Terrified to Try: The Mental Anguish of Motherhood in South Carolina

In a state where abortion bans endanger lives and strip away autonomy, one South Carolina mother shares how fear, grief and rage have made her question whether she can risk motherhood again.

This essay is part of an ongoing Gender & Democracy series, presented in partnership with Groundswell Fund and Groundswell Action Fund, highlighting the work of Groundswell partners advancing inclusive democracy. You’ll find stories, reflections and accomplishments—told in their own words—by grassroots leaders, women of color, Indigenous women, and trans and gender-expansive people supported by Groundswell. By amplifying these voices—their solutions, communities, challenges and victories—our shared goal is to show how intersectional organizing strengthens democracy.

A recent headline on social media infuriated me:

“Is starting a family today an act of hope—or selfishness? Women debate whether motherhood is the most selfish or selfless thing you can do.”

It struck a chord for several reasons, but mainly because it completely ignores why the decision to have or not have children feels so complicated today.

This kind of framing pits women against each other in a false moral tug-of-war, pushing us to pick a side on an issue that’s deeply personal and far more complex. In a world where bodily autonomy and reproductive rights are under attack, political tension is at a fever pitch, and as economic injustice persists, rather than draw battle lines, we should join forces to challenge the systems that are actively failing us.  

Many women choose not to have children for a variety of reasons. U.S. fertility rates reached a historic low in 2023, hardly a surprise given the immediate aftermath of the fall of Roe in June 2022. The Dobbs decision stripped women of the fundamental right to make choices about their own bodies, even as the United States continues to have the highest rate of maternal deaths of any high-income nation. We are living in a world that disregards our autonomy and would rather see us suffer than access basic healthcare. 

For women on the fence about having children, I can imagine how this decision quickly shifted towards childlessness out of fear for their safety and well-being.

For those of us who are already mothers, or who long to become mothers, the reality is gutting. We are essentially asked to sacrifice ourselves for the mere possibility of motherhood—and if anything goes even slightly wrong, we risk being denied the care we need.

These aren’t just abstract fears. They’re real, lived consequences. How do I know? Because it happened to me.

I had just entered my second trimester of my second pregnancy when we learned that our daughter had a fatal fetal anomaly—one that would likely cause me to miscarry (the doctors were shocked I hadn’t already) or lead to her death at birth or shortly after. To say I was devastated would be an understatement. Nothing prepares you for the kind of grief that kind of news unleashes.

The obvious course of action, for both my mental and physical health, was to get an abortion and begin the long, brutal grieving process (which, honestly, will never fully end). But because of South Carolina’s abortion ban and the inability to definitively prove the anomaly (they even recommended pulling my uterus down to attempt to get a sample of the placenta), I had to leave the state, my support system and my young son just to access the healthcare I needed.

Would you like to know what’s worse than receiving the worst news of your life? Having to drive 16 hours round trip, as if it’s a vacation, to get the help you need. Currently, 41 states have abortion bans in effect. I am not an outlier. I am one of many who have suffered, and will continue to suffer, under these outrageous bans. 

Let me be clear: Anyone should be able to get an abortion for any reason they choose. Every person deserves the right to decide if, when and how to parent–without political interference.

I share my story because this experience shook me wide awake in the most violent way possible. As someone who deeply loves being a mother, it’s made me question whether I can—or even want to—try to have more children. It has ignited a deep rage in me for the women who are denied the care they deserve, who cannot shape their own futures because of our state’s unnecessary and cruel laws designed solely to control them. 

I had to leave the state, my support system and my young son just to access the healthcare I needed.

I want readers to understand that the systems of democracy are failing us. For many women like me, it’s not that we don’t want to have children. It’s that we are numb with fear at the thought of starting—or growing—a family in a state that refuses to protect or support us. 

South Carolina is making us terrified to try. 

South Carolina, you are the reason we will not have children. Our choices are a consequence of your cruelty. 

And I know I’m not alone in my fear. I’ve heard from countless others who carry the same fear, grief and anger—both personally and through my work at the Women’s Rights and Empowerment Network of South Carolina (WREN), where we fight every single day for a better future for women and girls in our state.

So, it frustrates me when headlines oversimplify the complex realities of motherhood. Motherhood doesn’t fit neatly into a box. It’s neither selfless nor selfish—it’s everything in between, often all at once. It is not a stance you must take in order to be relevant or politically correct. It does not grant moral superiority whether you choose to enter into motherhood or not.

Motherhood is a deeply nuanced, ever-evolving journey, full of conflicting emotions. Those of us who wrestle with the decision to bring children into this world are doing so with thoughtfulness, love and care. We are raising the next generation with intention. 

And those who choose not to have children? They’ll be right beside us—shaping the world our children grow up in through their advocacy, care and commitment to building a better world for all.

Editor’s note: The Ms. series, Our Abortion Stories, chronicles readers’ experiences of abortion pre- and post-Roe. Abortions are sought by a wide range of people, for many different reasons. There is no single story. Share your abortion story by emailing myabortionstory@msmagazine.com.