It wasn’t until I found myself in crisis and searching for answers that I understood the power of how sharing a deeply personal experience can help others, and eventually even change laws.

On Jan. 25, 2019, I was 32 weeks into my pregnancy when my husband and I learned that our baby, Cameron, was suffering and would not survive outside of my body. I was reeling from shock and grief, but I still remember my doctors asking if we had any questions. I remember saying that no, we understood how bad the situation was, and we understood that I needed an abortion.

As we were driving home, my husband told me about an article he’d found by Googling “32-week abortion” in the doctor’s office. It was an interview with an anonymous woman, “Elizabeth,” about her own experience of needing and obtaining an abortion at 32 weeks. I was already crying, but I cried even more as I read her story, different from mine and yet so similar. Her story provided answers to questions I hadn’t known to ask my doctors. I was still overwhelmed with grief, but I felt less alone.

We’d just returned from a visit with my best friend, during which I’d expressed how much I was looking forward to this ultrasound. Shortly after our appointment, she texted, joyfully asking for pictures. I told her that things had not gone well. I told my friend how much reading “Elizabeth’s” story had helped me. She wanted to help us too, but didn’t know what to do. She asked, “Do you want me to find “Elizabeth” for you? Would it help at all to talk to her?” I laughed at the seeming impossibility of finding her, but agreed to let my friend try.

I told her that I would understand if “Elizabeth” didn’t want to reveal her identity or talk to me, but that I’d love to send her a thank you letter for telling her story so publicly.

It was a Friday when we learned the devastating news about Cameron. I was texting with “Elizabeth” by Monday. Her real name is Erika Christensen, and since telling her story anonymously, she decided to “out” herself, and now advocates for reproductive rights; specifically, for access to abortion later in pregnancy.

Like Erika, my abortion required flying out of state to access care. When I arrived home, another friend reached out to say that she had also had an abortion later in pregnancy, but had never really told anyone. Because of my experience, she was planning to testify before the Maine Legislature in support of two bills that would expand access and address affordability of abortion care in Maine.

I decided to join her. It was just over two months after my experience of having to leave my home state, my own medical team and my social support system to travel to Colorado and spend tens of thousands of dollars to get the medical care I needed to end my son’s suffering.

Both bills passed.

I’ve told my story a lot since then, and there are two big reasons why I’ve told it so often and so publicly. First, I wanted to be there for anyone else going through this. I want to be someone’s “Elizabeth.” Second, I wanted to change the laws that punished me for seeking abortion care in my third trimester of pregnancy.

Today, several bills protecting and expanding access to abortion care in Maine will become law, including L.D. 1619, which places trust in medical providers and their patients to make private medical decisions without political interference. This means Mainers can get the abortion care they need, right here at home.

I am incredibly thankful and proud that sharing my story with our lawmakers has helped change the laws in Maine, and I hope my fellow Mainers are inspired to make their own voices heard.

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