Private Matters and Choices

What did the old fashioned feminists and political moderates used to say? That abortion ought to be safe, legal, and rare? Also, that it was a private matter, one for a woman (and in the case of a married woman, she and her husband) to discuss and decide. I remember the conservative politicians in the 1970s that my grandparents and mom supported saying that they were against making laws about such things, because any government that could force you to bring a pregnancy to term would also have the power to forbid you from bringing a pregnancy to term. I don’t tend to talk about Roe v. Wade a lot because it’s a 40-year-old constitutional right that allows women to determine whether or not they will continue pregnancies. But the steady erosion of that lawful right during recent years has been hard to watch.

In fact I think about it all the time, particularly with restrictive laws being proposed and passed throughout America, such as those allowing rapists visitation rights to children they conceived by force and those forbidding girls and women to terminate pregnancies forced on them, even those caused by their own fathers and other family members. But I think about this otherwise private matter more than usual lately because, for the fifth time in 11 years, I am pregnant. This one was a surprise. The others were attempts to have babies with my husband of 16 years. Two were successful, two failed. My two kids, a girl and a boy, are 7 and 10 years old, and more amazing than I ever imagined small humans could be. This pregnancy, at 21 weeks, appears to be working out. My one and only photo of the beloved boy-to-be is above, an ultrasound of him at 19 weeks in utero.

At 44, I have been nervous for almost as long as I have been pregnant. Luckily, I manage to sublimate my worries into long walks and other exercise, rather than letting it show in the blood pressure readings at my prenatal obstetrician visits. I have had every prenatal test available and covered by my insurance as well as a few that I’ve paid for out of pocket. Which was why I read this piece in the New York Times Well Blog by Jane Brody with such interest. While she doesn’t name the test by name, it’s called MaternitT21. The other four times I was pregnant, the test wasn’t available yet. It’s a remarkable scientific breakthrough, allowing pregnant women to have a simple blood test at 10 weeks, using their own blood, not fetal, to determine whether their fetus has certain chromosomal abnormalities — trisomy 21 (Downs Syndrome), trisomy 18 (Edwards Syndrome), and trisomy 13 (Patau Syndrome) — as well as telling the gender of the developing fetus (if the parents choose to find out). I didn’t pay the price listed in the Jane Brody article; my obstetrician was able to offer it to me for a reduced price of under $200.

At no point in the piece does Jane Brody ever suggest that a woman abort a fetus with genetic abnormalities. Nor does she criticize or belittle anyone with Downs Syndrome or their parents and caregivers. Yet some of the comments I read (I didn’t read them all — couldn’t bear to read the sanctimony of those who are certain of what other people should do) made it seem as though it was a pro-eugenics screed against anyone with a disability, and suggested that because October is Downs Syndrome Awareness Month, the New York Times and Jane Brody owed the public an apology. If I ever wondered how and why, other than a handful of politically active religious fanatics, access to birth control and the lawful right to continue or terminate a pregnancy are once again on shaky ground, reading many of these comments was a sharp reminder.

The saving grace in the threads I read were a few people who pointed out that there is little financial, caregiving, or health insurance support for many parents and caregivers who care for kids with disabilities. It can be a hard road, and one that should not be legislated or demanded by outsiders who have no responsibility or stake in the would-be child’s wellbeing, other than to be angry and feel threatened that there might be parents out there who make choices that differ from the ones they made (or were not free to make).

Every time I’ve been pregnant it’s been with a man who loves me, is an able and kind father, and is financially stable. And each time I’m pregnant, I remember what it was like to have no health insurance as a young woman in my late teens and through my 20s, until about the age of 25. My job as an administrative assistant at the University of California, Los Angeles, was a godsend in many ways, not the least of which was access to regular preventative health care across the street from a major medical center. Before that I went to student health services at my college and the Planned Parenthood of Minneapolis for birth control pills and the generic, horse-like antibiotics they doled out for my frequent respiratory infections. This time, as I do every time I’m pregnant, I remember how disastrous it would have been to have an unplanned baby with my new boyfriend (now spouse) 20 years ago, and I give to Planned Parenthood. This article was a reminder to do it again this time.

Any kind of family planning used to be a private matter. But ever since I’ve become a parent, I have been amazed at how loud the Greek chorus of judgmental peers and other bullies can be about anything related to having a family — how you feed and diaper your baby, what your work and childcare arrangements are, and even apparently whether or not you have prenatal screening. For some people it will never be enough to make family decisions for themselves, they need to tell you what you ought to be doing too, particularly under the cover of an internet comment alias. Which is why I’m talking about this in public. Go forth and do what works for you.