Leah found out she was five weeks pregnant the same day the Arizona Supreme Court upheld an 1864 law that banned nearly all abortions in the state.
The law isn’t expected to take effect until June, but Leah, 29, worried the state’s abortion clinics could be overwhelmed by an influx of patients or shut down abruptly. And she couldn’t afford to take time off from her job installing bathroom showers to travel to another state for the procedure.
So on Saturday morning, she walked past a handful of protesters waving signs that read “Thou shalt not murder” and checked into the Acacia Women’s Center in Phoenix.
“I might have needed a couple more weeks” to consider her options, she said. “But I felt like my hands were tied.”
The court’s ruling last week reinstated a Civil War-era law banning abortion from the moment of conception, which could have far-reaching consequences for women and has the potential to reshape the 2024 election. Inside the lobby of Acacia, the decision was deeply personal for Leah and other women, one that made them unwilling players in a series of national battles over contraception, IVF and women’s health.
The decision sparked outrage and political maneuvering. Democratic state lawmakers tried, but failed, to repeal the law, and lawyers on both sides are bracing for more battles over whether to enforce it.
As patients at Acacia scrolled through their phones and texted friends while waiting for their names to be announced this weekend, they said judges and politicians who supported abortion bans didn’t understand their lives or why they decided to have abortions. .
In the ruling, the justices said that because the federal right to abortion in Roe v. Wade was now overturned, nothing stopped Arizona from enforcing the 1864 law. They also said their job was to interpret two potentially conflicting state laws, not make a political judgment on abortion.
Abortion rights groups argued that the 1864 ban – which bans all abortions, including in cases of rape or incest, but makes an exception for those that would save the mother’s life – had effectively been superseded by a 2022 law banning abortions after 15 weeks. But Arizona never struck down the earlier law, and the 15-week ban emphasized that it did not repeal the 1864 law or create any state right to abortion.
Women at the clinic said it was already difficult to get an abortion in Arizona. Patients must consult with their doctors and undergo an ultrasound at least 24 hours in advance, as well as listen to a state-mandated script describing the risks of abortion and the development of their fetus. Some of Arizona’s seven abortion clinics were already booked through the end of April, they said, and they were concerned that their window was closing quickly.
Patients at Acacia raced to find out: Would their appointments be cancelled? Where would they go if Arizona clinics close? Should they continue their pregnancy?
“It scared me,” said Joanne, 29, who called the clinic the moment she heard about the decision. “It’s scary. It’s confusing that it would even be a reality.”
Most of the 10 women interviewed for this article asked to be identified only by their first names to protect their privacy or to avoid losing their jobs.
Some came alone and said they couldn’t tell their parents they were pregnant. Others sat with their mothers or friends. They counted cash for the procedures — $1,000 for a surgical abortion and $750 for abortion pills — and made plans with the family about how to get home and what to order for dinner afterward.
Many said they could not understand why the Arizona Supreme Court, whose justices are all Republican appointees, would force them to live by a law that was written before women could vote or open bank accounts.
Some said they supported Arizona’s existing 15-week abortion limit, but said the 1864 ban was excessive.
Like 60 percent of women nationwide who have abortions, Jordan, 29, already had one child. But she said she suffered such severe postpartum depression after having her son that she nearly killed herself. She was worried that she might not survive a second pregnancy.
Esmerelda, 25, also already had one child, a 7-month-old daughter, but said it would be impossible to afford another. She spends $1,000 a month on a babysitter and said another baby would force her to quit her job and hurt her family’s finances.
As she sat in the lobby, Esmerelda said she wanted the doctor to give her abortion pills while they were still legal. She said she was worried about what would happen to women who needed abortions once the 1864 law was implemented.
Like many abortion clinics, Acacia has long been a battleground. Bull-headed protesters yell at the women to turn around and wave signs condemning its owner, obstetrician-gynecologist Dr. Ronald Younis, as a baby killer.
“We know he doesn’t like us here,” said Chad McDonald, 43, a construction worker who participated in Saturday’s protest at the clinic. “These babies are human beings, just like a 4-year-old is human.”
Mr. McDonald said he was disappointed that some anti-abortion Republicans in Arizona have recently changed course and called for the 1864 law to be repealed, including Kari Lake, who is running for the US Senate.
Other conservatives, including the state’s Freedom Party, defended the decision. Jake Warner, an attorney for the conservative Christian group Alliance Defending Freedom, said he would allow Arizona to “fully protect life.”
Dr. Eunice turns on the sprinklers and blasts Nine Inch Nails outside the clinic to drown out the screams of the protesters. Protesters said he had poured ammonia on their feet. In 2019, he was arrested on charges of pointing a gun at protesters as he left the clinic. Dr. Yunis pleaded guilty to the disorderly conduct charge and was withdrawn from Medicare, but said he was defending himself against the increasingly aggressive protesters.
“The guy was coming to my car,” she said. “How many abortion providers have been murdered in the last 20 years? There’s a reasonable fear that someone running into your car after blocking your way could mean you’re going to get hurt.”
Dr. Yunis and his small staff said the two years since Roe was overturned have been full of chaos and uncertainty. Now, some are preparing to be fired if they can no longer get abortions in the state.
Irma Jo Fernandez-Leos signs women at the front desk. These days, he’s also asking them if they want to sign a petition to support a ballot measure that would protect abortion as a constitutional right in Arizona. She said the vast majority of patients tell her they are not registered to vote.
“It frustrates me,” he said. “It’s like, do you know how many of us it takes to make a difference?”
Some patients fly in from Texas, Florida and other states with strict abortion bans and can’t vote in Arizona. Others are undocumented. And some, like Iris, 17, are too young to vote.
Iris said she found out she was pregnant three weeks ago. She had a son at 16 and said she had already reached her limits as she tried to raise a 13-month-old, finish high school and work evening shifts at Burger King. She worried that having another child would make it impossible for her to attend community college next year to study medical assisting.
“It’s not the right time,” he said. “I don’t want to work at Burger King for the rest of my life. I want to go to school.”
She didn’t know how she could fit another crib into the bedroom where she and her son slept in her family’s mobile home. So on Friday morning, she sat in the lobby of the clinic, bouncing the 13-month-old in her arms and waiting for her name to be called.
Her mother, Ruby, had taken the morning off her job as a cleaner to accompany Iris to the clinic. She said she had religious doubts about abortion, but was forced to put them aside.
“It’s not allowed under God,” Ruby said, “but sometimes, it’s necessary.”
Iris said she believed abortion should be legal and would vote for pro-choice candidates or Arizona’s abortion rights ballot. But she turns 18 on November 6, the day after the election.
