BETTINA LEWIN/TRUNK ARCHIVE/SNAPPER IMAGES
der any other circumstances, Melanie would be
xcited, but right now all she feels is nerves. She is
n a plane to Melbourne, a trip she has always
anted to make but had never been able to afford.
he clutches a small teddy bear one of her friends
as given her as a good-luck charm. Her mother
other and daughter each as nervous as the other.
Melanie and her mum are on a flight from Townsville because
the 18-year-old requires a medical service she can only get in
Melbourne. A week ago, Melanie received some shocking news:
she was 22 weeks pregnant. She had been feeling unwell but
thought it was because she was under a lot of stress with her final
year of school. She had been on the pill, so she thought she was
protected, but a blood test and ultrasound proved otherwise.
Melanie is on her way to Melbourne to get an abortion at the only
clinic that will provide the service up to 24 weeks.
Athieng made the same nerve-racking journey. The mother of
three came to Australia from Sudan with her family three years ago
and it was only after leaving her violent husband that Athieng
found out she was pregnant. A single mother of three, with no
support and very little money, Athieng decided not to continue
the pregnancy. When she went to her doctor in her small town, he
told her abortion was illegal in Australia. Athieng
felt trapped. After several weeks she found out
from a women’s health service that she actually
couldterminate. By this time, Athieng was nearly
23 weeks pregnant and, like Melanie, could only
get the procedure done in Melbourne.
While Melanie and Athieng come from very
different circumstances, they are bonded by
the same experience: trying to terminate a preg-
nancy in Australia, one of the most confusing
countries in which to access abortion care.
While abortion is legal in Australia to protect
the life and health of a woman, each state and
territory has its own laws and regulations
surrounding gestational time limits and other
considerations such as parental consent and
doctor approval. In the Northern Territory, abor-
tion is legal up to 14 weeks, yet in Queensland, it
can be performed up to 22 weeks. Abortion has been in the New
South Wales criminal code since 1900, while in South Australia, a
woman can face life in prison for accessing an abortion unless two
doctors agree, it is performed in a prescribed hospital before 28
weeks and the woman has been a resident of SA for two months.
Added to the confusing mix of laws and regulations is the problem
of funding. Abortion care isn’t widely available as a public health
service in Australia, and there’s very little support for the service
through Medicare. Typically, a woman will pay upwards of $400
through a private or not-for-profit clinic, which, of course, some
women struggle to afford. This is the reason Marie Stopes Australia’s
Choice Fund exists. Set up in 2016, the fund provides free or
low-cost abortions, mostly to women in their second trimester, and
often to women in remote areas. It is designed to help those who are
in the most difficult of circumstances, such as Melanie and Athieng.
These still aren’t the only problems we have when it comes to
access to abortion care in Australia. There is another force at play,
hidden and insidious but no less damaging than the financial and
legal issues: stigma. Many women who access an abortion will inti-
mately know how this feels. Stigma comes in many forms: a stern
lecture from a doctor; the hateful glare of an anti-choice picketer;
the indignant rejection from a hospital; the very public scorn of a
highly conservative politician labelling abortion as an “abhorrentform of birth control”. And, of course, the fact that in some states,
the woman is considered a criminal for accessing the service.
Stigma and judgement can have a profound impact on the way
some women recover from an abortion. In January last year, the
University of Limerick published a study that found women who
feel stigmatised after having an abortion were more likely to
struggle with their psychological and physical health. The study
focused on women in Ireland, where abortion was illegal until
May 2018. The stigma women experience can lead to internalised
shame and deliberate isolation from others, the study discovered.
This can then lead to poorer mental and physical wellbeing. The
findings are in line with previous studies showing women are more
likely to suffer psychological distress when they’ve experienced
delays or barriers while trying to access an abortion.
It’s estimated between one-quarter and one-third of Australian
women will have an abortion. And while we often focus on the
statistics, it’s important to remember these women are our mothers,
sisters, daughters, friends and colleagues. They are human beings.
They deserve compassion, empathy and care.
Some women need more support than others when they choose
to have an abortion. They may need counselling, increased privacy
and confidentiality — or just more information to make the deci-
sion that’s right for them. They shouldn’t have to
worry about whether they can afford it, whether
they will be photographed or yelled at as they
access a clinic, and they shouldn’t be lectured to
or made to feel like criminals.
This is 2019 in a country where most of the
community is compassionate and empathetic
enough to know the decision to have an abortion
is a private medical matter. Given so many
Australian women will access this health service,
it’s time our health system properly supported
them by ensuring they can undertake a termina-
tion without delay and undue financial burden.
Everyone who works at Marie Stopes Australia is
passionate about lobbying for reform. I’m
particularly passionate about it because, after
more than 20 years providing abortion care to
Australian women, I firmly believe it’s high time
we stopped placing barriers in the way of women wanting to
control their own reproductive health.
Of the women we’ve helped, many were also experiencing
family violence and mental health issues and reproductive coer-
cion. Some even faced sexual assault, homelessness, alcohol and
other drug issues, and chronic illness.
What the Choice Fund has taught us is that women are strug-
gling to access timely and affordable abortions. They may delay
because they don’t have enough money, which in turn limits their
options and increases stress. If you don’t have money or support,
and you are experiencing multiple compounding issues, then
sometimes delaying an abortion is the only option.
It’s time we reformed the way we provide abortion care in
Australia. We need a national strategy that’s funded so that a
woman can access abortion care where she lives.
Until we have proper funding for abortion care and a nationally
consistent approach to it, Marie Stopes Australia will continue to
raise money for the Choice Fund. Women like Athieng and Melanie
should get the support they need, when and where they need it.
Choice Words: A Collection of Writing About Abortion edited by
Louise Swinn (Allen & Unwin), $30, is out March 19. Proceeds from
sales of the book go to the Marie Stopes Australia Choice Fund. Visit
mariestopes.org.au to find out more.Between one
quarter and
one-third of
Australian women
will have an
abortion ... They
are human beings.
They deserve
compassion,
empathy and care.151 HARPERSBAZAAR.COM.AU April 2019
HEALTH