Mainstream conversations about becoming pregnant, giving birth and creating a family are full of ableist ideals about what everything should look like.
From Italy’s law criminalizing surrogacy abroad, to Senate Republicans’ move to block for the second time legislation would create nationwide right for fertility treatments, building families has recently come under attack. Vice President Kamala Harris is also fielding attacks for her lack of biological children, with Arkansas Gov. Sarah Huckabee Sanders recently claiming that she “has nothing keeping her humble.”
What is missing from the coverage of these attacks is a conversation about how creating families is seen in the mainstream media: from a very narrow, ableist perspective.
Ableism is the unjust treatment of disabled people and the normalization of able-bodiedness. Ableism doesn’t exist in a vacuum—it intersects with race, class and gender. Conversations around ableism need to be more centered in this election, especially in our discussions of women, family and fertility.
I am a new mother—someone who underwent fertility treatments to become pregnant and someone with a host of autoimmune conditions that impact my daily life. As a college professor who studies disability and race, I am also someone who thinks about how ableism and intersectionality impact society.
During my fertility and pregnancy journey, I was surprised by how ableist the process was—from the constant stamp of advanced maternal age (AMA), formerly known as a geriatric pregnancy; to genetic testing at several critical points to tell me whether my son would be born disabled; to the doulas who refused to answer detailed questions about C-sections and alternatives to breastfeeding, as if such questions were too taboo to even discuss.
The processes of becoming pregnant, giving birth and creating a family are all full of ableist ideals about what everything should look like. When it comes to what is perceived as “normal,” lawmakers expect that cisgendered women are supposed to carry a pregnancy to nine months without complications like gestational diabetes or hypertension and effortlessly deliver in the 40th week, unmedicated and without intervention. After birth, babies must weigh just the right amount and be able to breastfeed—after all, breast is best! This is what every birth and labor course I took in the Bay Area prepared me for: a “normal” birth.
Birth prep courses aim to provide the basics and avoid scaring new parents about the process of labor and delivery. However, as I learned firsthand, few births actually go according to plan. Many may require some form of medical intervention.
A 2020 study by the National Institutes of Health found that mothers who were educated on the different kinds of medical interventions felt more informed and in control of their choices during labor and delivery. In a situation where women have to cede some control to a medical or birth provider, having all of the information is critical. Unfortunately, if we only prepare birth parents for “normal” delivery, we miss this informed opportunity to make choices about our bodies and feel safe and supported if our bodies don’t birth a child in a specific way.
As a mother of AMA, I spent a long time during my pregnancy learning from recent, more senior mothers about their birth stories. I joined several Facebook groups, got in touch with people in my local community and joined a prenatal/postpartum yoga class for mothers. What I learned from all of these spaces, aside from the fact that no two births are identical, is that several mothers shared—some with trepidation and shame—how they required additional support with birth and fertility, such as fertility treatments, inductions, C-sections or medical interventions for conditions like gestational diabetes or hypertension.
What if, instead of shaming mothers for needing these types of support, we embraced the ups and downs of each birth and fertility story for what it is: a unique and personal story? We need to talk more about how limitations on the construction of families are steeped in ableism and begin to unpack exactly what a “normal” pregnancy really is.
Instead of striving for what only a few women and women-identifying individuals can claim as their fertility journey, birth and family story, perhaps we should lean into and embrace our individuality with each of these processes. After all, like Tim Walz and Kamala Harris’ family journeys, each of our journeys is unique and should be celebrated for its differences rather than criticized for its non-conformity.
At Ms. magazine, our mission is to deliver facts about the feminist movement (and those who stand in its way) and foster informed discussions—not to tell you who to vote for or what to think. We believe in empowering our readers to form their own opinions based on reliable reporting. To continue providing you with independent feminist journalism, we rely on the generous support of our readers. Please consider making a tax-deductible donation today if you value the work we do and want to see it continue. Thank you for supporting women’s voices and rights.
