Editor’s Note: Mylissa Farmer is an advocate for the health and rights of pregnant people. The views expressed in this commentary are her own. Viewmore opinionon CNN.
CNN —
My daughter was a promise for the future.I named her Maeve, after an Irish warrior queen, because I believed she was going to change the world.
I’d wanted her desperately. When I found out I was pregnant, I was so excited I couldn’t sleep. That first night, my now-husband and I sat together on our back porch in the dark, just taking it all in and thinking about how dramatically our lives would change.
Little did we know.
Ihadgottenpregnant in my40s, so I knew my pregnancy was higher risk. And I did everything I could to make sure my pregnancy was healthy.
I worked closely with my doctor, went to every ultrasound appointment, changed my diet and held my breath through those critical early weeks. When everything looked good at my appointment around 18 weeks, I felt like I could finally exhale.
At6:30 the next morning, I woke up to a large gush of fluid and bleeding, pain and cramping. I realized my water had broken — and far too early. My doctor told me to go straight to the emergency room where they confirmed the worst: There was no chance my daughter would survive, and I was in danger myself. Without emergency intervention to end my pregnancy, I wasat riskfor infection that could lead to sepsis, infertility or even death.
But the hospital said they couldn’t provide the care I needed to save my life and health.
Ignoring my doctors’ medical advice, the hospital refused to treat me, claiming its hands were tied because of Missouri’s abortion ban. They said there was nothing they could do unless my condition got even worse.
In pain, terror and disbelief, I got back in the car with my husband. Frantic, we called hospitals in neighboring states, desperate to find somewhere that would take me.
We drove nearly three hours to Kansas, where a doctor initially gave us the option to induce labor to lower my risk of infection and give us a few final minutes with Maeve, so we could hold her and say goodbye. The doctor left us to make our decision. In that moment, there was nothing I wanted more than the opportunity to say a loving farewell.
Then, the doctor came back with a different story. These doctors’ hands, too, were tied because the situation was too politicallyheated.
My life was in danger. My daughter’s death was inevitable. But the hospitals insisted that emergency intervention was impossible because the care I needed was an abortion.
The cruelty still boggles my mind.
Eventually, we found a clinic in Illinois that was willing to treat me. I’ll always be grateful for the kindness and compassion of the doctors who helped save my life.
That was four days after my water broke. And those four days changed me forever.
I’ve since moved out of Missouri to get away from the harrowing, traumatic memories — and away from the judgment of neighbors who heard I had an abortion and decided that I’d done something wrong. I’ve lost savings and struggled to pay my bills, first because of the work I missed while I was in crisis, then because of the aftermath — coping with medical complications andfeelingso low that it was often impossible to get out of bed. My marriage has been tested; my dream of bearing a child has been shattered.
After this ordeal, I learned about a federal law that should have prevented the hospitals from denying me the abortion care I needed. That law, theEmergency Medical Treatment and Labor Act, or EMTALA, mandates that Medicare-funded hospitals must provide stabilizing care to all patients who come to the ER with an emergency condition. The care EMTALA requires has always included abortion. The law puts patients first and lets doctors decide what kind of care their patients need, no matter their circ*mstances, their zip code or their financial means.
But after the Supreme Court overturnedRoe v. Wadetwo years ago, some hospitals began turning away people like me out of fear of political backlash or claims that the abortion care EMTALA requires is prohibited by state law.
For its part, the Biden administrationhas made clear thatthe law requires hospitals to treat pregnant people who need emergency abortion care. Nonetheless, hospitals havecontinued to deny care, and some health care professionals havefled stateswith restrictive abortion laws, worsening maternal health care deserts andundoubtedly contributing toour country’s maternal mortalitycrisis.
Today, the Supreme Court could have provided clarity that EMTALA protects pregnant patients inemergency situations, regardless of state law. Instead, the courtdismissed the appeal,only temporarily allowing emergency abortions to take place in Idaho while the underlying lawsuit at the 9th US Circuit Court of Appealscontinues.
Writing separately,Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson noted that she would not have dismissed the case. “Today’s decision is not a victory for pregnant patients in Idaho,”she wrote. “It is delay.”The court left room for the possibility that in the future, others will be subjected to nightmares like mine.
When Iheard the justices debateduring oral arguments just how much danger a woman has to be in before doctors can provide an abortion to save her — how many of her organs must fail, or how serious her infection must be — it made me sick. I cannot believe this court couldn’t even give women the bare minimum protection for our health and lives by permanently putting the chaos and confusion around EMTALA’s requirements to rest.
No one should have to go through what I went through.
Politicians and judges don’t belong in emergency rooms. It’s not their place to control my life or anyone else’s.
If our courts won’t protect us, we have to protect ourselves. We must use our voices and our collective power to support a federal right to abortion that ensures all of us who need abortion care are able to get it from their compassionate providers. I look to our communities to undo the abortion stigma that pushes people like me into the shadows when what they need is love, compassion, and care. And I look to Maeve.
My daughter was a promise I didn’t get to keep, but all of that love has to go somewhere.So now it’s going here. Into a story I wish I never had to tell, in hopes that someday we can ensure that no one ever endures suffering like mine again.
