I’m From Arizona & Was Forced To Travel Across State Lines For My Abortion

In Arizona, a Civil War-era law went into effect in December 2022 that effectively banned abortion after 15 weeks of pregnancy. The law creates exceptions if there is a risk to the life of the pregnant person, but the language is vague and can often cause confusion — and physicians can be prosecuted if they provide life-saving medical care, including miscarriage care. There are no exceptions for rape or incest. 

Due to Arizona’s strict laws, many are forced to leave their homes and travel hundreds of miles to clinics in California, Nevada, New Mexico, and Colorado to receive essential care. In 2023, 171,300 people traveled to receive abortion care across the country, the New York Times reported, and although there’s limited data on the exact number of people who’ve traveled for care from Arizona specifically, total abortions in New Mexico increased by 256% between 2020 and 2023, according to the Guttmacher Institute.

Arizona citizens will have a chance to change this on Nov. 5.

Voting yes on Proposition 139’s Right to Abortion Initiative would enshrine the right to abortion to the state constitution and would prevent the state from penalizing anyone who assists another person in obtaining an abortion. Measures to expand or protect abortion will be on the ballot in 9 other states: Colorado, Florida, Maryland, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New York, and South Dakota.

Until Election Day on November 5, Refinery29 will be running real, powerful stories about abortion experiences in states where abortion is on the ballot or currently restricted. Here, Kristin tells the story of the abortion she had in Arizona before the trigger laws were put into place.

Name: Kristin
Age: 34
Location: Arizona (received abortion care in New Mexico)
Pronouns: she/her

I was 33 when I had my abortion. I was naive and didn’t think I would ever have to make the choice to have an abortion. This was our second — and very wanted — pregnancy. It had taken us a while to get pregnant with our first child and this second one happened within a few months, so we were very excited. All signs were leading us to believe we were carrying a healthy baby — the prenatal screening came back low-risk and my ultrasounds showed my baby’s heartbeat. It wasn’t until a routine test in the early second trimester came back abnormal. My OBGYN looked at me with tears in her eyes and said, “I’m concerned.” She referred me to a high-risk doctor and I was able to get an appointment a couple days later. We were worried, but we were still somehow optimistic.

A few days later I had an ultrasound that lasted an hour and a half. We were watching our precious baby the whole time, with two doctors and an ultrasound tech. I could tell by the murmuring going on between them that it wasn’t good. After the doctors studied the findings for a while, we were brought to a small office where they doctors told us heart-shattering news. It was very grim. Our baby would need surgery while I was carrying her, and she would also need immediate brain surgery if she made it to term. She would live a short life full of severe disability, pain, surgeries, and constant medical care. The doctor said we had the option to end our pregnancy.

I asked the doctor if I would have that procedure at the hospital, and she quietly responded, “No, you are too far along. We can’t do that procedure for you here in Arizona anymore.” I was 17 weeks and five days at that point. They told me I could go to New Mexico or California, but I needed to hurry because those clinics likely would not help me after 22 to 24 weeks [Editors’ note: California currently bans abortion after “viability,” or when a fetus can survive outside of the womb. New Mexico currently does not have a gestational limit.].

[Having to travel] was an incredible disappointment on top of incredible heartbreak. This was a very wanted baby and pregnancy. We were making this decision to save her from that painful existence. It was not a quick decision, but we both knew in our heart that the right thing to do was to end our pregnancy.

They recommended a clinic in Albuquerque. I was aware of websites like ineedana.com, so in the following days we did some research and ultimately went to the clinic they had suggested. My supportive parents had been babysitting our son while we were at that appointment. After sharing the news with them, I was so lucky that they told us without hesitation they would support any decision we made and they would be there with us every step of the way.

We made an appointment in one week. We rented a minivan, drove to Albuquerque, and booked an Airbnb — my husband and I, our young son, my parents, and our dog. We fell asleep that night in a rental house in the middle of an unfamiliar city. It was the Fourth of July. The next morning my husband drove me to the clinic. We were greeted outside by protestors. They had signs and cameras, they told me they could save my baby. They couldn’t. 

I had to go into the clinic alone, my husband wasn’t allowed to come in with me. The protestors outside had cameras and baby dolls. [Editors' note: Anti-abortion protestors often use baby dolls to intimidate patients outside of clinics.] There was not one single New Mexico plate in the parking lot — it was all Texas and Arizona. There was security outside of the clinic, which was good. I just can’t believe people spend their days standing outside of these clinics that are giving abortion care. They’re also doing pap smears, breast cancer screenings, every bit of women’s healthcare. 

Every person I interacted with inside of the clinic was kind, gentle, and sincere. I would be 18 weeks five days when I ended my pregnancy. The out-of-pocket cost was $1,600. The average cost for an abortion is $600 to $800 in Arizona, where I live. I had an ultrasound and counseling, just to make sure I understood the procedure and what was happening. I took the medication abortion pill to get things started.

They give you some twilight-type drug, so you’re not under anesthesia, and that’s when they dilate you. I was sent home for a couple hours while my body was preparing to deliver this baby. It was nap time, so my husband and I laid with our son and had him nap. It was a beautiful but super painful moment knowing that was the last of it for our family of four.

I went back to the clinic a few hours later and same thing — they do the twilight-like drugs on you so you’re not asleep. She was a baby I really, really wanted, and I felt like I knew and I felt her being removed from my body. That memory will stay with me for the rest of my life. The procedure itself is not a ton of pain. It’s uncomfortable, but they give you pain meds. It’s just an intense procedure, and you’re alone.

Our daughter, we named her Mica Joy. We haven’t told my son the details of how we lost this baby, but she will be in his life and he will know that he has an angel. She’s very much a part of our family and we talk about her often. We also opted to have her cremated. Another horrific part of having to travel for an abortion is they had to mail the cremated remains to me, and then I had to go pick her up at the post office. The box said “human remains” on it.

On the drive there, my husband said to me, “What are we going to tell our family and friends? Are we going to say we lost the baby, or are we going to tell them that we had an abortion?” And honestly, I had no idea. I was so overwhelmed thinking about the judgment that comes with the word abortion. But on the drive back I said to him, “We are telling every single person we know that we had an abortion, and they are going to have to respect that if they want to stay in our lives.”

I have always been pro-choice, but I did not understand the full scope of abortion care. I did not know how interconnected abortion care was with fertility care and the act of trying to have a baby. It really was not until I had to navigate this process myself that I really understood abortion is healthcare. We shouldn’t be having to share these deeply personal and, at times, excruciating stories, but the sad truth is we have to share these stories. And we won't stop sharing these stories until a woman has full bodily autonomy. I don’t want the next generation to still be having to do this.