It doesn't matter if a woman regrets her abortion. That's what the March for Life and Donald Trump don't realize

Becca from Tennessee spoke to me about feeling she'd been coerced into her abortion. She still supports reproductive rights for all women

Trump spoke this morning at the March for Life rally in Washington DC (Getty Images)

The attack on legal access to abortion hit a fever pitch in 2019, and 2020 shows no signs of reprieve. On January 2nd, over 200 GOP lawmakers signed an AMICUS brief urging the US Supreme Court to revisit and overturn Roe v Wade, the landmark Supreme Court case that solidified abortion as a constitutional right. Republican senators in Iowa are attempting to amend their state’s constitution so that it no longer protects abortion rights, Gov. Bill Lee of Tennessee introduced a so-called “fetal heartbeat” bill that would essentially ban abortion in the state if passed, and today President Donald Trump — once proudly pro-choice until he needed the evangelical vote to secure the presidency — has become the first president in US history to attend the anti-abortion “Right To Life” march.

Despite overwhelming public support for abortion access (77 per cent of Americans do not want Roe v Wade overturned) anti-abortion lawmakers are continuing to push pro-forced birth legislation under the guise of safety and a false concern for the health and wellbeing of pregnant people. The so-called “March For Life” has attempted to re-brand itself as “pro-woman,” arguing that denying women access to abortion protects them, even though studies have shown women who are denied access are more likely to experience economic hardship and the children they already have are more likely to suffer.

This year, the March For Life’s theme is “Life Empowers: Pro-Life is Pro-Woman,” where the president accused of sexual assault, harassment, and/or rape by over 20 women will continue to spread anti-abortion lies — most notably about abortions that occur later in pregnancy — that put women who seek abortion services in danger.

Unnecessary abortion provider restrictions — like requiring admitting privileges to hospitals — are enacted to “make abortion safer,” even though abortion is safer than having your wisdom teeth removed, safer than undergoing a colonoscopy, and 14 times safer than childbirth. Mandatory waiting periods, mandatory counseling, invasive ultrasounds, and outright bans are all legislated with the claim that they “protect” people who choose abortion from mental illness and feelings of regret, even though numerous studies have shown that abortion doesn’t cause depression (in fact, the inability to access abortion when someone wants and/or needs to does) and a recent study found that five years after an abortion procedure, 95 per cent of people do not regret their decision.

Combatting the outright lies of the anti-abortion movement isn’t difficult — at this point, they’re using straight science fiction to try to explain away their indecency and blatant disregard for the inherent humanity of pregnant people — but their willingness to continue to spew disinformation does make championing the truth time-consuming.

It also makes it easy to overlook the people who do have negative feelings about their abortions. We forget that, in regards to public policy, it doesn’t matter if someone ends up regretting their decision to have an abortion. So instead of regaining control of this bad-faith anti-abortion argument and acknowledging that one person’s regret, while important to them and a cause for continued support, does not negate another person’s necessity to access reproductive health care when they need and want, we rely heavily on the 95 per cent of people who do not feel contrite about their abortions… and ignore the people who do.

“My partner told me that I would make a horrible mother, listed the reasons why, and told me he would die by suicide if I kept the pregnancy,” Becca, 30, told me when I spoke to her about her own experience. “I wasn’t entirely on board with the idea of having an abortion and didn’t realize at the time that my partner was coercing me. I knew that if I had to sit through a waiting period or counseling or see an ultrasound that I would change my mind. But my partner told me this is what he wanted, told me that this wouldn’t be our last chance at having a child, and that we’d stay together.”

Becca lives in Tennessee, but because of already existing anti-abortion laws had to travel to Atlanta, Georgia to procure a medication abortion. She had her abortion at home without any support from her then-partner, who she later learned was having relationships with multiple women while they were dating. “I think the coercion was because he didn’t want to ‘fess up and tell the truth to all the other women he was seeing,” she says.

Becca regrets her abortion and the circumstances surrounding it. “I didn’t have the chance to just have my abortion and grieve and be alone with it,” she explains. “I know for a lot of people having an abortion isn’t a big deal, but unfortunately for me that’s not my story. I think about it every day. It’s a choice I didn’t take lightly.”

But Becca’s personal feelings regarding her abortion decision haven’t stopped her from advocating for full access to abortion care for all women. After Gov. Bill Lee introduced the most recent “fetal heartbeat” bill in her state, Becca was busy advocating against it.

“I just don’t want to live in a world where people don’t have a choice,” she says. “But when I speak up I am at risk of becoming a mouthpiece for the anti-abortion movement; for people to go, ‘See, here’s someone who regrets their abortion!’ And I don’t want to be their voice. I just want women with stories like mine to know they’re not alone.”

The crystal-clear vision of hindsight can bring with it feelings of guilt and regret and a slew of “what ifs.” When I was pregnant with twins and lost Twin A at 19 weeks’ gestation, I was devastated. Now, as a mother to a five- and one-year-old, I feel twinges of thankfulness for the outcome that at one time left me weeping on a hospital floor. Could I have handled two newborns at once, knowing how heavy the weight of postpartum depression and sleep deprivation and breastfeeding and the simple-yet-incredibly demanding responsibilities of motherhood really are? I doubt it. What once felt like a betrayal now feels like a kindness.

And what was once a need in a very specific moment in someone’s life — like an abortion — can go on to feel like a mistake.

People like Becca and experiences of abortion regret do exist, but their existence isn’t at war with the need for unimpeded access to abortion care. What matters is that when someone needs or wants an abortion, they can have one. What matters is that we honor the complexity of people’s reproductive lives, and stand firm in the knowledge that there is no one correct way to feel about abortion. What matters is that we protect these experiences, and forbid the anti-choice movement from co-opting them for nefarious, inhumane reasons.

Of the many campaign promises Donald Trump made in 2016, he has managed to keep one: placing anti-abortion judges on the Supreme Court in order to make abortion illegal in the United States — a goal Trump and the anti-abortion movement shroud in fake concern for women that will, in no uncertain terms, lead to more women and pregnant people jailed for self-managing their abortions.

If those within the anti-abortion movement truly cared about the wellbeing of women, they’d work to secure reproductive justice for all, so that people can parent how they want, when they want, affordably and safely,, and in supportive communities that also offer legal, safe, affordable access to abortion care.