I was 18, a freshman in college in San Francisco, and it was 1971. I had just become sexually active, and like some kind of bad teevee movie script, I think I got pregnant the first or second time I had sex. I had made an appointment with Planned Parenthood to get a prescription for “the pill”, but due to their backlog (they had almost no medical staff) they couldn’t see me until early February. I found out I was pregnant five days before the appointment.
I was raised Catholic, but I remember thinking during “Family Living” (code for human sexuality) classes in senior year of high school that if I got pregnant and didn’t want to be, I’d seek out abortion options. Now my philosophy was put to the test. I made an appointment with the Haight Ashbury Free Clinic, and embarked on a reproductive-rights version of the Underground Railroad. I lived in California, and Ronald Reagan was governor in 1971. I had, with the step-by-step guidance of the HAFC and some fellow-traveler MDs, to have myself declared mentally incompetent. This was the only grounds for abortion in that state at that time. I was examined by several doctors (gynecologists and psychiatrists) and then waited for over two weeks for the decision to be made in Sacramento. Thirty three years ago almost to the week, I got a message from the HAFC that I was cleared to schedule an abortion.
The procedure itself was more complex then than it was now. I was in the hospital for two days over spring break. Had I been under 18 I don’t think I would have been able to pull all this off without my parents’ permission – and they would never have given it.
I thought many times in the ensuing years about what ramifications that “mentally incompetent” label might have if I ever had children, and found myself living in California without a husband. Who knows what measures could have been taken against me by the state, if, if, if? No one should have to appeal to the state to make a decision about their own body. Imagine if you had to appeal to the state to have botox, or get cosmetic surgery – especially in California!
As it turns out, I have never had children. The abortion didn’t have anything to do with the rest of my reproductive life – I was able to conceive, but never had the right partner to father a child. I never wanted to raise a child alone, and since it was my choice, I made it. I’ve been single most of my life, and don’t regret my choice. I’m a happy auntie, and a happy stepmom.
I believe more strongly now that I’m post-menopausal in a woman’s right to make her own reproductive choices. I will attend the march on the 25th on behalf of the reproductive rights of my five year old niece.
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