My mother had an illegal abortion and kept it a secret for over 50 years. 

The year was 1967 and she was a 19-year old college student at UCLA majoring in English. She had been in a long-term relationship with her boyfriend at the time, and though they weren’t planning on “going all the way,” one day it just happened. 

At the time, my mother didn’t know anything about contraception as it wasn’t openly discussed by anyone or routinely offered by gynecologists. In fact, at that time women under the age of 21 (the legal age of majority in that era) needed parental approval for birth control pills. It wasn’t until 5 years later, in 1972, that unmarried women over 18 in California were granted access to contraception, and women under the age of legal majority were granted access without parental consent in 1975. As of 1977 the U.S. Supreme Court ruling in Carey v. Population Services International affirmed the constitutional right to privacy for a minor to obtain contraceptives in all states. Since my mother was absolutely terrified of what my grandmother would do if she found out my mother was having sex, birth control was off the table.

After losing her virginity, my mother was a bit nervous, but thought to herself that there was no way anything would happen since it was her first time, and it had only been one time.

Then she missed her period. She started to feel nauseous. There were no at-home pregnancy tests at that time.

Nervousness became fear.

Prior to June of 1967, section 274 of the California Penal Code made it a felony to perform an abortion on a woman for any reason "unless the same is necessary to preserve her life.” In June of 1967, California was one of the first states to broaden abortion access with the enactment of The Therapeutic Abortion Act of California, which authorized a licensed physician to perform an abortion where there is "(1) substantial risk that continuance of the pregnancy would gravely impair the physical or mental health of the mother; [or] (2) the pregnancy resulted from rape or incest.” Unfortunately, mental health was defined narrowly as “mental illness to the extent that the woman is dangerous to herself or to the person or property of others or is in need of supervision or restraint.”

With no legal access to an abortion and little money, my mother’s options were limited. Her boyfriend had a friend who found a doctor in Pasadena who was rumored to perform abortions. The three of them (my mother, her boyfriend, and the friend) drove out to Pasadena from West LA where this doctor confirmed the pregnancy.

Fear became terror.

Her mother (my grandmother) was very narrow-minded and judgmental. She would never tolerate a scandal like an out-of-wedlock pregnancy and my mother had overheard her say that “abortions were for women of questionable backgrounds, or prostitutes.” My mother’s fear of my grandmother’s reaction was so great that my grandmother passed away in 2016 without ever learning the truth.

My mother overcame her nerves and told the doctor, “I can’t have a baby now, my parents will kill me and I’m too young and in college.” He responded, “I’m sorry you drove all the way out here for that because I won’t do it.”

Terror became panic.

She didn’t know what to do. They drove back to West LA. She started asking other girls in her sorority if they hypothetically knew what other girls did in this situation. She couldn’t even tell her friends what was going on, the script of shame and scandal was so ingrained in her. She received some sketchy information from these friends but unfortunately nothing panned out. Meanwhile, she was avoiding my grandmother’s watchful eye, trying to cover up the pregnancy as the first trimester progressed.

Panic became desperation.

My mother was close with a neighbor back then, and told him what was going on and that she was desperate. He said he knew a doctor who would perform the abortion. He made a call, and told my mother to go to a clinic on a specific date and time. My mother would not allow me to publish the name of this clinic for fear that those who worked there might get in trouble, even though it’s been 55 years and abortions are legal (and likely to stay legal) in California. 

She arrived at the clinic with her boyfriend. The doctor and an assistant took a frightened young woman into an office by herself (not an exam room or sterile OR) where she was placed on a table with a sheet on top of it. The doctor performing the abortion was a psychiatrist. Not a gynecologist or obstetrician, not a surgeon, a psychiatrist! Psychiatrists do not receive formal training on how to perform an abortion in medical school or residency.  

My mother had no idea what to expect in the procedure (which sounded like the equivalent of a D&C, or a surgical abortion) since it wasn’t spoken of in those days, and no one at the clinic explained it to her. She was given a valium but no anesthesia, and while she felt spacey she said that it was quite painful. 

Afterwards, they charged her a few hundred dollars, told her about the birth control pill and sent her home. There were no post-procedure instructions, warnings about possible infection, prescribed medication, and no follow up. She never saw the psychiatrist again. Luckily, my mother was fine, and as evidenced by me and my brother, was able to subsequently conceive. 

Sadly, for many women who undergo illegal or unsafe abortions, there is a high risk of serious health problems, such as infection, hemorrhage, infertility, and mortality. Estimates of the number of illegal abortions in the United States, in the 1950s and 1960s range from 200,000 to 1.2 million per year. In 1965, illegal abortion accounted for 17% of all deaths attributed to pregnancy and childbirth that year. Poor women and their families were disproportionately impacted. My mother was fortunate enough to have a few hundred dollars, a friend who knew someone who at least was an MD to perform the procedure, and a boyfriend who was helping her handle the situation. But of the low-income women in one study who said they had had an abortion, 77% said that they had attempted a self-induced procedure (can you imagine!?), with only 2% saying that a physician had been involved in any way. As disturbing as my mother’s abortion story is, it seems that she was actually privileged compared to many women at that time.

One of the worst parts of my mother’s abortion story for me is that after she was sent home, the story ended. For everyone but my mother, that is, who carried the burden of loss, grief and shame with her for the rest of her life. Before she gave me permission to write this article, my father and I were the only two people who knew about the abortion (other than the boyfriend, his friend, and the neighbor who helped my mother find a clinic at the time.) There was no counseling, no support groups, not even a friend to lean on. And of course, no family support.

People seem to think that young women have abortions in the same way that they get a manicure or a haircut - like it’s no big deal. But the truth is that for many women, having an abortion is a huge decision and is fraught with emotions. All of the women I know who have had abortions struggled even though they knew they made the right decision for themselves. Some of those women had stories of accidental pregnancy like my mother, and others needed abortions for other reasons, such as a fetus with severe congenital deformities or a life-threatening genetic disorder, or a selective reduction in the case of identical twins where both fetuses could not survive. These women are experiencing grief, loss and doubt, not carefree glee! 

In my mother’s case, she kept her abortion a secret all these years because she didn’t want people to think she was a “slut,” a “criminal,” a “horrible person” who had destroyed a baby, or even just a stupid young girl who got pregnant. Over time, this had an impact on her self-esteem. There was no compassion, no love, no processing, no forgiveness. 

Years later, when she got pregnant with me she thought about her first pregnancy, the one that she terminated. She did what many women who have abortions do - she wondered what would have been if she hadn’t done it. Whether the baby would have been born, who he or she would have been, or become? She felt a deep sadness in addition to the shame she’d been carrying all those years. But she did not feel regret. 

My mother made a difficult choice 55 years ago. A choice to put herself and her education first and a choice to not bring a life into the world without a stable parent ready and able to support that life. With no college degree, no money, no family support, and no husband, she did not feel that it was the right time for her to have a baby. It doesn’t mean that those choices were easy.

When I attended college in the early 2000’s, the culture of shame and scandal surrounding unplanned, out-of-wedlock pregnancy had greatly diminished. Abortions were legal thanks to Roe v. Wade, birth control became not only acceptable, but in many cases the norm. Resources such as Planned Parenthood for those who couldn’t afford birth control or pregnancy termination existed. 

I was a sophomore at the University of Pennsylvania when I found out I was pregnant. I was actually in the midst of having a miscarriage, and had not known about the pregnancy until I was in the ER because I thought I was hemorraging. I remember thanking God that I didn’t have to go through an abortion and that the choice had been made for me. But I know that I would have had one, because I was an immature child who had major education and career aspirations. Had I given birth to a child back then, I’m not sure I would have graduated from college. I would likely never have become a lawyer. I would never have lived abroad for 5 years, starting an NGO for cancer patients and their families. I would likely never have started my own coaching business. And I suspect I never would have married my wonderful husband at the age of 35, or had my beautiful daughter Ella just last year.

And even though the decision to terminate the pregnancy wasn’t in my control, I still felt an incredible amount of shame and sadness at that time. I actually didn’t tell my parents, not because I was afraid they wouldn’t support me, but because I was embarrassed. But I did tell my friends, and I did have access to counseling. And if I had needed an abortion, I likely would have told my parents and/or had access to a safe and legal abortion in some other way.

It took me a while to get pregnant with Ella. I carry the BRCA gene mutation, and as a result I was diagnosed with breast cancer in my twenties. The chemotherapy I received damaged my eggs, and I had to go through IVF multiple times in order to conceive. Now that I’ve experienced pregnancy and given birth, I cannot fathom anyone other than my doctor trying to tell me what to do with my body. There is nothing more personal or private than our reproductive experience. There is a reason we have separation of church and state in this country. Not everyone has religious beliefs that would preclude abortion, or IVF for that matter (it’s a slippery slope!)

It’s hard to believe that all of the progress we have made now stands threatened and that in nearly half of the United States, a country that prides itself on freedom and a pioneer in healthcare, we are about to roll back to 1967. We are about to endanger the lives and futures of countless women who will choose to have unsafe abortions, and countless children who will be born into a world to parents who can’t support them. I now live in Pennsylvania, where abortion is still legal (with some troubling limitations) but hangs on a thread. 

What will happen to Ella if she is in need of an abortion one day? Will she take advantage of her privilege and confide in me or her father so that we can help her? Will she pretend to visit her grandparents in California and sneak off to have a legal abortion? Will she find some shady clinic or doctor like my mom did and have an abortion in secret, with no follow up, no anesthsia, and no psychological support? Or will my worst nightmare come true if she takes matters into her own hands, endangering her life and her future? I shudder to think of what things will be like for those who lack the privilege, finances, and options that my daughter has.

When I interviewed my mother for this article, I asked her what she would have said to me if I had told her I was pregnant in college. She said, “It would have been your choice and I would have supported you no matter what.” Thanks Mom. I hope that you can finally let go and find peace. And Ella baby, if you should ever find yourself in this situation, I just want to say ditto.