Ever since I got my first period, it has been pretty regular. Every 28 days or so, my cramps start, my back aches, and I prepare myself for a couple of extra naps to ward off the physical and emotional discomfort. Unlike most of my friends, who can go months without getting their period thanks to birth control, I rely on a tracking app to let me know when to expect it next — but even so, it’s not uncommon that my period comes between 10 and 12 days late about once a year.

Now, under a new bill passed by my home state of Georgia on March 29, this short window of time could make all the difference if I were dealing with an unwanted pregnancy. House Bill 481, or the Living Infants Fairness and Equality (LIFE) Act, bans abortions as soon as an embryo’s heartbeat can be detected, usually around five or six weeks into a pregnancy. This is only about two weeks after a missed period, and before many people — even those who experience “regular” periods like me — know they’re pregnant.

The law offers few exceptions for abortions after this mark: primarily if a pregnant person’s life is endangered or if “the unborn child has a profound and irremediable congenital or chromosomal anomaly that is incompatible with sustaining life after birth.” In cases of rape or incest, survivors must have filed a police report alleging the incident in order to qualify for the procedure. This requirement perpetuates rape culture and the myth that the criminal justice system takes survivors seriously.

As was illustrated during Dr. Christine Blasey Ford’s testimony last fall, when President Donald Trump accused her of fabricating her assault because she did not go directly to the police, coming forward about a traumatic experience is not an easy thing to do. In fact, as the Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network (RAINN) responded to the president, 7 out of 10 survivors don’t report their assaults at all. Filing a police report often forces a person to revictimize themselves by describing every detail of an experience they would rather forget, and may be followed by victim-blaming questions about what they were wearing, if they’d been drinking, or if they’d shown interest in the perpetrator.

Asking survivors to report to law enforcement if they don’t want to deal with the repercussions of sexual violence is not only unreasonable but inhumane. It burdens them with the responsibility of outing their abuser, “proving” they were assaulted, and determining what they’ll do if they get pregnant, all while grappling with the notion that their consent was violated, oftentimes by someone they know. Beyond the heavy implications of the law’s requirements after sexual assault, we also know that criminalizing abortion doesn’t mean it stops happening — it just puts more people at risk of unsafe procedures. Georgia already has the worst rate of maternal mortality in the United States, especially when it comes to Black women’s pregnancies, and by passing this bill, our state lawmakers seem to be telling those of us with uteruses that we don’t deserve the right to a happy and healthy life if we participate in sexual activities that don’t uphold pregnancy as the end goal.

Both with legislation like HB 481 and with the rhetoric even in the pro-choice movement that no one "wants" an abortion, the procedure is framed as a person’s last resort, a volatile and traumatic decision that someone is pushed to when they have no other option. But the truth is, that way of thinking continues to stigmatize a completely normal medical procedure by sustaining the idea that there’s something wrong with getting an abortion. There isn’t, but legislation like HB481 reinforces the idea that there is.