murdered at the hands of its "Father."
That man, who was brother to one of my then-closest friend, came over after my first child was born. He had the balls to look at me, smile, and say "that could have been ours, if you would've kept it." May Satan enjoy HIS soul for that!
I did get past the abortion, and over it—as much as possible, I suppose. I married a couple years later to a man who is still my husband. We have three beautiful children, after MANY miscarriages and losses due to that one abortion. While the clinic did a good job, I suppose, I can't say that our losses weren't due to that. I just don't know.
I have spent the remaining years of my life trying desperately to have healthy children and give them everything that I would have given to that precious child I was unable to keep.
An Abortion at Nearly 24 Weeks
That's the legal limit of viability in most U.S. states. This anguished reader went right up to that line:
I was 19 years old at the time and a sophomore in college. I was on a full athletic scholarship and we were in the middle of our season. I was on the birth control pill and would use it to skip periods. Also, being a college athlete, my periods were not very regular as it was. I bled a little and was confused, as I was taking the pill that should have prevented it at the time. I told my boyfriend that I thought I might be pregnant, so we took a pregnancy test and it came back negative. What a relief!
Two weeks later, I began having symptoms and decided to take another test on my own. This time I took it first thing in the morning and it came back positive.
I was shocked. My first call was to my boyfriend; the second phone call was to schedule an appointment at an abortion clinic. There were no other options in mind. Our relationship was not stable, mature, or healthy. I would lose my scholarship and could not afford college on my own. This was not the right time in so many ways.
My boyfriend drove me to the appointment but waited in the car. I walked up to the door on my own and protestors were yelling horrible things at me. There were posters with aborted fetuses and other terrible images. As if this wasn't already difficult, these insensitive people wanted to make it worst. This made me want to go through with this even more, just to spite them and their actions.
The waiting room was just as cold as the receptionist who never even made eye contact with me as I checked in. All of the women in the room looked down at their feet, ashamed. When I was finally called back, it was a relief just to get out of the room.
The first part was an ultrasound, and I was not even given the option to look at the screen; it was turned away from me. I remember the look on her face and how it immediately told me something wrong. She looked at me and said, "I am sorry, Hun. You are too far along for us to do anything here today. Would you like to speak to one of our counselors?"
I was adamant that I could only be a few weeks, since an earlier test was negative. I spoke to a counselor about my options for a late-term abortion and was told I was 22 weeks along, even I wasn't showing, didn't feel any movement, and had hardly any symptoms.
There was a feeling of disbelief, helplessness, and hurt. I walked back out to the parking lot and called my boyfriend to come back. A protestor came up, now showing some compassion, and told me that I didn't have to have an abortion. Through tears I explained to this middle-aged man that he couldn't possibly understand what I was going through, that I was further along than what I thought and couldn't do it. He gave me pamphlets on government programs that would assist me with a child.
My boyfriend and I cried in the car. We contemplated keeping the baby, but decided that it wasn't the right time for either of us and called another clinic that did late-term abortions. I would have to go in the next week, since after that I would be over the 24-week limit.
We borrowed money from friends to pay for the two-day procedure that had taken place on Friday and Saturday, both game days for my team. I would have this procedure done in the morning and return to my team that evening, pretending as if nothing was out of the ordinary, to play in our games.
On the first day I was awake and remember the doctor shoving sticks into my vagina to make me dilate. It was uncomfortable, but bearable. When I got home I was in immense pain and cried in a bathtub of warm water.
The following day I returned, and while in the waiting room, I struck up a conversation with another patient. I ended the conversation when she said, "I am not like you other girls. I actually want my baby, but there is a medical condition and my doctor is making me do this."
I was taken into another cold room, put in the stirrups and put to sleep for the procedure. I woke up feeling relieved that it was all over.
That night, I almost passed out during my game, but thankfully I didn't. This would have given away my secret for sure.
I graduated college and went on to get my masters. I am no longer with that boyfriend and now in a very successful job. I have a wonderful husband who knows nothing about my abortion, because I am too ashamed to tell him.
I have never forgotten that baby, and there is not a day that goes by that I do not feel sorrow and regret for what I did. I think about how the baby was aborted and if it felt any pain. Was it a male or female? Who's to say that my life wouldn't have ended up just as a great or even better had I given that baby a chance at life? That innocent baby did not deserve the pain I put it through and my heart hurts so much.
If I could go back, I would. None of this was explained to me at the time, and I must live with this for the rest of my life. When my first child was born, I looked at him and realized he had sibling. This caused some severe depression, memories taking me back to that time, and a huge feeling of guilt. I felt unworthy of such a beautiful child and second chance.
3:36 PM / February 4, 2016
Abortion as a Weapon in a Custody Battle
A reader experienced it with her parents:
I recently started reading your series about abortions, and while I have never had one, I would like to share some things. When my mother and father initially got together, she became pregnant and ended up having an abortion. After my parents married, had us kids, then divorced, my father tried everything he could to gain custody of my sister and me. What did would haunt my sister forever.
She was barely 10 years old when he took her aside to say her mom had killed her brother or sister, and did she really want to live with someone like that? Needless to say, my sister was distraught, didn't fully understand, and my mother was furious. At the time, my father was in agreement with the abortion and now he was trying to use it against my mother.
It wasn't until years later that I asked my mom about it. She said the abortion was the hardest thing she had ever done. But she didn't regret it, because if she had had that baby, she would have realized what kind of man my father was sooner and thus would have left him sooner and wouldn't have my sister and me.
Because of what my father did, I have always believed in a woman's choice. I have suffered the lose of two of my own children naturally, but I still believe in a woman's choice. That surprises people; they seem to think that since I have suffered heartbreaking loss, that I would be against abortion. But if my mom had not had one, I would not be here, nor would my son.
And it goes back to a conversation I had with my mom as a teen, that mothers never forget no matter what they show the world. It is not a decision done lightly, and they are doing what they believe is the hardest but best choice. And with loss can also come great joy.
Facing Abortion as a Native American
A reader provides an anecdotal look, and I added some statistics:
Coming from a native American reservation, where the drop-out rate is about 50 percent and teen pregnancy is high [see above], I felt pretty accomplished being in the city and in college. So when I got pregnant, my life was over, or so I thought.
I told my then-boyfriend, now husband, and he was beyond happy. In the following days and weeks we talked of things like names and outfits—the easy stuff. Then, reality set in. I'd have to move home. It being on a reservation with very little resources, I had no idea who'd care for my child. I'd have to give up school until I was financially stable to return.
I remember talking with my boyfriend about abortion and how it was the right thing to do, doing everything to justify my reasons. He supported me from the beginning. The next day I changed my mind and decided to take life by the horns and raise this child. But the following day I wasn't ready to be a mother.
This was an ongoing pattern for almost two months. Feeling depressed and losing my hair from the stress, I decided to walk into a clinic to see what my options were. I can't remember the doctor's name for the life of me, but she made me feel comfortable almost immediately. She never persuaded me, but instead listened. I made an appointment that day.
After leaving the clinic I went to the nearest Dairy Queen and spent the last of my money on a milkshake. For the first time in weeks, I felt like I could breathe.
The following week I had my abortion. In the waiting room there was a young girl no older than 16 who cried every two minutes. Her boyfriend, much older than her, told her to stop crying, not being very supportive. I remember sitting there feeling so sorry for her.
In the "surgery room" I remember asking the nurse if she was okay. She reassured me that she was and that she was just "young." I still think of her.
Next week marks one year. It's something I do not regret, although I feel guilty about it from time to time. I know I couldn't have cared for my child the way he or she deserved. All I know is that I'm very fortunate to have walked into a clinic without having to fight protestors to get to the door.
For more background on how abortion affects Native American women, see this FAQ from Carafem, an abortion center in Washington, D.C.:
In the ongoing conversation about abortion, indigenous Americans are oftentimes left out. This is a pretty glaring oversight, since Native American women are over-represented in abortion statistics. … Native American women experience a higher rate of unintended pregnancy than their Caucasian counterparts. These disproportionately high unintended pregnancy rates may lead to more abortions.
Poverty, discrimination, and violence all contribute to an environment that does not support Native American women's ability to fully control their reproductive health. Indigenous American women have experienced (and continue to experience) harsh mistreatment – from forced sterilization to persistently high rates of rape and sexual assault in their communities. They continue to face barriers that are rooted in historical abuse, lack of resources, and contemporary misunderstanding. Since Native American populations were targeted during the eugenics movement, it is understandable that any conversation around reproductive justice for this population is fraught with cultural trauma and suspicion.
How does this all relate to abortion access?
Federal policies have a disproportionate impact on indigenous American women's ability to access abortion, since abortions are not performed on reservations. Income inequality and poverty make it even harder for many Native American women to get the care they need. Add to that the fact that the Indian Health Service is non-compliant with its own abortion policy in many of its clinics, and the indigenous American community is neglected and left without reproductive healthcare options. Teenage pregnancy and unintended pregnancy rates continue to increase, signaling that this is an important issue to address.
Abortion as Birth Control
That's what this reader perceived among her fellow patients:
I have something called secondary infertility. I was able to have some normal pregnancies resulting in live, healthy births. But we wanted our family to grow and that's when my problems began. Everything would be fine until weeks 11 - 15. Then the baby would stop thriving and die in utero. The medical term for this is "missed abortion." Usually after a few days, a woman has a miscarriage but sometimes labor needs to be induced. Regardless, a D&C is in order. So on top of a "missed abortion," a woman must go through what is essentially an abortion procedure (albeit with a fetus that's already dead). I lost several babies this way.
I remember being in an outpatient surgical center affiliated with a local hospital. I was in a waiting room filled with women who were aborting their babies by choice. Many of these women were Russian emigres who used abortion as a form of birth control. That was perhaps the most painful thing for me: desperately wanting a child, not wanting to go through this procedure, and sitting in a room full of women whose babies I would have eagerly welcomed for adoption but who were destined to be killed that day.
These women showed no emotion. They discussed their nails, their hair, and other trite subjects as though it was just another day. I was trying so hard to have a baby, and they were so dismissive of their own, like their babies were something frivolous. It just about killed me.
This next reader also had a miscarriage and consequently struggles with her pro-choice stance:
While I was losing my babies around the six-week mark, many women across the U.S. were heading into clinics to voluntarily terminate their pregnancies. I find it striking how the exact same process—the loss of a growing embryo or fetus—can evoke such different reactions and understandings.
Ask any woman who has lost a wanted pregnancy: A miscarriage is an absolutely agonizing experience. Most women strongly identify their lost little ball of cells as a baby, not some impersonal collection of DNA. To watch your little one slip away before you even knew him or her is one of the most heartbreaking and isolating experiences for a woman. You are left dealing with the physical aftermath for days, and you watch other pregnant women happily waddle by in the grocery store as you continue to bleed from your loss. You put on fake smiles as people ask you when you want to have a baby, completely unaware that you just lost yours a few days prior.
The psychological effects never really leave. Most mothers will never forget her missing little one(s), and for many the hurt is still there even decades later. I know women who went on to have many healthy children but still get emotional when they talk about their loss. Having healthy babies doesn't make you forget.
Compare this to the experience of many who voluntarily seek abortions. Some women are filled with guilt and regret, but as your reader series has shown, many (if not most) are very relieved and thankful. For these women, the loss of the embryo or fetus made their life better, happier even. Many of these women do not identify the lost ball of cells as an actual baby. This makes sense, given that it is much easier to terminate an impersonal clump of cells than something you consider to be an actual child.
When a woman refuses to look at an ultrasound prior to termination (and when pro-choice advocates fight against mandatory ultrasounds), it is to preserve this distance between the woman and the contents of her uterus. Ironically, many of these same women do go on to have other children whom they love very much.
The two experiences could not be more different, and yet they are identical in their outcome: The woman is no longer pregnant. It seems as if the act of wanting the pregnancy is what makes the difference. Wanted pregnancies have "real" children—growing babies with personalities and spirits. Unwanted pregnancies don't involve children at all, and are just a biological consequence of a biological act.
I am reminded of that scene in the movie Knocked Up, where the main character tells her mother about the unexpected pregnancy. The older woman responds that her sister had an abortion and then went on to have a "real" baby. I think this scene sums up the confusing pro-choice vs. pro-life debate regarding personhood absolutely perfectly:
As someone who is pro-choice and experienced with miscarriage and healthy pregnancy/childbirth, I do find it hard to square my emotional feelings with my pro-choice beliefs. Before I became a mother, I was very much in the "embryos are just cells" camp. If you wanted or needed to terminate, go for it. But after getting pregnant, and then miscarrying, I realized that I didn't view that little ball of cells as a useless clump of matter. I viewed it as a baby. I had lost my baby. And I was heartbroken.
This puts me in a tough place. I do not view my miscarried baby as any less "real" than my living, breathing, smiling infant who now sits in front of me. So how can I claim to believe that a woman who terminates her pregnancy is not terminating an actual child? It was so much easier to just be aggressively pro-choice before I actually had to confront this moral ambiguity in my own life.
If I dismiss my miscarriage as not the loss of a baby, but just a clump of cells, I dismiss that child's importance and my own pain over the loss. But if I wholeheartedly accept that the embryo was just as valuable and important as my living daughter, then I must admit that when I say I am pro-choice, I am actually supporting the termination of children and not just some silly cells. I would be advocating not really for abortion, but for something more along the lines of medical infanticide.
So yes, I am certainly pro-choice, but my experience with my own loss has made me more understanding of why so many are very much against abortion. Now I can no longer hang my pro-choice feelings on some argument of mortality, personhood, and the dismissal of the rights of an embryo or fetus. Instead, I support choice for purely pragmatic reasons. History has shown that nothing good happens when women do not have access to safe abortion procedures. [CB note: see this reader's story of a DIY abortion gone horribly wrong.] Women will terminate if they want to, so we might as well make it safe for them. It may not be morally right, but it is necessary.
Update from a reader:
I know that you wrote that this was how she "perceived" her fellow patients, but was there more to the original email? [CB: Nope] Does she have any confirmation for her, frankly, damning statements? Some questions:
- How does she know that these women were "aborting their babies by choice" as opposed to some medical condition etc. After all, SHE wasn't aborting by choice, but she was in the same room.
- How does she know that the Russian emigres specifically are using abortion as birth control?
- How does she know that everyone in the room is even getting an abortion? They don't announce the procedure when they call someone into the doctor's office and everywhere I know of the performs abortions also provides numerous other services.
- Does she really think public waiting room conversations are an accurate gauge of how women feel about something? Was she openly weeping and telling everyone her story while in the waiting room?
I don't ask these questions to rag on the writer, but rather I think it should be pointed out how easily we accept other people's assumptions and judgments about a situation. It's very common, even for women who are getting abortions to assume that they are there for the "right" reasons, while everyone else in the room is morally inferior. That's what seems to be happening here. See also the essay, "The only moral abortion is my abortion."
'I Got Down to the Basement and Blood Was Everywhere'
A reader shares a gruesome experience that took place six years prior to Roe vs. Wade:
I am not using my name because my kids don't know about this, and there's no reason for them to know. In the spring of 1967, I discovered that the woman I had been with all winter long was pregnant. I was 19 at the time and she was 28, with three kids. She was recently divorced and for some reason we seemed to get along—so much so that we had sex pretty much all the time. It never occurred to me that she was not using birth control. After all, she had been a married woman, and I was a child of the '60s; I knew all about the pill (or so I thought) and so I assumed she was using it.
But when she told me that she was pregnant, I was stunned. How could that be? "Well, I'm not using any birth control." You're what? I was flabbergasted. But you had been married for seven or eight years. "Yes, but he always pulled out—except for the three times I got pregnant."
Wow. She said she wanted an abortion. I didn't, but it wasn't my choice. I am adopted and have always deal with feeling of abandonment. My adopted mom had died the year before, and the thought of not doing whatever my girlfriend wanted never occurred to me. I asked a friend of mine if he knew where I could take her to get an abortion. He thought maybe Sioux Falls. We lived in Vermillion, South Dakota, so that made sense. Of course abortion would not be legal for another six years. The cost? We didn't know but we thought maybe $300. Which I didn't have.
So, at the time, it seemed like the only option was to do it myself.
This was 49 years ago, and I still can hardly type this. I won't go into the details—suffice it to say, it was awful. As terrible as anything you might imagine.
She did not lose the baby, but a few days later, she had an infection and almost died from the loss of blood. When she started to bleed, it was in the basement of the university theatre. She had been gone for quite a while, and I went to the stairs to ask if she was alright. She asked me to come down. I got down there and blood was everywhere. She had her legs up on a toilet, and thought that this would stop the bleeding.
I freaked, and said we had to get a doctor. I don't remember exactly what happened, but the ambulance came, took her to the hospital, and the fetus and a giant blood clot came out. She told me to stay away and not be around, because they would figure out what had happened, and I would probably be arrested. So I left.
She was in the hospital for a few days, and when she got out, I went to see her. She told me that her babysitter had told her that she would have adopted the baby. The doctor said he knew what had happened, but there was nothing to be done. She was very lucky to be alive.
I have always supported a woman's right to choose. I still do, even though I wish that hadn't been her choice. And I still mourn the loss of that baby.
'Abortion Is Not Solely a Woman's Story,' Cont'd
Another guy steps forward:
When you asked for more stories of men's experience with abortion, I felt comfortable with sharing. I initially didn't want to intrude in this space. I am 30 years old and my wife is 27. We have been married for five years. My wife had an abortion in the fall of 2015 because we got careless with birth control.
After a light menstrual period that turned out to just be spotting, and another missed period, she took a pregnancy test while I was in class and it came out positive. When I came home, she burst into tears, and we held each other and wept in our kitchen.
That night, she called Planned Parenthood to make an appointment. Even in a state without barriers to reproductive health it took almost two weeks to get an appointment for the procedure. With how emotionally draining this was, I can't begin to grasp how difficult it would be in a state with a waiting period, having to be treated as if you don't have the capacity to grasp the gravity of the situation.
Once we confirmed that she was pregnant, we couldn't overlook the physical and emotional changes and we were raw with grief. We didn't feel that we could tell our families for emotional support because her side is extremely Catholic and her mom got pregnant with her older brother at 18, which 35 years later is still contentious for the family. We told a few of our friends but still felt like there was this dark cloud following us around for the 10 days until the appointment.
We were both anxious about what to say at work regarding the day we would need to take off. My wife teaches at a Catholic school, which compounded the anxiety. What if someone found out? She's not protected by a union because it's a private school and they could fire her on moral grounds.
The emotional turmoil was unbelievable. We discussed so many times if there was any other option and we just kept coming up with a firm no.
On the day of her appointment, it was rainy and cold. There was only one protester outside of the clinic. The staff was kind and comforting. I felt helpless because I was not allowed in for the initial examination or the procedure. I completely understand why, but I just wanted to be there for my wife.
When it was over and she was recovering we knew that it was the right decision for us and that the timing wasn't right. We still grieved the decision.
It was not an easy choice to make, but we both feel that it was the morally right decision. We want to have kids some day. But while she was unaware that she was pregnant, we were acting like our normal selves. We had wine with dinner, went out for drinks with friends, and had attended a wedding that had an open bar. Why would we knowingly bring a child into the world that already has two strikes against it developmentally?
Thank you for this project; it is so necessary. Please, if you decide to use this, I would like to be kept anonymous.
All of our posted emails are kept anonymous unless otherwise requested (which also helps with the editing process). A huge thanks to this reader and so many others who have written in, even if we don't have the space to publish your story. This abortion series, by the way, has been leading TheAtlantic.com all day today, which I think is a huge testament to the humanity of your stories and the skill of your writing, as well as all the smart, thoughtful, and provocative emails that come through the hello@ account every day.
Coincidentally, regarding this reader's concern about his wife drinking while unknowingly pregnant, Olga and Julie just posted a piece scrutinizing yesterday's new guidelines from the CDC advising doctors to "recommend birth control to women who are having sex (if appropriate), not planning to get pregnant, and drinking alcohol" in an effort to prevent fetal alcohol syndrome. Check it out.
More Notes
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Tom McTague
All is not lost; the future is not set.
In Disney's latest blockbuster, Encanto, a magical family called the Madrigals have escaped the violence and chaos of their homeland by crossing a river into an enchanted paradise that endows each with wondrous gifts that they use to protect and enhance their community. As the generations go by, however, the magic of the new world starts to fade and the family buckles under the pressure of their responsibilities while struggling to maintain the illusion that everything is fine. One grandchild, we learn, has no gift at all; another worries that she cannot keep up the appearance of perfection that is crushing her from the inside out; while another, still, panics that she is losing her superhuman strength. Luisa, the strong one, sings out her fears:
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Why Making Friends in Midlife Is So Hard
Katharine Smyth
I thought I was done dating. But after moving across the country, I had to start again—this time, in search of platonic love.
Thirty-seven minutes after sitting down to lunch, Francesca and I hugged goodbye in a strip-mall parking lot. We were both fairly certain, I think, that we would not be seeing each other again. The high-school classmate of a friend's friend's husband, she'd been such a promising friendship prospect: She was a professional violinist and fellow New Yorker who was writing her dissertation on pollen. But I was awkward, smiling too much and saying things like "That's so funny" in lieu of actual laughter, while Francesca (not her real name) was overworked and seemed full of derision for Bozeman, Montana, the town to which I had just moved, and from which she and her husband were determined to flee.
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How Long Does Omicron Take to Make You Sick?
The new variant seems to be our quickest one yet. That makes it harder to catch with the tests we have.
It certainly might not seem like it given the pandemic mayhem we've had, but the original form of SARS-CoV-2 was a bit of a slowpoke. After infiltrating our bodies, the virus would typically brew for about five or six days before symptoms kicked in. In the many months since that now-defunct version of the virus emerged, new variants have arrived to speed the timeline up. Estimates for this exposure-to-symptom gap, called the incubation period, clocked in at about five days for Alpha and four days for Delta. Now word has it that the newest kid on the pandemic block, Omicron, may have ratcheted it down to as little as three.
If that number holds, it's probably bad news. These trimmed-down cook times are thought to play a major part in helping coronavirus variants spread: In all likelihood, the shorter the incubation period, the faster someone becomes contagious—and the quicker an outbreak spreads. A truncated incubation "makes a virus much, much, much harder to control," Jennifer Nuzzo, an epidemiologist at the Johns Hopkins Center for Health Security, told me.
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Ronald Brownstein
A nationwide standard of voting rights now seems like a pipe dream.
The decision by Senators Kyrsten Sinema and Joe Manchin to block their fellow Democrats from passing new federal voting-rights legislation clears the path for years of tightening ballot restrictions in Republican-controlled states. It also marks a resounding triumph for Chief Justice John Roberts in his four-decade quest to roll back the federal government's role in protecting voter rights.
Roberts as much as anyone set in motion the events that have led to this week's climactic Senate confrontation over voting legislation. In a series of rulings over the past 15 years, the Supreme Court, often in decisions written by Roberts himself, has consistently weakened federal oversight of voter protections and struck down federal regulations meant to reduce the influence of money in politics. Almost all of those decisions have unfolded on a strict party-line basis, with the Republican-appointed justices outvoting those appointed by Democrats.
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