For several weeks, I have been bouncing. The cancellation of Roe v. wade melted what remained of my hope for building a better world. Sunday, when I read that this catastrophic decision could extend these legal tentacles to American in vitro fertilization clinics, the boiling water turned into a geyser.
Posted at 11:00 a.m.
I am the mother of a shrimp, a Rose, 5 years old, and an octopus. The shrimp and the octopus were both carriers of a genetic anomaly unknown to the battalion which causes very serious malformations. After ultrasounds without appeal, fountains of tears and cries of injustice, I decided to terminate each of the two pregnancies at the beginning of the 2e quarter and began a long and stormy process of grieving.
It wasn’t until a few weeks ago, when the US Supreme Court decision leaked, that I started identifying as a woman who had an abortion. Twice. Even though my children were wanted and already loved. Even if we talk about interruption medical of pregnancy, and not voluntary. Yet my reasons for having an abortion are worth those of all the other women who have an abortion. And their reasons — which are none of our business, by the way — should never prevent them from obtaining the same extraordinary support to which I was entitled in the Quebec health network.
With this genetic recurrence, another door opened: in vitro fertility with preimplantation diagnosis. This treatment offers only two guarantees: that of costing an arm and a leg (because no, it’s not covered, we are not unable to procreate) and that of being stuffed with hormones for weeks. A child may be born, but nothing is less certain. Choosing this option gives meaning to our two angels. But I often wonder if I’ve walked the fine line between never giving up and persisting.
1000 paths
My decisions are neither right nor wrong. I could have taken 1000 paths. But these are mine. Because, even if I have the best lover in the world, the decision is mine. It was I who carried our children, who entered the operating room, who will spend the next few months going back and forth to the clinic. Me and no one else. Especially not politicians and judges who have understood nothing.
So when I read that not only is the right to abortion going backwards, but that even women who choose the long and difficult process of in vitro fertilization could suffer the consequences, I tell myself that the world is crazy and that women are once again stuck in a perfect storm, the damage to which could be much more serious than imagined. And it makes me boil with rage.
Some will tell me that I’m still young, that I have a beautiful, healthy, big daughter, that it’s happening on the other side of the border. It doesn’t comfort me. It does not reassure me. On the contrary, this blindness makes me indignant.
Writing on Twitter that free choice is not in danger in our great territory is not enough. When will there be quick, easy and prejudice-free access to health care for all pregnant women everywhere in Quebec? When will there be another option than having a miscarriage in the crowded emergency room waiting room? When will there be midwives everywhere women demand them? When will taboos on perinatal bereavement and resources for bereaved parents end? When will women be at the heart of decisions that affect them?
There is too much to do not to get started right now.