My name is Hajime White and this is my story. As a teenager, I learned what it meant to have no control over my body when my first child, a baby boy, was stillborn. At that age and at that time, going to the doctor and finding out you were pregnant was scary enough. No amount of educational books, pamphlets, or doctor’s office literature could have prepared me for the trauma that would stay with me for the rest of my life.

I worked as a doula in my own company for years. state of arkansaswhere I provide support and care to mothers and their babies – people who don’t always get the care and attention they need from us state’s healthcare system. My experience at age 15 taught me that the fight for abortion rights, access to information, support, and reproductive care is not just for those seeking abortions. The more our access to vital medical care is restricted, the more people will suffer as I did all those years ago.

Most states have their own abortion policies and laws; Here is the Bible Belt state of Arkansas, where abortion has historically been somewhat restricted. almost complete ban on abortion It has been in effect since 2022, following the Supreme Court’s Dobbs decision. In my own work in the southeastern region of the state, I strive every day to give women and their babies the support I did not have when I was younger. But every day I encounter government restrictions on care and resources. As our elections approach, I fear we are hurtling towards a state that treats patients and young mothers the same way I was treated years ago, with cold blood, a lack of vital communication and information, and no support whatsoever..

Growing up in the black community, abortion wasn’t a word that came out of your mouth. You we were going to have this baby.

But in my case as a young teenager, it was different. My then-boyfriend and now husband of 32 years and I were scared but wanted our baby.

When my prenatal visits turned into getting pap tests every two weeks, I didn’t know at the time that prenatal visits were supposed to go that way.

Imagine going to the doctor for your prenatal visit in the 21st week of your pregnancy. You hear your baby’s heartbeat stop because of the Doppler and you never hear it again. It was said that the baby was not alive. That’s when the trauma begins.

But you are not admitted to the hospital. You’re sent home without any real explanation. Then you don’t think about asking for more information. After years of working to help mothers through pregnancy and birth, I now know that what I experienced was what we call a “slippery abortion,” or a concealed abortion in which the pregnancy is not possible but allowed to continue.

But then you feel the baby moving around your body. You feel a thrill of hope. With your step-grandmother’s encouragement, you seek a second opinion. You go that night with your family and your then-boyfriend, now-husband, and you’re told, “Yes, the baby is gone and he’s a man and he doesn’t have a brain.” It breaks your heart: Your baby died inside your body. You think you’re going to die too because there’s a corpse inside you.

Now you are sent home again, not to the hospital. Again, still no explanation, no control over your body.

You’re still holding on to hope because you feel the baby moving inside you. You later learn that the baby is trying to expel itself from your body. You now go to the hospital to be admitted for induction. You come to check in, you’re wearing your teddy bear dress, and you have your own teddy bear in your hospital bag; You’ve packed it away as your security blanket. When you arrive at your room in the delivery room, your family enters one by one.

Years later, you find out your family has been told you can’t make it and say your final goodbyes. And you’re in the room, you don’t know what’s being said to your family. Now your mother has been sent to the room to tell you to sign this form, it’s best. You try to read what is best. Later, you learn that your baby was taken to be donated to science.

My life was in the hands of the doctor I trusted to care for me and my unborn child. Only to leave scars – emotional, physical, mental, anger, sadness and a whole host of reasons.

This is a mother who has nothing from her son today. Just memories of tragedy. No babies, no graves. It was up to me to do my own therapy. Telling my story at every opportunity to maintain my sanity.

My husband and I have raised six daughters since our first pregnancy, and each one has brought us joy. But I still carry the trauma.

What my wife and I experienced at the time in doctor’s offices and waiting rooms was a warning. I had no control over my body. I was given very little information.

Now I’m afraid that everything will return to the way it was then. I fear for others who experience the same lack of control over their bodies in many different situations.

Laws that seek to control people’s bodies can harm us all; not just to people seeking medical care for abortions. My name is Hajime White and this is my story. I hope this won’t be your story too.

This article was first published on: MSNBC.com