Reproductive health

A guide to abortion services and information for people in Ireland.

Aoife O'Riordan, , , , , , , 2 Comments

This post is inspired by and adapted from a post originally published  at Feminism and Tea, also on the topic of abortion services. However: this is me saying all of it, and I take full responsibility for that.

Picture of a coathanger and the number "8th", crossed out in red.

Abortion is illegal in almost all circumstances in Ireland. In this post is information on the legal situation in the Republic, and how you can get the services you need. I’ll be sharing information on both legal and illegal methods of accessing safe abortions. If you need to use the latter, be careful! I’ll advise you on precautions that you can take to make sure everything goes smoothly and you get what you need. Continue reading “A guide to abortion services and information for people in Ireland.” →

A guide to abortion services and information for people in Ireland.
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Abortion: choice and the right to make our own mistakes.

Aoife O'Riordan, , , , , , , , , 6 Comments

Here’s a thing you hear a lot from anti-choicers: Pro-choices don’t care about women. You see, they’ve heard stories from women who had abortions- or maybe even had one themselves. Those women feel immense regret, guilt and heartbreak over what they did. Their abortions were traumatic. How can pro-choice people be so heartless as to encourage others to do something that hurt them so much?

It’s a good question. It’s a difficult one to look at. It’s also easy for us as pro-choice activists to view it as disengenuous. I know plenty people who have no regrets over their abortions. I’ve heard the other stories. The ones where women remember their abortions as a positive decision.

But if we’re going to be intellectually honest, I think we need to take on the idea of abortion regret. Head on. So let’s take a look at it.

Some people regret their abortions.

This is true. I wish it weren’t so- it must be heartbreaking to know that you made the wrong decision on something so important.

Everybody has regrets. Nobody gets through their lives without making a decision that they wish they hadn’t. I can think of dozens of things that I wish I’d done differently, from the simple (if only I had studied this instead of that. If only I hadn’t wolfed down my lunch today because oh god you can’t die of indigestion can you?) to the almost unbearable.

On one hand, it seems like it would be wonderful to protect people from the pain of regret. Who wouldn’t like a chance to take a time machine to a version of themselves twenty years younger?

Of course, none of us will ever get that chance. We never know for certain if we will regret something, or look back on it with relief. We weigh up our options and we do the best that we can.

Yes, there are people who regret having abortions, and whose hearts will always be a little broken by their decisions. There are also people- although it’s even harder for them to share their story- who know that the decision to have children was a mistake. And there are people who have made either choice who know that it was the right thing to do.
Why might people regret abortions? How can we prevent this?

To be pro choice is to acknowledge one principle: that we are the people most qualified to make decisions about our bodies and lives. And yet, we know that none of our decisions are made in a vacuum. Our life circumstances play a role. So do our own biases. These affect not only the decisions we make, but also how we feel about them. So let’s look at why people might have abortions that they regretted, and see if there’s anything they we can do about it. (Spoilers: there is)

What choice?

I have something in common with anti-choicers. Neither of us want anyone to feel forced into abortion.

You see, pro-choice is not pro-abortion. Not specifically, anyway. We can say this without disparaging abortion. Let me be clear: I think that abortion should be safe, legal, freely available and rare happen precisely as often as it needs to. If that means it is rare? Great. If that means that every pregnant person has a dozen? Great. That is infinitely preferable to everyone having a handful of children they never wanted.

But pro-choice is not about abortion. We don’t advocate for abortion rights because the procedure is special. We do so because it is both necessary and denied. Ireland’s constitution states clearly that it is perfectly acceptable to force a pregnant person to become a parent against their will. I disagree.

And yet even in Ireland many people terminate pregnancies that they would have loved to continue. No wonder they have regrets. And no wonder it happens. Parenthood is an immense commitment, and it’s one that we expect people to do with little support. We act like love is enough- but all the love in the world doesn’t put food on the table. It doesn’t clothe a child, or buy their schoolbooks. And it definitely doesn’t give a parent the ability to be in two places at once. Becoming a parent is always going to require commitment and devotion. All too often, it also means giving up on your own life. No wonder people feel like they don’t have a choice.

Of course, there is a solution to this. It’s a simple one, but it’s not easy. If we don’t want people to have to terminate wanted pregnancies, we have to support parents and children. We need to give parents the financial support they need to provide for their children. We need affordable, accessible daycare facilities so that people- mostly women- don’t have to choose between parenthood and education or a fulfilling career. We need adequate parental leave. We need to create a culture where parents of all genders are encouraged to take an equal role in raising children.

Shame and Regret

I read a story recently. A woman, talking about an abortion that she had when she was younger. She said that she could never tell her family about what she had done. But the reason for her termination? Her family would have disowned her if they knew she was pregnant in the first place.

I’m not sure how she felt about her decision. But let’s imagine that she regretted it. I’m sure people in that situation have.

If we want to prevent this? We need to never, ever shame people for being pregnant. Or for being mothers too young (or too poor, or too single). The idea that there is only one respectable way to parent is toxic. It doesn’t prevent pregnancies- for that you need contraception, which people are far less likely to use if they are shamed. All it does is make life more difficult for people parenting in different situations. And makes it far more likely that people who might have wanted to have a kid will feel pressure to terminate. Often from the same people who would call them murderers if they heard about what they’d done.

If you want people not to do a thing? You have to make the alternative feel possible.

Regret Happens

Let’s picture a more ideal world. In this world, pregnant people and parents are supported unconditionally. The best reproductive medical care is freely available. Parents have all the supports they need from the moment their child is born. Parental leave is generous and fully-paid. Daycare is the best quality, easily affordable, heavily subsidised for low-income parents, and easy to get to no matter where you work or study. As well as this? Everyone’s grown up with fantastic sex and relationships education. The society has gotten over its hangups about sex and pregnancy. And any kind of birth control that you might want is free and accessible.

(Aside: I want to live in that world. Now, please.)

That world, by the way, is one that people on all sides of the abortion-rights spectrum should be gunning for. And if you’re not? Then I’m really not sure why you’re here.

Even in that world, some people will make decisions they regret. It’ll happen less, of course. But humans are profoundly imperfect. Sometimes we mess up. We never act with perfect information. There are always things that we don’t know.

There will always be regrets. And you know something? That’s okay.

In every other area of life, we acknowledge that people don’t always have to be perfect. None of us gets through life without making mistakes sometimes. And even when we did the best we could and things worked out wonderfully, there’ll always be a small part of us that wonders what could have been. We understand this, don’t we?

With the right to make our own choices, will some people wish they chose differently? Of course. Will that ever be worth taking those choices away from us? Never.

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Abortion: choice and the right to make our own mistakes.

Abortion: Is it safe? Who decides? And what about birth control?

Aoife O'Riordan, , , , , , , , 1 Comment

An interesting comment showed up in my filter the other day. It’s a reply to a guest post from Penny Gets Lucky back in February, Pro-Life vs Pro-Choice: Missing the Point, where Penny argues that if you want to prevent abortions, there are far better ways that criminalising and demonising the people who have them. Here’s the comment, from Jemalacane:

The thing I don’t like about abortion the most is that sometimes, both the mother and child will die during. If I were a husband or boyfriend, I would rather you spare my wife or girlfriend though. I’d rather the unborn child die than her. If someone can come up with a way which makes it nearly impossible for a woman to die while going through an abortion, I would be much less hostile to abortions.

I also do not think abortion is a necessary form of birth control. That’s what contraception is for. It’s better to prevent the pregnancy than to terminate it.

This comment raises several important questions. Is abortion dangerous? What is the role of partners in deciding whether someone can have an abortion? And, of course, the question of whether abortion is a preferable method of birth control.

Let’s get the last two out of the way first.

It’s better to prevent the pregnancy than terminate it.

Yes! Yes, it is. With the exception of cases of fatal fetal abnormality and threats to the health or life of the pregnant person, people who seek abortions generally don’t want to be pregnant. Pregnancy was not part of the plan, and even if the pregnant person knew immediately that abortion was what they wanted to do and didn’t have any difficulty with that decision, a certain amount of stress is almost inevitable. In Ireland, where abortions involve travelling overseas, this is doubly the case. Even without that, it seems silly to suggest that someone would, all else being equal, prefer to undergo an uncomfortable medical procedure instead of preventing it. Medical abortion pills cause painful cramps, and who actually enjoys being trussed up in stirrups for any kind of gyno visit? Contraception is normally a hell of a lot easier, and there are enough different methods around that most people can find something that suits them fairly well.

There’s just a few problems. We haven’t yet invented an infallible method of contraception (aside from having the kinds of sex where there’s no more than one kind of gamete around. I gather that a lot of people don’t swing that way, though). We do a terrible job of educating young people about sex and birth control. And people commit rape and sexual assault every day.

It is, in most cases, better to prevent a pregnancy than to terminate it. But once you’re pregnant, you don’t have the option of going back in time and changing what happened weeks or months ago. Once you’re pregnant, the decisions left to you are to carry to term, or to terminate. While sometimes it might feel like both of those options, quite frankly, suck? It’s what you’re stuck with.

And yes, we should do a lot more work around preventing people from getting pregnant when they don’t want to. And around empowering people to make all kinds of informed decisions about their bodies. Let’s do that too!

If I were a husband or boyfriend, I would rather you spare my wife or girlfriend though. I’d rather the unborn child die than her.

That’s… nice? I’m glad you think that way? I’d like to be honest about one thing before I go further: this was the only part of this comment that annoyed me. If you’re reading this, Jemalacane- and I do hope you are- then I’d like to state for the record that I can see that you’re probably not trying to say anything hurtful or damaging here. And I’d ask you to read this next part carefully.

There’s just one thing, though. If I were a girlfriend or wife, and you were a doctor, I would rather you ask me about what medical procedures you carry out on my body. I’d rather you ask me if I would want you to risk my life to save my pregnancy, or if I would choose for you to do everything necessary to save my life.

If I were a girlfriend or a wife of someone who would prefer to put me in danger to continue a pregnancy, against my will? I would want a doctor to take absolutely no notice whatsoever of what that person, who is not me, said. And if I were to be unconscious and unable to have those conversations with my doctor? I would want that doctor to act in the best interests of their patient- me– and not listen to anyone who tells them otherwise.

In short, I do not want my life to be dependant on whether or not I’m currently making wise decisions about dating. I would really prefer if the worst consequences of bad dating decisions were epic facepalming, having my friends sit me down and ask me if I don’t think I might do better, and some embarrassing memories. I’d like to be alive to have those, thanks.

With that question firmly sorted out, let’s go to the last- but by no means least- question. Here we go:

The thing I don’t like about abortion the most is that sometimes, both the mother and child will die during.

That sure is a point. It’s a scary one at that. If you feel that abortion risks the pregnant person’s life, then I can see how it would disturb you! I would never want to advocate something that would hurt and endanger people.

Looking at statistics, though, we find that abortion is safer for a pregnant person than carrying to term. Much safer, in fact. A person is fourteen times more likely to die during or after giving birth than they are of any complications following abortion! I’m going to say that again, because it’s a staggering figure- you’re fourteen times more likely to die from giving birth than abortion.

This doesn’t mean that I’m going to go picket antenatal units and GPs offices around the country, begging women not to have babies because of the risk to their lives. The vast majority of women survive pregnancy and birth, and they have the right to make informed choices and bear and raise children. It simply means that, of all the reasons that a person could choose to oppose abortion, the minuscule risk of life-threatening complications simply doesn’t add up.

Except.

Except where abortion is illegal. While only one person in 167,000 will die from a legal and safe abortion, death rates for unsafe abortions- which are what pregnant people will and do turn to when they have no legal alternative- are, according to the WHO, 350 times higher. Three hundred and fifty times higher. And that’s just counting the women who actually die. Add to that the incidence of complications that don’t kill outright, and you have a massive, preventable health crisis on your hands.

If the thing that you don’t like most about abortion is risking the lives of the people who have them? The single best way to prevent that and save lives is to make abortion legal and accessible to everyone who needs one.

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Abortion: Is it safe? Who decides? And what about birth control?

Gushing & Giving

Aoife O'Riordan, , , , , , 5 Comments
It’s Guest Week! While I’m off visiting the Ladyfriend, I’ve handed over the Tea Cosy to a bunch of the best guest posters a blogger could wish for. Today’s post comes courtesy of Tori from Anytime Yoga. A secondary teacher in the US, Tori enjoys many things in life: making education and critical thought fun for her students, making yoga accessible to her blog readers, and writing about sexual and reproductive health with frankness. As for other things in life — namely, running, writing catchy author bios, and remembering to do the dishes — well, those she is working on. 😉

 

Note: This post discusses menstrual bleeding and blood donation. It also contains a brief mention of miscarriage.

 

I saved three lives today. At least, that’s what the sticker from the American Red Cross blood drive tells me.

My donation experience today was surprisingly easy. I mean less in terms of wait time or needle sticks and more in terms of how my body reacts. For example, my blood pressure was normal, even as I anticipated them checking my iron. More than that, my hemoglobin was well into the healthy range — something I’ve not seen in a good long while. The donation itself — from needle in to needle out — took under five minutes. When it was over, I could promptly sit up, stand up, and walk myself over to the canteen — all without feeling flushed, lightheaded, or like I was on the verge of passing out. At the canteen, I did stay the required minimum of ten minutes, but I felt physically well enough to go long before I finished my water and Cheez Its.

All of this is a far cry from the last several times I gave blood. I used to do it in my late teens and early twenties. While my iron was technically high enough to qualify, blood donation left me feeling fatigued, dizzy, and nauseated for the next day or two. For a number of years in between then and now, I was altogether too anemic to donate, to the extent of being far more likely to need blood than to be able to safely give it.

See, among other idiosyncrasies, I have a menstrual history of chronic pain and gushing [explicit menstruation/bleeding talk at that link too]. It had always happened — and my iron had always been borderline — but after a miscarriage in my mid twenties, my hemoglobin levels plummeted and never really recovered. I mean, to the extent that being only “moderately” instead of “severely” anemic is not really recovering. Because it involved constant — not just period-long — symptoms, it was easy to feel like a lot of my physical life limits stemmed from my menstrual flooding. Limits which, now that I am healthy enough to give blood easily, are vastly reduced in scope and severity.

It’s difficult to explain why this is important to me. While giving blood is a nice and helpful thing to do for other people, it’s not like choosing to do it renders one morally or socially superior. And yet, when I couldn’t give blood**, I often felt inferior — like there was something wrong with me that made me not good enough to donate blood. Regardless of what, if anything, can be done about it, it’s uncomfortable and disheartening to repeatedly bump up against feelings of not good enough.

Ironically, the thing that made me healthy enough to donate comfortably is something others think may not be good for me in the long run. I started a new birth control pill over the summer. Though my periods have not become what I would term “light,” they have lost their, “Dear God, how is there any blood left on the inside?” feeling. With the iron rich eating habits I’ve adopted over the years (kale + me = BFF), my hemoglobin has soared to record levels. There’s still the pain issue to deal with, but not being so draggy all the time makes even that easier to manage.

Generally, I just feel better.

Until such a time that someone hears that I’m on birth control pills — let alone my particular brand of pill*** — and starts getting all concerned, as one “someone” also did today.

“The estrogen in birth control pills can increase your risk for heart attack and stroke.”

“Which pill? Isn’t that the one with all the lawsuits?”

“That’s the one where one of the ingredients carries, like, double the risk of blood clots.”

“And your doctor is okay with you taking that? At your age and weight?”

You know what? All these things? Technically supported by evidence. I do not dispute that this medication increases my risk for some adverse health outcomes. That said, it improves my quality of life. And also? All these things? Asked and answered, multiple prior times in my life.

I’m never going to please every person who’d like to weigh in on my health. But I’m also getting to the point where I’m comfortable articulating the believe that I never have been under any social or moral obligation to do so (though I would suggest that social pressure is another matter entirely). As long as I’m not harming others with my decisions — and I think it would be pretty difficult to harm others with my personal health choices — then I get to prioritize my health as I see fit. I get to be the boss of my body.

I get this one shot at being alive and having a body. It’s hard enough to learn how to cope when my body doesn’t behave as I’d like it to. Other people’s hangups about my body and my health are going to have to remain just that — the concerns of other people.

________________________________________________________________________

** I’m a faculty advisor to a student organization that organizes multiple blood drives each year, so there’s ample opportunity for me to come across “Give Blood Today!” messages.

*** I participate in some online discussion spaces devoted to my same health issues, so this isn’t necessarily a matter of random folk on the street asking about what I’m doing to secure the state of my uterus.

Gushing & Giving