Coronavirus

The Brutal Reality of Getting an Abortion During a Pandemic

“I really wouldn’t want to be you right now,” one nurse told me.
Pregnancy test over map of US
Bella Geraci / Getty Images

There’s no easy way for me to put this, so I’m just going to flat-out say it: Right now, the state of the world has reached dystopian levels. The coronavirus is infecting thousands daily, quarantines and social distancing efforts are predicted to be in effect until at least April 30 in the United States, and hand sanitizers and disinfecting wipes have become rare precious jewels to hoard.

But while the world was completely tuned in to the news and the government’s next steps in the battle of COVID-19, I was completely tuned out. In the midst of the madness, I found out I was seven weeks pregnant and facing the reality of trying to get an abortion during a pandemic.

Two positive pregnancy tests stared back at me during one of the most horrific times in global history. The world was preparing to go on lockdown, everyone was dousing themselves in disinfectant spray, and I couldn’t fathom any of it due to the constant knowledge that I was pregnant.

That I wanted to get an abortion was never a question: I barely knew the person who got me pregnant, I have fertility issues that could cause trouble if I decided to carry to term, and most important, I’m in no way prepared to have a child—especially now that the world is falling apart. But getting an abortion pre-coronavirus was nearly impossible for many women—the thought of getting one during a pandemic was terrifying.

“The reasons people seek abortions do not go away during a pandemic,” says Jen Villavicencio, M.D., an ob-gyn, abortion caregiver, and fellow with Physicians for Reproductive Health. “There will still be health concerns, severe fetal diagnoses, financial barriers, desires to preserve family resources, and many other very important, well-thought-out reasons—in fact, many of these reasons and needs will likely increase during times of crisis.”

I live in New York State, where abortion clinics are considered essential services that can continue operating during this time, but some states—such as Texas, Ohio, and Louisiana—have tried using the coronavirus pandemic as a new means of restricting abortions, forcing clinics to cancel patients’ appointments for both surgical and medicated abortions by deeming them “unessential services.” The only exception? Danger to the mother’s life. That means women seeking abortions—even in cases of rape and incest—are being forced to drive across state lines if they want any hope of receiving care during a time when staying at home is more essential than ever.

Since the order in Texas was placed on March 23, Amna Dermish, M.D., regional medical director at Planned Parenthood of Greater Texas, notes that their clinics across the state had to cancel 261 appointments for patients seeking abortions and turn away 583 calls for patients who are trying to make appointments during that same week. “These people need access to a time-sensitive service, and we had to be the ones to call them and say that we can't take care of you right now. That takes a big emotional toll on the people who make those calls as well as our patients,” Dermish says. “It's not something that anybody who works in health care wants to have to do. And the reactions we’re getting from our patients: They’re angry, they're frustrated, they’re sad, despair. It’s a really hard thing to tell somebody, and it’s a hard thing for our patients to process.”

States deeming abortion care a nonessential service point to the conservation of critical personal protective equipment (PPE) as the driving factor. But according to providers, that’s not accurate. “It is critical to understand that neither medication abortion nor procedural abortion requires extensive personal protective equipment (PPE)—and the conservation of PPE is the stated reason for state orders directing providers and health systems to delay nonessential procedures and surgeries,” says Elisabeth Smith, chief counsel of state policy and advocacy at the Center for Reproductive Rights. “In Texas, Attorney General Paxton said that most abortions, other than those performed in an immediate medical emergency, would violate the Executive Order, but this does not make sense, especially in the context of medication abortion.”

Many states, such as Texas, require women to make two trips to a clinic to access medication abortion. “These restrictions are medically unnecessary all the time, but now put patients and providers at risk unnecessarily through additional and medically unnecessary face-to-face contact,” says Smith. That’s become another claim states are using in their fight to restrict abortions. “It is clear that Texas is using the COVID-19 pandemic as cover to further its goal of prohibiting abortion.”

There are glimmers of hope: Federal judges in Alabama and Ohio recently blocked orders banning nonessential medical procedures from limiting abortion access during the coronavirus outbreak. However, these blocks are only temporary, with Ohio’s order lasting until April 13, giving women only a short timeframe to get the access they need. In the case of Texas, federal judges also tried blocking orders limiting abortion, but their efforts had been overturned by an appeals court as of March 31.

Even for women who can access abortion care during the coronavirus outbreak, the procedure can be expensive. Like many health insurance providers, mine does not cover abortion, which forced me to shell out $550 of my paycheck. I’m privileged to be able to work from home during this time, but millions of women have lost their jobs, making the financial burden of an abortion too much to shoulder.

By many accounts, I faced the “best” possible situation: abortion clinics in my state were still operational, I was able to access a clinic while following social distancing guidelines, there were no mandatory waiting periods that forced me to visit more than once, and I remain employed with a steady stream of income.

Still, I can’t ignore the trauma I faced in order to get an abortion in the middle of a pandemic.

Like many women during the best of times, I had to call gynecologist after gynecologist to find someone who took my health insurance (a form of Medicaid that isn’t accepted by many doctors) and could squeeze me into their schedule as soon as possible. And when I finally found one who would see me, the whole process was put into hyperspeed since no one knew if the federal government would force clinics nationwide to shut down. There was no time to process what was going on. Some nurses seemed to treat me more as a walking germ to be cautiously handled than a patient. One turned to me and said, “I really wouldn’t want to be you right now.”

The comment stung, but in a way she was right: I really didn’t want to be me at that moment.

I wanted to opt for a dilation and curettage procedure, also known as a D&C or surgical abortion. But with the future of access to care in the age of COVID-19 so uncertain, the clinic suggested I have a medication abortion so I could have same-day access, rather than taking a risk and scheduling a future appointment for the procedure. I was lucky to even have an option—I was still in the early stages of my pregnancy, so either method was feasible, but I preferred the D&C procedure because the abortion pill can have more side-effects and a somewhat lower success rate.

The abortion pill was not easy on my body: I spent days throwing up, bleeding heavily, and experiencing “labor-like” cramps, all possible side-effects of the medication. At one point I fainted in my bathroom from the pain. This isn’t necessarily common, but in my case, the cramps and nausea proved too much for my body to handle all at once. [Editor’s note: Experience of side-effects may vary, but if you experience nausea, vomiting, or a fever for more than 24 hours, you should call your doctor, according to Planned Parenthood.] The physical complications mixed with the emotional toll and burden of trying to keep my abortion a secret as I quarantined with my family felt like mental torture. I felt so alone, and while I had a small group of friends as close as a text on my phone, I wish I had been able to have someone physically hold my hand during this time.

It’s been almost two weeks since I had my abortion, and even with the trauma I’m left to live with, I don’t regret a single step I took. Yes, it was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to go through, and having to navigate this journey while the world—and me—is in a state of valid paranoia made it that much harder. To have gotten the procedure I needed, when so many women cannot, and to be able to sit still and take this time to heal in the comfort of my childhood home is the only silver lining in this situation. After going through all of this, I’m a little more hopeful that everything will, eventually, be okay. Maybe not soon, but one day I’ll be able to fully heal from the trauma of my abortion, and the world will heal from this pandemic.

But for now, all we can do is take it one day—and one Lysol wipe—at a time.

At the author’s request, we’ve omitted her last name to protect her privacy.