'I've had an abortion:' Mississippi women talk about why they made that choice

Sarah Fowler | Mississippi Clarion Ledger

Show Caption Hide Caption Unplanned but not unwanted Dana Hinders knew she wanted kids, but wanted to establish a career first. When those came out of order she didn't know where to turn for help.

One in four women will have an abortion by the time they're 45. But few talk about their decision, their experience kept behind a veil of secrecy.

The Clarion Ledger spoke with women across Mississippi as they told the stories of their abortions in their own words. All but one asked that their names be withheld. They expressed concern over what their church members, their parents, or their children's friends would think and the repercussions they and their families would face.

Some have never told anyone about their abortions while others have openly shared their experience. They are college students, teachers, stay-at-home moms, medical professionals and business leaders. They vary in age and race but they all have at least this one thing in common.

These are their stories.

Liz, 33

Having an abortion in Mississippi is hard. Even thinking of having an abortion in Mississippi is hard. I’ve had one abortion — a few months ago — at the age of 33. I never thought this would be a dilemma for me but you truly never know until you walk in a person's shoes. I have two children of my own and one stepchild. My last child was an 'UH OH' so you can imagine my fear of becoming pregnant when said child was one year old.

I told no one but my husband, and we both agreed we didn’t want another child but we couldn’t agree on what to do about it. I knew a couple having trouble conceiving and thought of adoption. But what would people think? My husband was against anything that involved us being judged. However, I am an open book. We balance one another.

We live in a 1,200-square-foot house, so one thing on our agenda would be to move to a bigger house. Could we afford that? So many life changes. So much more money. I would have to work and I absolutely love staying home and raising my babies. Not being able to do that would hurt my heart. Really petty, huh? I don’t have a drama-filled story of drugs, rape or incest, but this is my story of a married woman with three children who had an abortion.



It was April/May 2018. I couldn’t tell you exactly when unless I looked at paperwork. I was feeling bad so out of curiosity I took a pregnancy test. It was positive. That’s a lonely feeling when you can’t share that information.

I called and researched a clinic in Tupelo who advertised abortions. I went, confirmed my pregnancy and then received a bib with a Bible verse on it. That hurt because I knew what I wanted for my family but also knew I was being judged. My decision was being second guessed by these people who didn’t even know me. In the end, they told me they didn’t offer abortions but they were there to help. Ha. Yeah, right.

I started researching more and found a clinic in Memphis that took me in. My husband didn’t want any part of it, which was a bit disappointing, but I understood. We were both raised as Southern Baptist, but I always had a wild streak and a loud mouth so I was a bit more aware of things than he was. I’ve traveled and seen the world. He’s only seen Columbus. You get the picture. Either way, I thought I could live with myself so I proceeded.

I made an appointment, drove to Memphis alone, sick as a dog. I walked into this clinic and I texted my husband that I knew I was in the right place. I literally felt at home when I walked in.

Ashley, 24

I was 16 when I had an abortion. I’d just lost my virginity in January of 2010, and by March I was pregnant. My mom is a pretty traditional Christian woman, so we didn’t talk about sex or birth control. My boyfriend told me he’d pull out and I wouldn’t get pregnant. When I took the test at his house and saw it was positive, I went straight home. I sat down near my mom and told her I was pregnant. It made her sick. I hadn’t thought about abortion until she brought it up. “Well, I’m going to bed. You need to think about what you’re going to do. Adoption, abortion...”

I went to my room and thought for maybe 20 minutes about pregnancy. I couldn’t go to the school I’d always gone to while pregnant. The private school I went to in Jackson kicks you out if you get pregnant. I had a huge phobia of doctors, too. I had also recently gotten on medicine for anxiety and depression. Apparently I couldn’t be on that while pregnant either. With that, I called my mom (even though she was just downstairs) and told her I had to have an abortion. The next day she called to schedule it.

I remember she called several places and most of them didn’t actually perform abortions. I know those places now to be CPC’s. She called places in state, as well as in Tennessee, Louisiana, Alabama, and Georgia. She’d heard stories of women fleeing to other states to have the procedure for confidentiality. She left that up to me, and I told her I’d rather stay here. She finally got ahold of JWH (the pink house in Fondren).

The clinic told her that, first of all, I had to have both parents written consent to have the abortion because I was a minor. I wondered what kids did who didn’t have parents like mine. And, great, I have to tell my dad. He was disgusted, but ultimately supported me. Then, my mom was told that we had to come in first to take another pregnancy test and have an ultrasound.

My appointment was so early, before school. I was in my school uniform. My mother had a school sticker on the back window of her car. We parked in the tiny parking lot, got out, and began walking towards the front door. It’s hectic with the protesters. My dad, my boyfriend and my mom were with me. I heard them scream, “We’re calling your school!” “Please don’t murder your baby!” “Sir, how does it feel to know your slut daughter is murdering your grandchild?!” With that, my dad grabbed the camera from the protester and beat him with it. He was okay with the assault charge he received.

It was a long morning. I was so afraid to go back because of the strangers crowding me and screaming at me, calling me horrible names and saying it was all in the name of the Christian church. If screaming horrible things to a 16-year-old girl who was frightened and vulnerable was what “being a Christian” was, then I wanted no part of it. That was the last day I considered myself part of the church.

I was only five weeks pregnant, so I qualified to take the pill. The doctor was so informative about how things should go once I took the pill. They went exactly as he’d told me. I got to do it in the comfort of my own home, away from those protesters. Two weeks later, I had to have a follow up appointment but, because we had such a hard time with protesters, we decided to go to my OBGYN. My doctor wouldn’t even see me. She sent her nurse to do it. I was met with rude comments and a glare I’ll never forget. I’ve never experienced such hostile bedside manner, even afterwards.

I’m now 24 and fresh out of intensive therapy. My Southern Baptist therapist told me to “build a coffin and dig a grave for my dead baby.” I am still searching for a sense of solace. Time and time again I am met with hostility from caregivers I am meant to trust. Will I be able to find a place to heal in Mississippi, where abortion is regarded as one of the highest sins? I hope so. But not yet.

Michelle Colon, 43

When I was a 21-year old college student, I found out I was pregnant. It was only jokingly that I even took an at-home pregnancy test that I found out! Here I was, barely an adult, an educated woman, sharing a house with two roommates, working as a server in a local restaurant with no intentions of being a mother. I was just scraping by and in no position for the responsibility of bringing, caring and nurturing a child at the time. I had always supported abortion rights and had no hesitation as to what I was going to do next. Like so many others before me, I was faced with the financial challenges of paying for my procedure and, in the early 1990’s, I wasn’t aware of available abortion funds. So, I went to the elders in my community at the time, wise women from Africa and the Caribbean islands, who were imbued with the knowledge and skills of the old ways of herbal abortion practices and midwifery. I paid for a bag of selected herbs with strict instructions of use to aid me in my termination. It was an herbal tea remedy and the process would take six to eight days. But I altered the instructions.

You see, I wanted it over so I figured, if I drank three times the amount in three days, it would work just as well! It had a horrendous smell and taste! I can still remember it as it entered my mouth and the short stay on my tongue that first sip! There was no way I could drink this three times a day! SO, I drank a 32-ounce cup full of the concoction in three days, ingesting a few sips at night before bedtime. By day four, I was cramping like crazy then began spotting on day five. First, the spotting was similar to a regular monthly menstrual cycle, then after about two weeks, I started expelling clots of blood. I wasn’t afraid, I expected it because it was explained to me thoroughly and printed on the instructions. But I didn’t stop bleeding clots. For nearly three months.

You see, I didn’t go to a doctor, I never had an ultrasound and I didn’t know how far along I was. On top of that, I ingested a super size amount that was causing me to hemorrhage. I finally went to the emergency room and had to have a d & c; a dilation of my cervix and the scraping of my uterus to remove its contents. This strong, independent feminist, socially conscious black woman harbored feelings of embarrassment from being pregnant. Even years later, I never considered my experience ‘worthy’ because I didn’t walk the gauntlet into a clinic for my own abortion. I didn’t endure the shouting, name calling, the accusations and condemnation of 'killing my baby,' as so many of my peers had. It wasn’t until 2006 that a friend said that my story was relevant and just as important because I did not have the financial resources to go to a clinic and resorting to an alternative, while safer than the hanger, was still just as challenging and could have ended up a whole lot worse.

I was never ashamed of my decision nor have I had any regrets. I made the decision that was in my best interest at the time. While I am in my early 40’s now and my life is not quite where I would like it to be, I am not where I was at 21. It would not have been fair or safe to involve a child into the situation. I am proud of my decision. The only regret that I have is, that in 2018, women and girls continue to face obstacles in obtaining an abortion and soon legal abortion will be obsolete in the entire South and other parts of the country. I think about what they are going through, what they’re thinking. What are they going to do?

Anna, 45

I was 31 when I found out I was pregnant with my second child. It should have been a happy moment, but here I was, a divorced, single mom to a toddler, with a new boyfriend. I remember thinking, 'This is not possible, I’m too responsible for something like this to happen.' Several home pregnancy tests and a trip to a local clinic confirmed it.

How was I going to tell the man I’d only been dating a couple of months, long distance dating? I was raised Baptist. I’d never believed in abortion, but here I was, on the internet, trying to figure out what to do. I considered myself very independent. I hadn’t told anyone yet, not even my boyfriend. I was scared. What would he think? What would my parents think? What would my co-workers think?

I told him over the phone. He was shocked, and I believe as scared as I was, as having a baby was not in the plan. I told him not to worry, I’d made the decision to terminate the pregnancy. I lived in Mississippi, but found a clinic out of state in Georgia. I didn’t have to go for a consultation. I could just show up on the day of my appointment, and it would all be taken care of. Did I mention it was Christmas? I just blocked it out of my mind until after the holiday.

I took a week off work and stayed with my boyfriend. I was so sick. I think morning sickness and anxiety about what I was going to do. He took me to the clinic the day of the procedure, December 30, and sat with me in the waiting room. I remember the room being very full of women and teenagers of all ages and ethnicities. I filled out forms and paid the six hundred dollar fee, and waited. I didn’t think, I didn’t want to think, I didn’t want to be there.

When I was called back, my boyfriend had to leave. I was taken to a room for some counseling, to be sure this is what I wanted. I was so numb, I don’t remember what the woman said, I just signed the papers. I was on autopilot.

Next, I had to go have a sonogram. I can still see myself on the table, with the woman looking at the screen, and I can still hear her tell me that I was seven weeks. I think often, looking back, that if I could go back in time, this would be when I would have gotten off the table and walked out the door, but I didn’t. I continued on, on autopilot, not thinking, numb to any feeling. I sat in a large waiting room, in a gown, with many other women, and it was so quiet. I had elected to be put to sleep during the procedure, not wanting to hear or see anything. I didn’t think I could bear it. I remember thinking it was like an assembly line, one right after the other.

When it was my turn, I went in the room, IV started, and woke up in recovery with about eight other women. When I was awake enough, I was given several prescriptions and discharge instructions and sent on my way. My boyfriend had waited out in the parking lot for me. He didn’t know what to say. What do you say? He took me to the pharmacy, and back to his house. I went home a few days later like nothing had happened.

Life went on. My boyfriend and I eventually broke up. I later remarried and had another child. I have never forgotten the decision I made. It’s been 13 years and I still regret it. I wonder, boy or girl? Who would he/she look like? I wish I could have been a stronger person.

Monica, 39

This part of my journey begins 16 years ago when I was 23 years old. At this juncture of my life, I was a graduate student trying to survive on a meager stipend living in my parents’ house. I grew up in a typical Southern family in which anything related to sexuality constituted a taboo subject. In addition to the lack of any semblance of a dialogue about sexuality, the idea that intimate relations were only appropriate within the narrow confines of the institution of marriage was thoroughly ingrained from a young age. Given that my parents were devoutly Christian, I always attended a parochial school until I went to college. My middle-class parents worked extremely hard to support me and my two sisters. Not only did my mother have a full-time job, but my father also worked for three different employers.

On a seemingly ordinary day, I went to the doctor’s office because I had been experiencing abdominal discomfort. I decided to make an appointment, since I had never felt this kind of pain before. Although I had a boyfriend at the time who I had been dating for over a year, the thought that I was pregnant never even crossed my mind. Perhaps, this lack of awareness was merely a reflection of naïveté. When the nursed asked me if I could be pregnant, the reality and gravity of the situation finally struck me. I was in such a state of shock that it felt as if I couldn’t breathe. After a pregnancy test officially confirmed the nurse’s suspicions, I began to sob hysterically all alone in that room.

When the physician arrived, he was so compassionate and caring. He clearly recognized that this undesired pregnancy was not planned. I will never forget these words of compassion and understanding: “There is no one way or right way to move forward. If you need the name of someone who can help you, if you choose not to continue this pregnancy, I want you to do this safely.” I took the information that he provided.

My boyfriend at the time fully supported my decision. Not only did we go to the clinic together, but he also paid the $800 fee for the procedure. Upon our arrival at the office building, I felt a deep sense of guilt and shame. Specifically, it felt like everyone that I saw knew exactly what I was doing and was judging me harshly without really knowing anything about me as a person at all. Although I have never wavered in my conviction that I made the right decision because of the situation, many people consider this choice to be incompatible with Christian values. Despite the fact that I would have been woefully unprepared to provide a good quality of life for this child with a partner that I could not envision myself spending the rest of my life with at all, I still cried at the office.

The procedure itself was quick and relatively pain free. I often reflect upon that day and the decision that I ultimately decided to make. The only person with whom I have shared this story is my husband. None of my other friends or family members is aware of this secret. When we tried to start a family years later, we encountered several setbacks along the way. After three miscarriages, we were finally able to welcome our beautiful daughter into our lives. When I was trying to cope with the anguish of these losses, I initially blamed myself. Due to my aforementioned religious upbringing, the irrational notion that I was being punished by God entered my head. Even though some readers may agree with this assessment, I am unsure why anyone would freely choose to worship a divinity that would exact vengeance in this kind of manner.

If I could go back in time to the moment when I made the fateful decision to terminate my pregnancy, I would make the same exact choice. I am forever grateful that a compassionate physician made me aware of a safe alternative without judging me as a person. Given that I remain firmly convinced that I made the correct decision, I have no regrets whatsoever. I hope that other women will continue to have this option at their disposal for the foreseeable future.

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