In Australia abortion is legal in all states and territories except Western Australia, but issues with access remain. Since the US supreme court decision to overturn Roe v Wade, the court case which interpreted the right to seek an abortion as protected by the country’s constitution, Guardian Australia asked readers about their experience accessing abortion in Australia.
Readers shared their personal experiences of seeking to end pregnancies over decades past. Their stories are complex, filled with obstacles, elements of grief, and gratitude.
‘It has taken a long time to feel I have the right to grieve’
Amelia, 42, Melbourne
I accessed a termination last year after having my baby confirmed as having trisomy 21. This was first picked up on the 10-week NIPT (non-invasive prenatal testing) and then confirmed by CVS (Chorionic villus sampling). We are older parents and already have one child. I was able to access the termination service easily and without feeling any judgment from staff. We made the decision to go ahead with the termination for a number of reasons including the impact on our family of a potentially profoundly disabled child, the impact on our existing child including when we could no longer care for a disabled child, financial impacts and the personal life effects of being a carer essentially for the rest of my life. We also had little family support to assist us with additional stress and load on our family. This was a planned pregnancy.
I had my termination at around 13-ish weeks through a public hospital in Melbourne. From the moment of contact with provider where we had the CVS right through to the hospital procedure, staff were nothing but compassionate and supportive.
This was a profound and difficult decision and one that was intensely personal. I felt so very grateful to be able to access not only the diagnostic tests so early in the pregnancy, but to have the choice of how we wished to proceed open and accessible to us.
It would have felt absolutely intrusive for the state to have intervened and dictated what our path must be. We are the ones who made the child and would need to provide the care for the rest of their life, and very possibly the rest of ours. But this decision has had deep and lasting effects on me and is not something I think anyone ever does lightly. I will be processing the implications of this decision for the rest of my life, I think. I do not regret the choice we made but I am changed by it. It has taken a long time to feel I have the right to grieve this termination as the loss of a child because it was my choice.
I cannot fathom how the grief would be complicated and made so much more traumatic if access to care and the care itself was filled with judgment and prejudice or if the pregnancy was the result of rape. I’m so grateful to live in a country where this is possible.
‘I was living on a government pension at the time and felt terribly judged’
Georgina, 44, now living in Germany
In 2013, while living as a single mother of a three-year-old in Melbourne, I was in a sexual relationship with an unmarried, childless man. When I fell pregnant, we had a talk about it and, after the conversation, I decided that I’d have an abortion. I saw my GP and found this to be an embarrassing experience. I was living on a government pension at the time and felt terribly judged – something I didn’t need, since I was judging myself already quite harshly for my “mistake”. She did, however, provide me with the necessary information and paperwork and I called a clinic to schedule an appointment.
I travelled there by public transport by myself and it took a long time, since the clinic was way out of the city. The clinic staff were friendly and the procedure went smoothly. I had to pay roughly $300.
Back at my GP for a follow-up appointment I was pressured to have a Mirena contraceptive inserted.
Apart from travel time, I had no trouble accessing the abortion, and while the cost was quite significant when living on Centrelink payments, I was prepared to pay.
It is never an easy decision for a woman, and she should have every support possible available to her.
‘My illegal experience was much less stressful than the legal one’
Fiona, 62, NSW
In 1978 I got pregnant from the first time I ever had sex at the age of 18. I went to the Women’s hospital near Melbourne University and had a test. They asked me what my plans were and when I said I didn’t want a baby at that time, they sent me to a social worker/psychologist, and she asked if having a baby would adversely affect my mental health. Since I was really angry with my boyfriend, vomiting constantly, knew I wasn’t ready to be a parent, and afraid for my future, I said yes. At that time abortion was illegal except in cases of medical need.
I went in for day surgery in a ward where all the other women getting abortions were much older and already had children. One said she already had six kids and “this was the first rest” she’d had in years. It really made me aware how my stereotype of who needed an abortion at that time was far from the truth.
I had no trouble with access, no protesters or pushback against what I wanted. My health insurance covered the procedure. I was terrified my parents would find out through the insurance records, but they didn’t. I was really lucky to have such a safe experience, especially considering how naive I was.
I later had to have another termination in Queensland, in 1999, for a pregnancy where the foetus had a major genetic problem. In the meantime I’d had two much-loved children. That abortion was much more distressing because I would have liked another child. It was also confronting because the clinic was in a secret unmarked location and there were threats of violence against the staff.
Basically, my illegal experience was much less stressful than the later legal one, because of the way protests had escalated.
I was also sadder the second time because I had wanted that third baby.
I don’t regret either of those terminations. If I had not had the first one, I would never have married that boyfriend and I would have been an ill-prepared and ineffective parent. Parenting is a serious business, and unwanted children should not be forced into the world.
‘The doctor I went to simply said: I cannot help you’
Janine, 41, Perth
When I was 34 I became pregnant about six months after leaving my abusive husband. I had two young children and I had multiple autoimmune diseases, which made pregnancy extremely difficult. I hadn’t had unprotected sex either. My new partner was on dialysis and waiting a kidney transplant and also living with bipolar disorder. I had moved to regional WA on a one-year contract to escape my ex-husband and provide for my two young boys.
I went to see a GP that bulk-billed as I was under severe financial pressure. The doctor I went to simply said “I cannot help you”. I tried to explain that the baby’s father was dying, and that a pregnancy would probably kill me. He just repeated that he could not help me. My sister found an abortion clinic online that I got an appointment to go to. I had to travel to the city for it.
I think the first doctor was religious, maybe that was why he wouldn’t help me. But I was less than five weeks pregnant when I realised. If I had been able to access an abortion locally I wouldn’t have had to go to the place in the city which, looking back, seemed dodgy. I should have been able to get help when I needed it. But most of all, I don’t regret my choice for one second, because having a child at that time would have destroyed so many lives.
‘I am still sad about the termination, but I know it was the responsible decision to make’
Lyndy, 38, Brisbane
My first abortion was with my first boyfriend. I knew that I was not ready to be a mother. I think getting my wisdom teeth out was worse.
My second abortion was with the man who is now my husband. It was four months into our relationship and we were not sure whether we would last or whether we could afford to bring a child into the world. Trying to decide what to do was the worst week of my life. I woke up from the anaesthetic crying and I cried for months after.
I look back now and sometimes I am still sad about the second one, but even so, I know it was the responsible decision to make. I have never regretted the first one.
My second abortion with a loving supportive partner in a clean secure medical centre where I knew I was safe was traumatic enough. I cannot imagine having to deal with uncertainty about the safety of the actual procedure on top of everything else.
‘I simply couldn’t take the risk’
Hannah, 40, Melbourne
I had a selective reduction after I naturally conceived triplets. The likelihood of them being stillborn or born with birth defects was 50/50. By aborting two of the three (based on circumstance it had to be two of them) I increased the survivor’s chances to 90%. I currently have a happy, healthy toddler.
I had a private obstetrician who supported the decision and made the appointment with a specialist. It cost me $500 out of pocket.
No one makes these kinds of decisions lightly. Do I regret it? Of course. But I would make the same decision 99 times out of 100. I simply couldn’t take the risk. And in all honesty, we couldn’t afford to have triplets either. It would have ruined us financially.
‘They believed that I could not consent as I was deaf’
Steph, 39, a capital city
When I needed to get an abortion in the late 2000s, I was told I could not consent to the procedure as I am a deaf person who uses Auslan. I had a referral to a major hospital for an abortion at their clinic. When I had the initial consultation with a doctor there they spoke to me in a patronising manner, then told me bluntly that they believed that I could not consent to the abortion, as I was deaf.
I explained that I understood the procedure and the risks. The doctor left the room to have a discussion with another staff member. I could see them outside the door discussing me, for what was, to me, an agonisingly long time. Finally, the doctor came back in and agreed that they could accept my consent.
The consultation with the doctor left me feeling humiliated and belittled. I was a high-achieving young person and it had never occurred to me that my capacity to consent would be questioned. It increased the anxiety I had about the procedure, and made me fearful that I would experience further barriers when I had to come in for the actual procedure. It was a relief on the day of the actual procedure when the surgeon and nurses treated me with respect and kindness.
Photograph: Joos Mind/Getty Images
A number of studies have shown that disabled people face significant barriers in accessing healthcare. Much of this is due to structural barriers, lack of accessible information and services, but this is also due to the stigma and prejudice they face from medical and health professionals.
‘I was raped’
Molly, 50, Gold Coast
I was raped with a knife held to my throat in Darwin in 2006. It resulted in a pregnancy and the rapist was never found. I told myself, if I can’t get an abortion I would need to end my life. The thought of having a monster’s baby almost destroyed me. I was alone in Darwin, no support network or friends, I could not get into a clinic so I moved to the Gold Coast, Queensland, and found a clinic across the border in NSW.
It was terrifying to go through it all alone and not know who to trust. It changed me, made me angry and hateful with police and the health system. I harbour hate for the anti-abortion movement and empathise deeply with others going through it alone.
I had trouble finding health professionals willing to give me a contact or referral for a clinic. I had to find a feminist group to get contact details. I was worried I would not be able to raise enough money for the procedure before it was too late.
If the right to safe and affordable abortions is taken away, it will result in many more deaths. I was almost one of them, because doctors were intentionally unhelpful.
‘The first doctor was booked out for eight weeks’
Melinda, 35, Hobart
I was advised in my 20s I was infertile. I came to terms with this and found a partner who wasn’t interested in having children . Life went on.
I was living in Tasmania in 2018. In 10-year relationship (eight years married), I fell pregnant with a “miracle” baby. I had no idea I was pregnant; after unprotected sex with my partner for 10 years with no issues, it was the last thing on my mind.
We could technically afford to have the child – we both worked full-time, and had been saving for a house deposit that could have been utilised.
Ultimately, neither my husband or I wanted to bring a child into the world – we didn’t believe we could provide the home a child needs. In addition, I have major depression. My psychiatrist was concerned about the potential impacts on my health and wellbeing.
We made the uncomfortable decision to abort. While I was, and remain, pro-choice, it’s also not a decision I ever wanted to make.
The process itself was horrific. I had to call the helpline multiple times and was advised that I was better off staying at home as the public hospital was already overloaded and I wouldn’t be a priority. Surgical abortion was unavailable in Tasmania at the time.
My GP was amazing. She provided me with the available options: two GPs in the south of the state authorised to prescribe Mifepristone, and she also knew of an online service (the Tabbot Foundation). She organised for bloods and scans to get the process started. I was six weeks along when I got the scan.
Both GPs were around one hour from me in either direction. The first doctor was booked out for about eight weeks, which would have made me ineligible for Mifepristone by the time I saw her. When I tried to make an appointment with the second GP, reception were very vague with me on the phone, and I did not feel comfortable. I was incredibly stressed and worried I would pass the nine-week threshold while still trying to access a GP that could help.
I ended up being able to book with the second GP. I was able to be prescribed the pills immediately, and able to take a “long weekend” from work in order to take them. I was able to afford the $250 + $75 for the consult.
While there has been some improvement in abortion access in Tasmania, it is still limited and requires you to jump through hurdles. If I somehow fell pregnant again, I would take our savings and travel somewhere I could receive a surgical abortion with full support.
Unable to confide in many (given I was meant to be infertile, some I did talk to about it considered it a miracle baby I should have kept), it was a lonely, isolating and terrifying process.
‘It’s not a decision anyone ever does flippantly, without reflection, or without grief’
Hayley, 28, Perth
I discovered I was pregnant Christmas Eve 2021. I live in metropolitan Western Australia. I am in my late 20s and happily in a relationship, but I am not ready to have children.
My incredible partner somehow found me a doctor’s appointment that afternoon. The doctor was incredibly compassionate, and provided me mental health support. I was connected with Marie Stopes, a fertility clinic, and my doctor arranged for my procedure to be fully funded. Marie Stopes provided excellent advice and booked me in for a medical abortion.
The only distress I encountered was having to wait five weeks for my appointment, taking me to just past nine weeks. I understand this is due to demand, but it was the hardest five weeks of my life.
Accessing a termination is a supremely triggering experience. The world constantly referring to the foetus as “your baby” is in direct opposition to the “it’s a bunch of cells” narrative we tell ourselves to justify a termination.
The truth is a termination is awful. The idea that it’s a bunch of cells does not do justice to the difficult decision a woman seeking a termination is faced with. It’s not a bunch of cells.
It’s not a decision anyone ever does flippantly, without reflection, or without grief.
It’s a decision that belongs to the woman only.
