Wading Without Roe: California Becomes Last Hope for Ending Pregnancies

Wading Without Roe: California Becomes Last Hope for Ending Pregnancies

M Hasan    11:00 PM   

Wading Without Roe: California as a Last-Resort Haven for Patients Seeking to End Pregnancies

California has become a last-resort destination for patients seeking to end pregnancies, particularly in the wake of the overturning of Roe v. Wade. In September 2023, Marcela Bermudez made the difficult decision to travel over 1,000 miles from Houston, Texas, to Los Angeles, California. At 25 years old and 14 weeks pregnant, she had no desire to continue her pregnancy. With abortion banned in Texas, she was among nearly 7,000 patients who traveled to California that year for an abortion.

Bermudez’s journey was not unique. Many patients shared stories of long, costly travels, overwhelming stigma, and the need for significant effort and luck to access their procedures. They described the emotional toll of trying to replicate the comfort of home through phone calls, moving belongings under the physical stress of pregnancy, and fearing potential complications. Despite these challenges, many expressed gratitude for the people who helped them navigate the process and those who continue to fight for abortion access.

The Impact of Overturning Roe v. Wade

The Supreme Court’s decision in Dobbs v. Jackson Women's Health Organization in June 2022, which overturned Roe v. Wade, marked a turning point in reproductive rights. While the number of abortions in the U.S. dipped slightly, the impact on access was profound. In states with total abortion bans, the situation became dire. However, in states like California, where abortion is legal until viability, the demand for services increased significantly.

According to the Guttmacher Institute, total abortions provided in California rose by 17% between 2020 and 2023. Abortions provided to out-of-state patients traveling to California increased more than 200% during the same period. This surge has placed a growing burden on clinics, requiring them to expand their operations, hire additional staff, and provide logistical support to meet the rising demand.

Personal Stories of Struggle and Support

Alexandria Cardenas, a 23-year-old from Houston, found herself in a similar situation. After learning she was pregnant, she sought help at a Planned Parenthood clinic, only to be met with limited guidance. She eventually found a clinic in Santa Ana, California, where she received the care she needed. The cost of the procedure was around $2,000, and she relied on her partner to cover the expenses.

For Bermudez, California represented a new beginning. She reached out to Access Reproductive Justice, an abortion fund that covered part of her procedure’s cost. Her final days in Texas were filled with anxiety, but she remained focused on her upcoming abortion. The day of the procedure was emotionally taxing, but she found solace in the support of a friend who had guided her through the process.

Expanding Access Through Shield Laws

In 2024, the trend of out-of-state travel for abortion care began to shift. According to the Guttmacher Institute, out-of-state patients seeking abortions in California dropped by 44% from 2023 to 2024. Instead, shield laws—laws that protect providers within a state from legal consequences stemming from reproductive health care that is legal in that state—have enabled physicians to mail abortion medication to patients in states where the procedure is banned.

The #WeCount report found that 25% of all abortion medication delivered nationally by mail in 2023 was provided under shield laws. For many patients, receiving pills in the mail offers a more convenient option than traveling across state lines.

Challenges and Continued Advocacy

Despite the rise in abortion access, many patients still choose or need to travel out of state for care. Some are beyond the gestational limit for medicated abortions, while others face stigma and fear of criminalization in their home states. Organizations like The Brigid Alliance provide critical support, helping patients book flights, arrange accommodations, and manage other logistical needs.

While the number of abortions performed in the U.S. increased in 2024 compared to 2022, the impact of abortion bans remains significant. Many individuals have been unable to access care due to these restrictions. However, the efforts of politicians, abortion funds, clinicians, and advocacy groups continue to make a difference.

Legal Challenges and Future Concerns

Shield laws are now being tested in courts across the country. In Texas, the Attorney General sued a New York doctor for allegedly prescribing abortion pills to a patient in Texas. Similar cases are emerging in Louisiana and other states. These legal battles may ultimately reach the U.S. Supreme Court, raising concerns about the future of reproductive rights.

Emotional Healing and Resilience

For many patients, the emotional journey after an abortion is just as challenging as the procedure itself. Cardenas continues to heal from the trauma of traveling far from home and the Catholic shame she felt afterward. She credits therapy with helping her cope and now speaks out about the need for better access to care.

Bermudez, too, has found strength in her experience. She works at Access Reproductive Justice, the organization that helped her during her time of need. She reflects on how her life could have been different without the opportunity to terminate her pregnancy.

Conclusion

California’s role as a last-resort haven for patients seeking to end pregnancies highlights the ongoing struggle for reproductive rights in the U.S. While progress has been made, the road ahead remains uncertain. The efforts of advocates, healthcare providers, and patients continue to shape the landscape of reproductive care, ensuring that those in need can access the support they deserve.

The Secret I've Carried for 56 Years — Now Revealed to Save Lives

The Secret I've Carried for 56 Years — Now Revealed to Save Lives

M Hasan    8:31 AM   

A Personal Story of Abortion Before Legalization

In 1957, as I prepared to leave England for the United States, my mother offered me some final advice. Instead of the usual words of wisdom about marriage or life, she gave me a method to terminate a pregnancy. She suggested boiling half a bottle of red wine and drinking it while it was hot, then standing on a chair and jumping off several times. Her recommendation was unusual, but not uncommon at the time.

At that point in history, abortion was not only illegal but also dangerous. In the United Kingdom, many women used knitting needles to end their pregnancies, while in the United States, wire coat hangers were a common tool. My mother believed her method was safer. However, I found her advice amusing and did not take it seriously. I planned to be fitted with a diaphragm upon arriving in America, as I was confident I could avoid unplanned pregnancies.

Upon my arrival, I looked up obstetricians in the yellow pages and found a doctor nearby. To my disappointment, she refused to fit me, stating I should return after I was married. This was the same policy in Britain, where contraception was only available to married women. My wedding was just two weeks away, and I wondered what this doctor thought would happen on my honeymoon.

Our first child, Ruth, was born two years after our marriage, followed by Dan 21 months later. Caring for two young children was exhausting, but I found it exhilarating. Watching them grow was like witnessing a miracle. Then, three and a half years later, I discovered I was pregnant again.

During my morning sickness, Ruth and Dan both contracted German measles, or rubella. I knew the risks—pregnancy during the first trimester could lead to serious birth defects, including deafness, cataracts, heart problems, developmental disabilities, and even stillbirth. When I asked my obstetrician what he would do if I caught rubella, he simply shrugged and said, “Nothing.” A friend who had the same experience attempted suicide and spent the rest of her life in a vegetative state.

After our third child, Jonathan, was born, we moved to Berkeley, where I was fitted with an IUD. Ezra’s architectural practice was thriving, and he was teaching at UC Berkeley. He often traveled, leaving me to manage three children with different needs. I felt overwhelmed and inadequate as a parent.

In 1969, when Jonathan entered kindergarten, I returned to my studies at the University of California. Life finally felt more balanced. But one morning, I woke up with the familiar signs of early pregnancy. I denied the possibility at first, relying on my IUD, which I believed to be 99% effective. However, I was part of that unlucky 1%.

The thought of carrying a baby alongside the IUD terrified me. What damage could it cause? More importantly, I couldn’t handle another child. Life was just beginning to feel normal, and the idea of a fourth child filled me with dread.

I made an appointment with my obstetrician, who confirmed the pregnancy. I told him I was resigned to having another baby, but he sensed my reluctance. “Go home and talk to your husband,” he said. “If you decide you don’t want to continue, call my office and say you’re bleeding heavily. I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

I was stunned. For the first time, I felt a sense of relief. The doctor was offering me a choice, something I never thought possible. After discussing it with Ezra, we both agreed we didn’t want another child.

The next day, I called the doctor’s office and lied about heavy bleeding. Ezra drove me to the hospital, where we met the doctor. As I was wheeled into the operating room, the nurse squeezed my hand and said, “You’ll be fine.” That was the last thing I remembered.

When I awoke, I was relieved and grateful. Ezra brought me my favorite ice cream, and we shared our feelings of relief. I didn’t tell anyone about the procedure. I was afraid of the legal consequences, and I kept the secret until now.

Had my doctor not offered this option, I might have gone to Mexico or faced the dangers of illegal procedures. Many women suffered from botched abortions or lacked access to healthcare altogether. I was risk-averse and would have likely carried the pregnancy to term, leading to a life of exhaustion and resentment.

Today, at 92, I still feel anger toward legislators who force women to carry pregnancies against their will. Women are often portrayed as foolish teenagers, but many mature women with families face these difficult decisions. Right-to-life advocates focus on rare procedures while ignoring the suffering of women who undergo them.

I share my story now because I believe it can help wake people up to the dangers of restricting reproductive rights. We are returning to a time when women are denied control over their bodies. Doctors fear following the example of my obstetrician, and women with complications are left to suffer.

Stories of regret after abortion are common in antiabortion circles, but my experience was the opposite. It allowed us to have the family we wanted. I have no regrets.

I will always be grateful to my doctor, who risked his career to help me. Now, women are forced to resort to unsafe methods, just as they did before abortion became legal. We are returning to the days of coat hangers and knitting needles.

Cynthia Ehrenkrantz is a writer and storyteller. She was born in Britain and immigrated to the United States in 1957. Her memoir, “Seeking Shelter: Memoir of a Jewish Girlhood in Wartime Britain,” is available wherever books are sold. She lives in Westchester County, New York.