Yesterday I opened Instagram and saw a post from Minnesota Public Radio (MPR) showing that the “crisis pregnancy center” (CPC) to actual abortion providers ratio in Minnesota is 11:1. Feeling agitated, I shared the post along with a bit of my experience with such a center on my story. Wow, have I gotten a lot of DM’s expressing shock since.
What is a CPC?
For those who don’t know, “CPC is a term used to refer to certain facilities that represent themselves as legitimate reproductive health care clinics providing care for pregnant people but actually aim to dissuade people from accessing certain types of reproductive health care, including abortion care and even contraceptive options. Staff members at these unregulated and often nonmedical facilities have no legal obligation to provide pregnant people with accurate information and are not subject to HIPAA or required by law to maintain client confidentiality.” (Learn more at acog.org.)
Walz to end support for CPCs
The reason MPR shared the statistic is because Governor Walz is expected to end an 18-year-old program that supports CPCs and has given them over $3 million every grant cycle. Why is that appalling? When I went to get my abortion, I was told there was no funding available and that even though I was able (and choosing) to have a medical abortion, I would have to pay about $600 out of pocket for the process. Want to know what I didn’t pay for? Inaccurate, manipulative, and problematic “care” at a CPC.
The first chance to share my experiences
I was in the thick of Christian community when I had my abortion. My friends ranged from charismatics, to fundamentalists, to baptists … so all were pretty conservative when it came to political ideology. This meant that I was incredibly careful about who I told I had an abortion to. I am so beyond fortunate for how those few friends responded (another post for later) and one later texted that she knew a mutual friend who had also had an abortion and was willing to meet with me. I was nervous but so excited and agreed to grab coffee with her.
Good intentions – misleading outcomes
When we met at the coffee shop she asked me if I was willing to share my story and I panicked. I could regurgitate my testimony for Christ instantaneously, but how do you frame an abortion story? What was the climax, what was my ending? I had never been allowed to think about it before. She was gracious as she listened to whatever came out of my mouth (I genuinely forget) and in return shared a bit of hers. She spoke confidently despite our religious background and encouraged me to go to a support group that she had been a part of. She promised it was a safe space for any and all feelings related to abortion and promised it would help me heal. I had nowhere else to talk about what happened so I reached out directly to the program director as she suggested. I was excited to finally process what I was feeling about my abortion experience. My heart sank when I pulled up to the building. I could tell from the outside it was a CPC, but had already committed to going and walked in the door.
Pretending to be medical care
The first thing they asked me to do was fill out a poor attempt at a replicated medical history form (something they had no right to ask given they weren’t doctors and had no medical backing). The questions (full of typos) asked about mental health, medication, and even asked me to detail out if I had an eating disorder, a history of self harm, or suicidal ideation … information they had no right to know and no way to promise confidentiality for. I was then partnered with a mentor because I was moving soon and wouldn’t have time to join a support group.
At first, not a bad experience …
The first meeting was honestly relieving. I was able to talk openly about what I had been through and where I was at with my processing. At the time, I was glad to find out that my mentor was Christian because I wanted my faith to be a part of my journey. I had finally found a space where not only could I share, but hear from others too. She shared her abortion story and each time we met we watched two more pre-recorded stories from others who had abortions. To know that I wasn’t alone, and to know how many others had abortions lifted a huge weight off of my shoulders.
But that changed quickly
Later meetings quickly changed my perspective on the organization.
They told me my mental health struggles were because of my abortion (diagnosis predated the abortion)
They admitted to sending “street preachers” (aka the people who stand outside of abortion clinics and yell at us as we drive in – I watched one guy try and block the car I was in from entering the parking lot)
Admitted to “mentoring girls ‘at risk’ of an abortion” – which meant talking them out of it and sometimes using an ultrasound to shame them out of even considering it
When I told them I didn’t feel guilty for my abortion, they told me I had to, and that if I truly didn’t in that moment, I would soon (it’s been years … still waiting)
They made me pray for God to reveal a gender and a name for “my baby”
They made me have a memorial service – full with a pastor, worship, time for me to say a few words (I did not), and the presentation of the life certificate for “my baby”
They used each abortion story as a poor and twisted evangelizing tactic to bring people to God, but as someone raised in the evangelical church (and not foreign to the concept) I saw right through their guilt trips*
Things got tense
Through the entire process I had a tense relationship with my mentor because of my faith. Yes, we were both Christian, but she had a very different relationship with God than I did. Each meeting my “homework” would include cherry-picked Bible verses and I’d show up with notes about the full context of the passage and how it had very little to do with the meaning she was taking from it. My favorite was when she asked me to reflect on Ecclesiastes 3:1,4-8 to remind myself that it was important to offer myself time to mourn and grieve. I showed up and read Ecclesiastes 3:1-3 to her (the part she clearly wanted me to ignore) and reminded her that I did not think my abortion had been wrong given my circumstances and that God understood and had been with me in my decision.
“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build …”
Ecclesiastes 3:1-3 NIV
As before, I’m not here to defend my abortion nor how your view on religion relates to it. I’m simply showing the problematic experiences I had with this CPC and my anger that all of this (including the private memorial service at a religious building and with a pastor) was in part funded by taxpayer dollars, yet my abortion was not.
“I’m simply showing the problematic experiences I had with this CPC and my anger that all of this (including the private memorial service at a religious building and with a pastor) was in part funded by taxpayer dollars, yet my abortion was not.”
Honoring the (almost) 50 years of Roe
I’m thankful to have since found truly unbiased spaces and people to share more of my abortion story with to keep processing and healing. I’m also thankful that even though Roe v. Wade did not make it to its 50th birthday (Sunday) there are still steps being taken to increase access to abortion and decrease the inaccurate attempts to block it.
To honor 50 years since Roe v. Wade was initially passed take some time to read more post-abortive stories, remind yourself about what policies surround abortion (and its funding) in your state, and look into who (government, churches, foundations, individual donors) is funding the CPCs closest to you. And remember, those who have had abortions are all around you, so choose your language and conversation topics carefully <3
*Evangelizing is not always rooted in guilt, nor always bad, but each and every story this CPC shared was
