Our Abortion Stories: ‘Kate Cox’s Story Is One of Millions That Must Be Shared, and This Is Mine.’

As we brace and prepare for potential shifts this year, the power of telling our personal reproductive stories can be a catalyst for change and a beacon of solidarity.

An abortion rights rally in Bloomsburg, Pa., on July 3, 2023, in response to the U.S. Supreme Court’s decision to overturn Roe v. Wade. (Paul Weaver / SOPA Images / LightRocket via Getty Images)

The Supreme Court’s overturning of Roe v. Wade was the largest blow to women’s constitutional rights in history. A series from Ms., Our Abortion Stories chronicles readers’ experiences of abortion pre- and post-Roe. Abortions are sought by a wide range of people for many different reasons. There is no single story. Telling stories of then and now shows how critical abortion has been and continues to be for women and girls. Share your abortion story by emailing myabortionstory@msmagazine.com

Reproductive Realities: Sharing Our Stories Can Shape Change

2023 was the first full year in the United States since 1972 without the right to abortion access nationwide. It’s a devastating reality that hits right to the heart and has already impacted the health and well-being of millions across the country. We have now entered what is expected to be a potentially tumultuous election year that could have rippling effects on our fundamental human rights for generations to come, and the need to amplify and shift narratives about reproductive health is time-sensitive.

Since Roe v. Wade was overturned, abortion rights have won at the ballot box. Whenever the question about protecting access to abortion services is posed to voters, regardless of their political leanings, the choice has been clear and resounding. Voters know this isn’t just a political debate—it’s personal. 

Making deeply personal decisions about when and if to become a parent profoundly impacts our life journeys, economic stability and overall well-being. Most recently, we have witnessed the publicly documented plight of Kate Cox, who was cruelly and dangerously denied the time-sensitive care she wanted and needed in her home state of Texas. (President Biden extended an invitation to Cox for his State of the Union address and mentioned Cox by name: “Her own life and ability to have children in the future were at risk. It’s happening to too many others.”)

Her story is one of millions that must be shared, and this is mine.

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From an early age, I observed the profound impact that a lack of reproductive choices can have on individuals and families. I am the granddaughter of Chinese immigrants, and my father was the eldest of 12—the first in his family to be born in the U.S. My grandmother came to this country at a young age through an arranged marriage. As a hard-working operator of a small laundry service, she faced limited options in many aspects of life and society, including healthcare. 

My mother is an only child, and my maternal grandmother’s dream of motherhood was realized through adoption, after facing challenges conceiving and carrying a pregnancy to term. The contrasting reproductive journeys within my family were an early eye-opener to the significant and life-altering role of reproductive health.  

I have often cited these early observations as fuel that propelled me on my career path and life’s work, dedicating nearly three decades to championing sexual and reproductive health care for everyone, regardless of their circumstances.

But I have been more guarded about my complete reproductive journey. Considering where we have been, where we are, and where we might go as a nation at a pivotal crossroads, I feel compelled to share my whole truth.

My husband and I chose the safety and stability of our family over the risks of another pregnancy. We wanted to ensure that my daughter had a mother, and I wanted my husband to have a wife.

I am very open, publicly and privately, about my experience getting pregnant at the age of 19. After processing my initial internal feelings, the path forward was clear. Fortunately, I had the love and support of my mother throughout the process and was able to continue my college education and earn my degree.

I haven’t been as entirely forthcoming, beyond my inner circle, about all aspects of my reproductive experience: I have had three abortions, one miscarriage, and given birth once—to my beloved daughter.

My second abortion was during my 20s, at the start of my career. I knew I didn’t want to be pregnant and that I wasn’t ready to be a mother yet. With no emotional connection to the pregnancy, I ended it and felt at peace with my choice.  

Fast forward 10 years, my husband and I decided to start a family. For the first time, I knew what it felt like to fully embody and cherish being pregnant. Every day brought hope, and our lives were filled with joyful anticipation.

Then, there was spotting, and no longer a heartbeat. I was prescribed medication to complete the miscarriage and experience my early pregnancy loss at home. The end of a very wanted pregnancy came with tremendous grief, and my husband and I mourned together.

Not long after we were able to try again, we were blessed with a healthy pregnancy, though it was not without its challenges. My daughter arrived two months prematurely amidst a medical crisis that saw me experiencing a seizure and being placed in a coma—a harrowing experience we were incredibly fortunate to survive. 

In less than a year, I was pregnant again. Our doctor told us there was a 40 percent chance of the same potential health dangers, including mortality, that we were lucky to escape the first time. It was not an easy decision, but my husband and I chose the safety and stability of our family over the risks of another pregnancy. We wanted to ensure that my daughter had a mother, and I wanted my husband to have a wife.

Through these shared narratives, we can evolve perspectives, reduce stigma and foster a culture of care.

As we brace and prepare for potential shifts this year, the power of telling our personal reproductive stories can be a catalyst for change and a beacon of solidarity. I hope that by telling my full story, others will be encouraged to do the same by knowing that they are not alone. We saw this in great numbers with the #MeToo movement, and new policies and social norms have emerged as a result of that groundswell of bravery and owning our personal and collective truth.

Through these shared narratives, we can evolve perspectives, reduce stigma and foster a culture of care. We all know and love someone who has been deeply impacted by their reproductive journey, and in many cases, the one we have to show the most compassion for in our thoughts and actions is ourselves.

Editor’s note: For help, please look to these trusted groups:

(Thanks to Jessica Valenti of Abortion, Every Day for this list.)

Up next:

U.S. democracy is at a dangerous inflection point—from the demise of abortion rights, to a lack of pay equity and parental leave, to skyrocketing maternal mortality, and attacks on trans health. Left unchecked, these crises will lead to wider gaps in political participation and representation. For 50 years, Ms. has been forging feminist journalism—reporting, rebelling and truth-telling from the front-lines, championing the Equal Rights Amendment, and centering the stories of those most impacted. With all that’s at stake for equality, we are redoubling our commitment for the next 50 years. In turn, we need your help, Support Ms. today with a donation—any amount that is meaningful to you. For as little as $5 each month, you’ll receive the print magazine along with our e-newsletters, action alerts, and invitations to Ms. Studios events and podcasts. We are grateful for your loyalty and ferocity.

About

Amy Moy, based in the Bay Area, is co-CEO of Essential Access Health, a nonprofit focused on expanding equitable access to sexual and reproductive healthcare services to everyone regardless of race, income, sexual orientation, insurance coverage or citizenship.