Pregnancy, for many, is a journey filled with hope, excitement and anticipation. For me, it has been a rollercoaster of joy, heartbreak and resilience. I’ve been pregnant eight times; each experience reaffirmed that the decision to continue — or end — a pregnancy is deeply personal and should belong to the woman alone, not lawmakers who often misunderstand or ignore the complexities of reproductive health.

When I recently discovered I was pregnant again, my first instinct was to secure abortion medication. This wasn’t because I knew I wanted to end it, but because I was terrified. Terrified of the unknown, of what could go wrong, and of living in a state that denies access to safe, legal health care without exceptions or compassion. I wanted to protect myself, just in case.

I’ve endured heartbreaking losses that left me physically and emotionally scarred. I’ve carried a wanted pregnancy only to be told the baby’s heart would stop at any moment. I’ve woken up sobbing, burdened by guilt and grief, and left hospitals with empty arms, my paperwork stamped with the clinical term “missed abortion.”

In college, a positive pregnancy test arrived during the unraveling of an abusive relationship. I ended all ties to that relationship — a choice I made quietly and resolutely to protect myself from a future bound by someone else’s control. I don’t regret it, but I’ve learned that grief and relief can coexist. I will always defend the right of every woman to weigh her own options in moments like those, without judgment.

Years later, after miscarriages before and after my first child’s birth, I faced another devastating complication. At 12 weeks, I was told my baby had a condition so severe that life outside the womb was impossible. I chose to continue the pregnancy but will never forget the anguish of carrying a baby I knew I’d never hear breathing. When the 18-week ultrasound confirmed her silence, I had to decide between delivery or a dilation and evacuation (D&E) — a procedure politicized by lawmakers. I chose to deliver, but both options are painful and deserving of compassion.

Now, I’m pregnant with twins, a surprise that brings me immense joy. But my journey has been marked by loss, trauma and the constant fear that my right to decide over my own body has been stripped away. This fear is justified. Across the country, women are forced to carry pregnancies even when their lives are at risk. These laws are cruel and dangerous.

This isn’t about advocating for abortions —it’s about ensuring women can make the best decisions for themselves, free from judgment, stigma and government interference. Abortion is personal and often heartbreaking. It’s a decision no one makes lightly, and it belongs solely to a woman in consultation with her doctor. Reproductive health care is not a privilege; it’s a necessity, a right that must be protected, not politicized. It’s about autonomy, dignity and freedom. No one should impose their beliefs on another’s private choices, this is fundamental to our liberty.