After the election, my mom confided in me about how terrified she was and shared her own experience seeking an abortion after a miscarriage. 

“It was after I had you and before I had your brother,” she told me. “My body didn’t recognize that it was dead.”

A miscarriage in which the body does not recognize the pregnancy loss or expel the fetal matter is sometimes referred to as a missed or silent miscarriage. Continuing to carry is dangerous and can be fatal to the mother if left untreated.

“I was given medication that was supposed to abort the fetus through inducing heavy cramping,” she said. “But for whatever reason, it didn’t work. I didn’t have the cramps, and the fetus remained a hazard to my health. At that point, my doctor said I needed to have a full abortion procedure before it became too late. I was able to, and then a year later, I had your brother. 

“I keep thinking if that happened today, to me, or you, or any of our loved ones, it wouldn’t have been that simple,” she said. “Abortions restrictions could have put me or the doctor in jail, even though it was for my own safety.”

Indeed, since the U.S. Supreme Court overturned the Roe v. Wade precedent that protected women’s right to an abortion in 2022, 13 states have enacted total or near-total bans, with eight others enacting bans from anywhere after 6-18 weeks. These bans include medication abortions, like the one my mom tried, that are often used in instances of miscarriage.

ProPublica reported on Nov. 23 that a third woman had died under Texas’ abortion ban. Such bans and restrictions have made doctors fearful to perform necessary treatment, opting to instead reach for riskier treatments or send patients elsewhere.

Following the death of Amber Thurman, a young Georgia resident, after miscarriage complications, Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz pointed out in the 2024 vice presidential debate, “How can we as a nation say that your life and your rights, as basic as the right to control your own body, is determined on geography? There’s a very real chance, had Amber Thurman lived in Minnesota, she would be alive today.”

With Trump set to take office Jan. 20, along with a Republican majority in the U.S. House, Senate, and Supreme Court, access to reproductive health care is bound to become stricter and more unforgiving.

Trump has often flouted that he was the one to kill Roe v. Wade, and Republican lawmakers were quick to establish abortion bans and blocks in the aftermath.

My mom pointed out that if — for whatever reason, under whatever circumstance — I came to need abortion care myself, she would plan for us to fly to Colorado, California, or even Canada if need be. She said she was comforted by the fact that we would be able to do so. 

But this isn’t the case for many women across the country.

Although reproductive health care restrictions present dangers and difficulties for all women able to become pregnant, they disproportionately impact certain demographics, namely impoverished and minority women as well as transmen and nonbinary people, immigrants, adolescents, and people living with disabilities.

Pre-existing inequities in health care insurance and access, income, and health provider bias are only exasperated by further restrictions.

Already, the maternal mortality rate for Black women is nearly three times higher than the rate for white women. 

The Emma Goldman Clinic, a nonprofit reproductive health care organization in Iowa City, acknowledges on its website that “access to sexual information and birth control devices is a problem, particularly for teenagers and those who are poor or live in rural areas.”

Even just within city or state limits, if an individual lacks the means, time, or ability, the prospects of seeking reproductive health care diminish. This issue is only further exacerbated if people must travel across one or more states. Many women cannot just pick up and fly across the country to find care.

Forcing women to carry a pregnancy to term when they are emotionally, physically, financially, or otherwise unable to do so traps them. It discourages women from pursuing what they planned to — whether that be earning a degree, working, or even caring for current children. It limits hopes of mobility and independence. It can keep women who are already impoverished or disadvantaged stuck in that position. 

Reproductive health care restrictions are a means of controlling women, an idea exemplified by the explosion of social media posts from far-right extremists following the 2024 presidential election stating, “Your body, my choice,” and “Get back in the kitchen.”

Women have different approaches to family planning. Not all women want children. Whatever choice they make or decision they come to, it should never be forcibly imposed onto them.

Despite the common pro-life argument that women could choose to put the child up for adoption, there is a false mirage in the adoption counter.

An analysis published as part of a five-year Turnaway study found that one week after being denied an abortion, 14 percent of 231 study participants reported plans to place the baby for adoption or were considering it as an option. Only 9 percent of the 161 who went on to give birth — 15 women — ended up placing their newborns for adoption.

It’s incredibly difficult for a woman to go nine months carrying a child, birth it, see this part of her that she has created, and then give it away — even if all reason and logic point toward it being the better option. Guilt and a sense of responsibility also factor in. Adoption is much easier said or theorized than done.

While this fact may circle back to the pro-life claim that it’s simply better for the woman to keep and raise the child than any of the alternatives, doing so does not circumvent the initial reasoning and factors that argue otherwise. 

The women that go through this process often remain mentally or physically unfit or financially unable to support a child. Many children may later end up in the overwhelmed and abusive foster care system when their parents are no longer able to put up with the costs and stresses of raising a child. 

“Their children will languish in the system, and the cycle will continue,” Stacey Reynolds, a former longtime board member for the National Council for Adoption, said in a Washington Post article.

It rather seems that the so-called “pro-lifers” are, in reality, only pro-birthers, for they do nothing for women or children once babies are born. 

Few have adopted or fostered children or invested any money — personally or through legislation — into these systems. They continue to vote against public education and universal health care while advocating for the death penalty. And no matter how much they may claim to champion pro-life ideals, the  overwhelmingly male  politicians responsible for abortions bans and restrictions will never face such fear or uncertainty. They have the money and means to access abortion and contraception for their girlfriends, wives, and mistresses as needed.

Although the election may be over, our fight to regain and retain bodily autonomy and the right to choose is just getting started. We will not be complicit.