The Mercury News

Women grapple with state abortion ruling

- By Jack Healy

Leah found out she was five weeks pregnant on the same day that the Arizona Supreme Court upheld an 1864 law banning nearly all abortions in the state.

The law is not expected to take effect until June, but Leah, 29, worried that the state's abortion clinics might be overwhelme­d by an influx of patients or shut down abruptly. And she could not afford to take time off from her job installing bathroom showers to travel to another state for the procedure.

So Saturday morning, she threaded past a handful of protesters waving signs that read “You Shall Not Murder” and checked in at the Acacia Women's Center in Phoenix.

“I might have taken a couple more weeks” to consider her options, she said. “But I kind of felt like my hands were tied.”

The court's ruling last week reinstated a Civil War-era law that outlaws abortion from the moment of conception, which could have far-reaching consequenc­es for women and has the potential to reshape the 2024 election. Inside the lobby of Acacia, the ruling felt deeply personal to Leah and other women, a decision that made them reluctant players in a series of national battles over contracept­ion, in vitro fertilizat­ion and women's health.

The ruling set off outrage and political maneuverin­g. The state's Democratic lawmakers scrambled, but failed, to repeal the law, and lawyers on both sides are preparing for more battles over whether to implement it.

As the patients at Acacia scrolled through their phones and texted friends while waiting for their names to be called this weekend, they said judges and politician­s who supported banning abortion did not understand their lives or why they had decided to get abortions.

In the decision, the justices said that because the federal right to abortion in Roe v. Wade had been overturned, nothing prevented Arizona from enforcing the 1864 law. They also said their job was to interpret two potentiall­y conflictin­g state laws, not to make a policy judgment about abortion.

Abortion-rights groups argued that the 1864 ban — which prohibits all abortions, including in cases of rape or incest, but makes an exception for ones that would save the mother's life — had essentiall­y been superseded by a 2022 law prohibitin­g abortions after 15 weeks. But Arizona never took the earlier law off the books, and the 15-week ban stressed that it was not repealing the 1864 law or creating any state right to abortion.

Women at the clinic said it was already challengin­g to get an abortion in Arizona. Patients have to consult with their doctors and have a sonogram at least 24 hours in advance, as well as listen to a state-mandated script describing the risks of abortion and developmen­t of their fetus. Some of Arizona's seven abortion clinics were booked through the end of April, they said, and they worried that their window was closing fast.

Patients at Acacia raced to find out: Would their appointmen­ts be canceled? Where would they go if Arizona's clinics shut down? Would they have to continue their pregnancie­s?

“It freaked me out,” said Joanne, 29, who called the clinic the instant she heard about the ruling. “It's terrifying. It's baffling that it would even be a reality.”

Most of the 10 women interviewe­d for this article asked to be identified only by their first names to protect their privacy or to avoid losing their jobs.

Some came alone and said they could not tell their parents they were pregnant. Others sat with their mothers or boyfriends. They counted out cash for the procedures — $1,000 for a surgical abortion and $750 for abortion pills — and made plans with family about how to get home and what they would order for dinner afterward.

Many said they could not understand why the Arizona Supreme Court, whose justices are all Republican appointees, would force them to live under a law written before women could vote or open bank accounts.

Some said they supported Arizona's existing 15-week restrictio­n on abortions but said the 1864 ban was too much.Like 60% of women nationwide who receive abortions, Jordan, 29, already had a child. But she said she suffered such severe postpartum depression after having her son that she almost killed herself. She worried she might not survive a second pregnancy.

Esmerelda, 25, also already had a child, a 7-month-old daughter, but said it would be impossible for her to afford another one. She spends $1,000 a month for a babysitter and said another baby would force her to quit her job and hurt her family's finances.

As she sat in the lobby, Esmerelda said she wanted the doctor to give her abortion pills while they were still legal. She said she was worried about what would happen to women who need abortions once the 1864 law is implemente­d.

Like many abortion clinics, Acacia has long been a battlegrou­nd. Protesters with bullhorns yell at women to turn around and wave signs condemning its owner, Dr. Ronald Yunis, an obstetrici­an-gynecologi­st, as a baby killer.

“We know he doesn't like us here,” said Chad McDonald, 43, a constructi­on worker who was part of the protest at the clinic Saturday. “These babies are human beings, just like a 4-year-old is a human being.”

McDonald said he had been disappoint­ed that some antiaborti­on Republican­s in Arizona had recently changed course and called to scrap the 1864 law, including Kari Lake, who is running for U.S. Senate.

Other conservati­ves, including the state's Freedom Caucus, have defended the ruling. Jake Warner, a lawyer with conservati­ve Christian group Alliance Defending Freedom, said it would allow Arizona to “fully protect life.”

Yunis turns on the sprinklers and blares Nine Inch Nails outside the clinic to drown out the demonstrat­ors' shouts. Protesters said he had poured ammonia at their feet. In 2019, he was arrested on a charge of pointing a gun at protesters as he drove away from the clinic. Yunis pleaded guilty to a charge of disorderly conduct and was dropped by Medicare, but he said he had been defending himself against increasing­ly aggressive protesters.

“The guy was coming at my car,” he said. “How many abortion providers have been murdered in the last 20 years? There's a legitimate fear that someone running at your car after blocking your driveway might be meaning you harm.”

Yunis and his small staff said the two years since Roe was overturned have been full of chaos and uncertaint­y. Now, some are bracing to be laid off if they can no longer perform abortions in the state.

Irma Jo Fernandez-Leos signs in women at the front desk. These days, she also asks them whether they want to sign a petition to support a ballot measure that would protect abortion as a constituti­onal right in Arizona. She said a vast majority of patients tell her they are not registered to vote.

“It frustrates me,” she said. “It's like, do you know how many of us it takes to make a difference?”

 ?? CAITLIN O'HARA — THE NEW YORK TIMES ?? Dr. Ronald Yunis leads an informatio­nal session for patients attending their first appointmen­t for abortion care at Acacia Women's Center in Phoenix last week.
CAITLIN O'HARA — THE NEW YORK TIMES Dr. Ronald Yunis leads an informatio­nal session for patients attending their first appointmen­t for abortion care at Acacia Women's Center in Phoenix last week.

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