Courts should leave contraceptives alone
Any woman who is sitting back, thinking that the fall of Roe v. Wade won't affect her, needs to think again.
Earlier this month, I turned 50, not exactly the prime childbearing age of someone you'd think would be fretting over the Supreme Court's ruling. But anyone reading between the lines — or in the case of Justice Clarence Thomas, the actual, literal lines of his concurring opinion — knows that there's no guarantee this court will stop with abortion.
For weeks, there's been talk that our right to contraception was vulnerable, in part because it hinges on the same privacy right the Supreme Court had recognized in Roe but has now disavowed. When I saw a proposed Louisiana law as initially written would have equated intrauterine devices, known as IUDs, to “homicide,” I got concerned. Now that Thomas has flat out said in his opinion that the court should reconsider rulings that sanctioned access to birth control, among other rights, I'm afraid for my own health.
The reason has nothing to do with fear of getting pregnant. Contraceptives are used to treat many more health issues than people realize. For me, the IUD was a life-saver. And I guess you could say a dream-saver as well.
Two years ago, I didn't even know they were still used. An IUD is a small T-shaped device that fits inside the uterus. Married for 30 years with two adult children, why would I have any reason to have one? Then, I was in the shower one day when I fainted in the tub, passing a lot of blood as I did so.
I later learned that many women experience very heavy bleeding at some point in their lives — some estimates put it at 1 in 4 women.
Thankfully, I was able to call for my husband right before I lost consciousness. What made the situation all the more dramatic is the fact that I'd just received a preliminary job offer from an airline, one of the first steps in securing my second act in life after years of working as a manicurist in my hometown. I wanted to become a flight attendant and travel the world.
The offer was contingent on, among other things, my ability to pass a test at a physical therapy clinic. The test was scheduled for later that day. I had to be able to lift a certain amount of weight and, needless to say, I wasn't feeling particularly strong. I thought about rescheduling but I realized that would be on my own dime.
So, I went to the exam and somehow, I passed. Then it was time for me to attend rigorous flight attendant training and testing, which would take place out of state, over the course of a month, during which time I would be allowed only two days off. My health issue continued. I never fainted again but the passing of blood wouldn't stop. It would happen randomly and at the worst times. And I doubted whether I should continue to pursue my “second act” at a time when my health seemed uncertain.
I had some wonderful male doctors, but a diagnosis seemed to elude them and some questioned my take on the symptoms, with one telling me he thought it was just my period. I am pretty familiar with my period by now. Like, we go way back — to middle school, actually — so I could recognize this was not that.
Then I saw a female doctor who suggested an IUD that releases a hormone. Everything I knew about them I had learned from a high school parenting class. IUDs keep the sperm and egg from coming together, but they can also work by preventing the fertilized egg from taking root in the uterus. I remember my teacher cautioning us that IUDs weren't so much birth control as they were abortive. I guess she was ahead of her time.
I liked the idea of the IUD because, of the options suggested to me, it was the least invasive and had no downtime. It wouldn't require me taking any time off from my new job.
I am happy to say the results after the procedure were lifechanging. No more bleeding at random moments. No more fatigue. No more fearing I'd have another fainting episode. I finally felt the confidence and freedom to embrace my new career, my new life.
Now imagine a man having to work with a health issue like mine and imagine there being a noninvasive cure that would quickly address it. Do you think there would be any hesitation over whether it should be allowed? Once again, only a woman knows what it is like to be a woman. If we don't advocate for ourselves, who will?
Can we expect lawmakers, most of whom have no idea what we go through, to advocate for women's health if we, as women, are unable to stand together and support each other? Lawmakers are continuing to play politics with abortion as they always have. If we sit idly by, believing this only impacts “other” women, we are failing to see this for what it is.
It isn't a matter of politics; it is a matter of women's health, which is far more complex than any culture war or legislative bill give it credit for.
I am so glad I live in a time when I can have a “second act” and have a new adventure in my life. How disheartening it is that with all we have achieved, we are still being sold the same bag of goods from lawmakers, urging us to turn against our fellow women, to judge them for a choice, to assume certain things about their character. To demonize them because they're on the “other” side. The “other” side meaning anyone having an opinion not strictly in line with our own.
Yes, there are people on extreme ends of this issue. But that's not where most women are. We're somewhere in between, somewhere in reality, where it's clear that any sweeping Supreme Court ruling stripping one right may affect other rights, and any law targeting one woman's control over her health care may have unintended consequences that hurt many, many more women — not just those of us living now, but our daughters and granddaughters as well.