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