To the editor:
Let me share a story with you.
It’s March 2023. My son turned 1 earlier that year, and my husband and I are discussing expanding our family. Being a working mom is challenging, and we are just starting to feel comfortable in our home routine, while my career is back on track. My boss reaches out to me about an opportunity to represent our team at a work conference in June. I know I have to say yes and agree.
Then it hits me: the conference is in Austin, Texas—a place I’ve been to a few times before, but now it means something very different. I tell my husband, and we both know that we must put expanding our family on pause.
Why? Because at 38, I’m what they call “advanced maternal age.” It’s better than what it used to be called (geriatric pregnancy, if you’re curious), and at my age, the likelihood of a miscarriage is 1 in 3. That means I have a 33% chance of losing a wanted pregnancy. Though it would be safe for me to travel, it’s no longer safe for me to travel to the state of Texas. If I miscarry in Texas, I would not receive any care unless it’s a “life-threatening condition.” That vague language would leave me at risk of inadequate healthcare. Although I’m a citizen of the United States, the maternal care I would receive in Massachusetts is vastly different from what I would receive in Texas.
Let’s recap:
- This would be a wanted pregnancy.
- There is a higher risk of miscarriage given my age.
- I’m in a lose-lose situation: say no and limit my career growth, or say yes and limit my family growth.
Does that sound like freedom to you?
If you think the Dobbs decision isn’t affecting your neighbors, friends, and community members, you’re wrong. While I hope to never need an abortion, there are circumstances beyond my control where that procedure is the only one that would save my life. Women are waiting in the emergency room, bleeding out, because doctors’ hands are tied. Miscarriage is common (25% of pregnancies), and some of my friends have miscarried late into their pregnancies—5 months, 6 months, and 8 months. I know a woman who lost her son during the labor process.
I have also had a close friend receive the most heartbreaking news: their pregnancy isn’t viable as their child will be born with severe birth defects incompatible with life. They had to decide to end the pregnancy. This was a family who had picked out a name, started decorating a nursery, and received the worst possible news imaginable. Keeping the pregnancy would have put her at greater risk and likely made it harder for her to get pregnant again. While they might consult their parents, doctors, or a spiritual leader, does this decision become any better because the government is mandating it? She lives in Massachusetts, so thankfully she was able to receive an abortion. While she lost her first son, that life-saving care has allowed her to have two more.
Growing up in Massachusetts, I developed a passion for history. I visited Plimoth Plantation as a child and learned about Paul Revere’s ride. I read about Ralph Waldo Emerson, Frederick Douglass, and Henry Thoreau. I studied the Constitution and believe in the promise of America.
The first part of the first sentence of the First Amendment reads as follows: “Congress shall make no law respecting the establishment of a religion…” We often forget that part, instead reciting how the freedoms of the press, speech, assembly, religion, and petition (yes, those are the five!) are granted to us.
I’ll repeat: “Congress shall make no law respecting the establishment of a religion.” While abortion is a moral decision, access to healthcare is not. Religion should not dictate whether a person can access the care they need.
Even with the exceptions provided, mothers will tell you that, just like not all children are the same, not all pregnancies are the same. We romanticize different cravings, laugh at the mood swings, and smile at “what-size-fruit-we-are-this-week.” But if something goes wrong and someone you love needs care, they should be able to get it.
How frustrated would you be if you were having a heart attack and the doctor said, “Well, it’s mild enough right now that life-saving care isn’t necessary. Your blood pressure, while it’s dropping, isn’t below the range where I can act. Why don’t you wait and come back?”
The Dobbs decision gave states the power to decide what freedom women have. My access to healthcare changes depending on what state I’m in. Yes, my freedom changes when I cross state borders. This trickles down exponentially. I now have to decide what work opportunities to pursue as if I’m relocated, which in turn may limit my career growth, net worth, and savings opportunities for my children. I now have to decide if I can travel for family weddings, funerals, and vacations while pregnant—once safe, now not so much. Being a citizen of the United States doesn’t matter anymore.
Just like the Jim Crow laws didn’t work in the South, we see that this reality isn’t working for women. The Republican candidate for vice president is suggesting women take pregnancy tests at state borders. While many are laughing at the absurdity of it, it’s a terrifying proposition.
In school, I recited the Pledge of Allegiance every day, and it bears repeating: “with liberty and justice for all.”
When you vote on Nov. 5, please remember women’s liberty.
Stephanie St. Martin
Lynnfield