{"id":576,"date":"2025-04-17T19:05:56","date_gmt":"2025-04-17T19:05:56","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.habitaliaimobiliaria.com\/?p=576"},"modified":"2025-04-20T08:27:38","modified_gmt":"2025-04-20T08:27:38","slug":"my-abortion-was-my-lifeline-getting-it-felt-like-a-battle-for-survival","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.habitaliaimobiliaria.com\/index.php\/2025\/04\/17\/my-abortion-was-my-lifeline-getting-it-felt-like-a-battle-for-survival\/","title":{"rendered":"My Abortion Was My Lifeline\u2014Getting It Felt Like A Battle For Survival"},"content":{"rendered":"
As soon as I found out I was pregnant, I knew I wanted an abortion<\/a>. The immediate decision didn\u2019t come from fear or confusion; it came from clarity. I was too sick to work, constantly running out of my classes to throw up and juggling multiple jobs<\/a> to stay afloat. Behind all of that was a mental health battle<\/a> I\u2019d been quietly fighting for years, and I didn\u2019t have access to the support<\/a> I needed. There was no way I could carry this pregnancy to term\u2014and, more importantly, I didn\u2019t want to. It was my body<\/a>. It was my life, and I made my decision. It really should have been that simple. But almost immediately, I learned how hard it was to access abortion care.<\/p>\n This is America, after all \u2014 where racist, sexist policies are so deeply embedded into our institutions<\/a> that they shape who gets access to essential care and who gets left behind. And for folks most impacted by systemic inequities\u2014like disparities in income, health insurance and medical racism\u2014no one is facing the brunt of these bans and restrictions like Black women<\/a>. We\u2019re already more likely to die from pregnancy-related causes or suffer physical and mental health complications. Forcing us to carry a pregnancy to term isn\u2019t just a denial of our rights\u2014it\u2019s a direct threat to our lives.<\/p>\n Because of the abortion restrictions in my state at the time\u2014and a deeply hostile access landscape\u2014getting my abortion turned into a lengthy, complicated process. My appointments had to be split into two parts: the first was \u201coptions counseling,\u201d and the second was the actual procedure. On top of that, there was a mandatory 24-hour waiting period between visits. I was attending school <\/a>in a very rural part of Ohio, an hour and a half from the nearest abortion clinic and three hours from my hometown. I didn\u2019t have a car and was too sick to drive anyway. I was at everyone\u2019s mercy to get to my appointments. I felt complete desperation and helplessness.<\/p>\n By the time I sat down in the clinic for my abortion, it had been an entire month since I first sought care, and I was exhausted. It was thirteen weeks of vomiting, sleepless nights and the slow, glooming dread that I might not make it through this.\u00a0I hadn\u2019t kept down a full meal in weeks. I couldn\u2019t even hold down my morning coffee, and I couldn\u2019t imagine being pregnant <\/a>for one more day. I just wanted out of my body. When the procedure was finally over, I was the most grateful I\u2019d ever felt. I could\u2019ve kissed the ground because my future had been returned to me.<\/p>\n Like so many others across the country, I was living in one of the many states actively determined to ban or restrict our reproductive rights\u2014a human rights offense that disproportionately impacts Black women and birthing people. More than 57% of Black women\u2014roughly 7 million of reproductive age<\/a>\u2014live in states with abortion bans or severe restrictions. Horrifically, many of these same states also report some of the highest maternal mortality rates in the country. In my home state of Ohio, a 2023 study<\/a> showed that Black women are five times more likely to die from pregnancy-related causes than women in other states.<\/p>\n Let that sink in: Five times<\/em> more likely to die.<\/p>\n What\u2019s more, states with restrictive abortion laws are more likely to be maternity care deserts with fewer maternity care resources, weaker Medicaid coverage, fewer clinics and less access to OB\/GYNs. These combined factors create a terrifying container for the Black maternal health crisis in America. Nationally, Black women and birthing people are three times more likely to die from pregnancy-related causes than white women, according to the CDC.<\/a> Why? Not because of biology\u2014but because of systematic racism<\/a>. These outcomes are driven by income disparities, medical bias and insurance gaps. The message is devastatingly clear: Black women cannot afford to be denied abortion care.<\/p>\n This is America, after all \u2014 where racist, sexist policies are so deeply embedded into our institutions that they shape who gets access to essential care and who gets left behind.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/figure>\n These bans have immediate, deadly consequences for Black women and our families<\/a>.<\/p>\n In August of 2022, Amber Nicole Thurman<\/a>, a 28-year-old student and mother, died in Georgia after being denied a simple dilation and curettage (D&C) procedure that would have saved her life. A D&C is a routine procedure used in both abortion and miscarriage care. Doctors watched her health deteriorate for 20 hours. Twenty hours of fear and hesitation <\/a>because Georgia\u2019s new felony laws made them too afraid of being prosecuted. When they finally intervened, it was too late.<\/p>\n Just a few months later, another Georgia mother, Candi Miller<\/a>, died in November 2022\u2014also unable to access safe abortion care due to Georgia\u2019s criminalization of D&Cs. She was denied abortion care and denied dignity. Denied life. Legal access to D&Cs has saved countless lives since Roe v. Wade<\/em> was decided in 1973. In fact, studies <\/a>show that the maternal mortality rate for women of color dropped by up to 40% in the year following legalization.<\/p>\n These stories have deeply impacted me because I see myself in them; I see my friends and my family. These women deserved to live, and they deserved compassion, care and agency. When we\u2019re forced to carry pregnancies, we suffer\u2014physically, mentally<\/a>, financially. Our families suffer, too. The ripple effects are enormous. So, how can we address this? There\u2019s no single answer, but a crucial part of addressing Black maternal health inequity is abortion justice.<\/p>\n \u201cWe can\u2019t talk about improving maternal health outcomes for Black women and birthing people without confronting the relentless attacks on abortion access,\u201d says Nourbese Flint, President of All* Above All, a policy organization advancing maternal health equity<\/a> through abortion justice. \u201cThese aren\u2019t just political tactics\u2014they\u2019re racist, classist policies that uphold systems of control and deny us agency over our bodies and our futures.\u201d<\/p>\n Abortion justice\u2014an approach that goes beyond legality\u2014envisions \u201ca world where care is there for everyone who needs it, without barriers based on who you are, where you live, or how much you earn.\u201d That means real access, no questions asked. No traveling across state lines. No fear of prosecution. No trying to decipher legal jargon. No dying because of delayed or denied healthcare\u2014just care.<\/p>\n Centering us means building systems that honor our autonomy, trust our decisions, and make space for us to lead\u2014not just during Black Maternal Health Week, but every single day.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/figure>\n When we can live self-determined lives, we can truly thrive. For me, my abortions gave me the power to determine my future. They allowed me to continue my education and keep the jobs that helped me stay in school. They gave me the space and resources to heal, access mental health care, and, ultimately, escape poverty. Now, I\u2019m in a position to support myself<\/a>\u2014and even my family when needed. I\u2019m an awesome big sister, granddaughter and friend, and I am able to hold space for those I love. These are the titles I cherish. They\u2019re what I need to live a meaningful, healthy life and to give life if I decide to.<\/p>\n In an effort to advance abortion justice as a solution, All* Above All <\/a>launched the Abortion Justice Playbook<\/a><\/strong>\u2014a roadmap to improving maternal health equity through the lens of abortion access. \u201cIt\u2019s about transforming the systems that are failing Black communities<\/a>,\u201d says Flint. \u201cThe Playbook gives advocates, organizers, and policymakers the tools to connect the dots between abortion access and maternal health equity.\u201d<\/p>\n And let\u2019s be clear: Black women and birthing people must be the center of this movement\u2014not just represented, but resourced. Not just heard but trusted<\/em>. As we continue working toward equitable maternal health <\/a>outcomes, we need to be at the front, the center and all sides of the discussion. The conversations must start with our voices, not just include them.<\/p>\n \u201cCentering Black women and birthing people starts with power\u2014not just presence,\u201d Flint reminds us. \u201cIt means resourcing Black-led work, listening to our lived experiences, and ensuring that policies are shaped by our realities\u2014not political compromise. Centering us means building systems that honor our autonomy, trust our decisions<\/a>, and make space for us to lead\u2014not just during Black Maternal Health Week, but every single day.\u201d<\/p>\n Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?<\/strong><\/p>\n I Recognized My Pain Watching The Real Housewives<\/a><\/p>\n Dearica Hamby & The Price of Pregnancy In the WNBA<\/a><\/p>\n Abortion Rights Won In 7 States Last Night<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" As soon as I found out I was pregnant, I knew I wanted an abortion. The immediate decision didn\u2019t come from fear or confusion; it came from clarity. I was too sick to work, constantly running out of my classes to throw up and juggling multiple jobs to stay afloat. Behind all of that was Read More<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":578,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[12],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-576","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fashion"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.habitaliaimobiliaria.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/576","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.habitaliaimobiliaria.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.habitaliaimobiliaria.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.habitaliaimobiliaria.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.habitaliaimobiliaria.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=576"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"http:\/\/www.habitaliaimobiliaria.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/576\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":579,"href":"http:\/\/www.habitaliaimobiliaria.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/576\/revisions\/579"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.habitaliaimobiliaria.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/578"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.habitaliaimobiliaria.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=576"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.habitaliaimobiliaria.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=576"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.habitaliaimobiliaria.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=576"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}\n
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