Last week, Liberal MP Ben Hood introduced a bill to the South Australian parliament that would require anyone seeking an abortion after 27 weeks and six days to give birth. Joanna Howe, a law professor and anti-abortion advocate, supports Hood, asserting that women “overwhelmingly” want this bill to pass.
I find myself questioning who these women might be and wondering if any of them have faced the heart-wrenching decision to terminate a pregnancy in the third trimester.
After enduring two painful ectopic pregnancies and a miscarriage, I longed for my daughter Asha. My pregnancy was far from straightforward; I alternated between the excitement of becoming her mother and intense anxiety about everything that could go wrong.
When I experienced bleeding and had ultrasounds that consistently indicated Asha was smaller than she should be, I tried to raise the alarm. Initially, my doctors dismissed my concerns, convinced that I must have my dates wrong. But at 28 weeks, when Asha was the size of a 22-week-old foetus, they conducted tests.
Hearing the results still haunts me. Asha had something called triploidy, a genetic condition characterised by an extra set of chromosomes. The doctors were surprised she had survived so long, explaining that most babies with triploidy rarely made it past the first or second trimester.
I soon learned that Asha’s chances of survival weren’t good: few babies with triploidy live through birth, and if they do, most suffer and die within hours or days. Carrying a baby with triploidy also poses significant risks to the mother. This left me with two options: continue the pregnancy, knowing that Asha would likely die – in utero, at birth, or shortly thereafter. Or I could seek approval for a late-term abortion.
My doctors made it clear that only I could make the decision, but I would have to get permission from a panel of medical professionals if I chose to terminate.
Asha was 29 weeks along at this stage, and the thought of waiting for her to die inside me filled me with dread. Imagining her death during labour or shortly after was no better. Conversely, a termination meant choosing to end her life on my terms and taking responsibility for that. Both felt wrong. I was racked with guilt and uncertainty. It was unbearable.
A week later, I went into hospital for a termination. I had to be induced, and I gave birth to Asha, weighing only 600 grams. She was beautiful, like a delicate doll with my own lips and nose. After holding her for hours, I gently bathed and dressed her and took photos and footprints of her perfect tiny feet. My closest family members held her. And for the rest of the night, I cradled her in my arms, unwilling to let go.
In the morning, she felt so cold and when her skin began to change colour, I knew I had to say goodbye. The nurse took her away, but I struggled to leave the hospital and face her empty room back home.
Ben Hood can’t possibly comprehend these experiences. He claims that we need to protect the most vulnerable from termination. He cites the 47 terminations conducted in South Australia over an 18-month period after the threshold of 22 weeks and 6 days. A closer look shows that 80% of these cases were due to risks to the mother’s health, while the remainder involved foetal anomalies.
If these women were forced to give birth, who would we be protecting?
Howe claims that Hood’s legislation is not anti-woman or anti-abortion, yet it completely disregards people like me. No one wants to find themselves in the position of having to make such a choice. Even more importantly, no one wants someone else dictating such a deeply personal decision for them and their baby. These choices are never made lightly and are often the result of heartbreaking circumstances.
Forcing a woman to give up her autonomy in such situations completely undermines her humanity.
Van Badham questioned whether Hood’s bill may be strategic in nature, igniting moral outrage. It speaks to the culture wars and echoes Trumpism, fanning the flames of moral absolutism and division; a move made by someone who is trying to gain more power. But we do not need culture-war inspired proposals or more powerful politicians; we need compassion. Shaming women who face what I lived through is cruel. We should support them, for they must make a near-impossible choice.
• Ruth Milne is a writer based in Perth, Australia. Her writing focuses on motherhood, women’s reproductive rights and abuse
• In Australia, support is available at Beyond Blue on 1300 22 4636 and Lifeline on 13 11 14. The government’s pregnancy, birth and baby helpline is on 1800 882 436.
