When I was 27 years old, I went through one of the most heartbreaking experiences of my life: I miscarried during my first pregnancy. I was alone. My husband was away for work, and our small, quiet apartment suddenly felt vast and empty.
I remember the moment so vividly: walking out of our bathroom, the pit in my stomach, seeing the blood. I was 11 weeks pregnant, and, of course, had already shared the news with everyone.
After four years of marriage, the time was right. I had already been calling the baby Alma in my mind. Alma can mean “nourishing” or “soul.” I felt such a deep connection to this being, physically and spiritually. My excitement for this next chapter in our young married lives was too much to contain as I spread the news and made plans for where the baby would sleep.
But then, the bleeding got worse. I called my physician, scared and unsure what to do. They said to go to the emergency room if it got worse. I sobbed on the phone to my husband and mother-in-law, feeling powerless as the blood kept coming. I went to the emergency room.
As I waited for my physician to meet me at the hospital, I got the news that I needed a D&C. They explained that it was a necessary procedure to stop the bleeding. For those who don’t know, dilation and curettage is a procedure to remove tissue from inside the uterus. Health care professionals perform a D&C to resolve certain uterine conditions — such as severe bleeding — or to clear the uterine lining after a miscarriage or abortion.
D&Cs are an essential part of reproductive health care, and mine saved me.
Sometimes doctors can’t draw an exact legal line between what is miscarriage intervention and what is an abortion. That is why these deeply personal and private decisions should be made by the patient and their medical provider — not politicians.
Today, in 22 states across the nation, legislation aimed at banning abortions is making it harder — if not outright illegal — for doctors to provide proper care in these heartbreaking moments, including D&Cs.
Imagine being in my shoes: terrified, bleeding and told you cannot get the care you need. This is exactly what happened to the wife of radio host Ryan Hamilton, who was denied a D&C and shuffled from hospital to hospital in Texas because no one wanted to treat her miscarriage until she almost died from blood loss and dehydration. Those doctors were too afraid of the legal consequences.
I cannot imagine going through the heartbreak and trauma that I felt in those hours, only to be told that the care I needed was illegal. But this fear for pregnant people is a reality right now in states like Idaho, Indiana and Georgia, where Legislatures have banned almost all abortions. And this is exactly the scenario that could happen in Utah if the supermajority Republicans in the Utah Legislature try to pass stricter bans.
That’s part of the reason I decided to run for the Utah House of Representatives. We need more leaders who understand how these political decisions affect the very real lives of people each and every day.
Access to health care should not be a political issue, and it should not be up for debate.
I cannot imagine having to relive this personal trauma over again while also litigating for my rights, arguing with my doctor’s lawyers or traveling out of state before mourning a loss like I did. Women should have control over their own bodies and health, and the Utah Legislature needs to stay out of our business.
Angela Choberka is running for Utah State House of Representatives for District 9 in northern Utah. She has served on the Ogden City Council for more than six years and, in her day job, she works to ensure equitable access to health care for everyone. Learn more at angelachoberka.com.
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