Thirty-five years ago, I gave birth to a stillborn son at 28 weeks gestation. This was my first pregnancy and my husband and I were devastated.

We held our son and tearfully examined his body, his abnormalities serving as a heartbreaking confirmation that, despite my efforts at a healthy pregnancy, I could not prevent the extra chromosome attachment or genetic disorder. I remember fixing my gaze on his tiny mouth and lips because they were perfectly formed. Little else was.

We later learned that he had serious life-threatening organ malformations; had he gone to term, he would have died within a year. “Much pain and suffering” were the words one doctor used. I could not conceive of such an agonizing existence for my child.

Days earlier, when it was clear that my baby was no longer alive, I had chosen to medically induce labor after consultation with my obstetrician and my husband. I ran the risk of infection if I waited for labor to occur naturally. In addition, I could not bear the emotional anguish one more day.

It was my choice, my body, my health.

Inducing delivery of a stillborn baby is not considered abortion. I know that. I also know, firsthand, the profound heartbreak of losing a baby. I empathize with women who get the devastating news that their child has life-threatening abnormalities, or that there is insufficient amniotic fluid to sustain their baby’s development, or that their lives are at risk if their pregnancy goes to term. Ask yourself whether our laws ought to punish a grieving mother for choosing to terminate a crisis pregnancy of any kind.

In total, I’ve had five pregnancies and two live births. I’m the mother of two daughters, “Mimi” to one granddaughter. Few of my friends know my reproductive history because it’s been a painful past I have not wished to relive. I’m talking about it now because the Supreme Court decision to repeal Roe v. Wade ensures that my daughters have fewer rights than I did when I was their age.

If I were beginning my childbearing years now, would I need to justify myself to those outside my medical team and close family members? “Why five pregnancies and only two live births?”

“You say you carried a child to 28 weeks? We’ll need the name of your obstetrician.”

Would I have had the choice to receive medical or surgical intervention if I had had incomplete miscarriages? “We’re sorry, but you’ll have to take the risk of sepsis or perhaps hemorrhaging. Further treatment is considered illegal.”

This isn’t an exaggeration. According to a June 23 story in the Texas Tribune, doctors are already delaying or withholding care for pregnancy complications for fear of being sued under that state’s law. One maternal-fetal medical specialist said: “People have to be on death’s door to qualify for maternal exemptions.”

What a dangerous setback for women’s health our country has taken! The Supreme Court’s decision will lead to restrictions or outright abortion bans in many states. In some states, that’s happening already. No government should dictate reproductive health for any individual.

My son’s name was Andrew. I can’t say what choices I might have made if his life-threatening condition had been realized before his heart had stopped. I loved him. I would not have wanted him to suffer. I would have needed that choice. Thirty-five years ago, thanks to Roe v. Wade, I would have had one. I want my daughters and granddaughter to have that, too.

— Special to the Press Herald