This article is part of a special series called “One in four: How abortion access shapes America.”
It is rare that anyone gets to stand at the intersection of being a patient in need of care, a lawmaker, and a health care provider. But that’s where I found myself in March. I am an Arizona state senator. I’m also a nurse practitioner and a mother of two. My husband and I live in Mesa, where we look after my sons, our two dogs, and three chubby cats.
Life is, as we all know, driven by the unexpected. We were not trying to get pregnant. In the last two years we had two failed pregnancies and had stopped actively trying. But I wasn’t on birth control either, and the moment I took that pregnancy test I had to fight the urge to hope.
With each ultrasound, it became clear that this pregnancy wasn’t progressing. Again.
With each ultrasound, it became clear that this pregnancy wasn’t progressing. Again. I had already suffered through a very traumatic incomplete miscarriage in 2022. I didn’t want to go through it again. Thankfully, the option was still on the table, and we scheduled an abortion. I felt at peace. For a moment, anyway.
What ensued after scheduling my procedure only cemented what I already knew: Republican officials don’t trust women.
At my first doctor’s visit with Planned Parenthood, I shared my bloodwork and ultrasounds with the doctor and we discussed that my pregnancy was not viable. In spite of this, she was required to ask me why I was having an abortion. She was required to tell me that I could consider adoption or parenting instead of abortion. She was required to tell me that if I chose to continue my pregnancy, the father would be required to provide me with financial support. She was required to give me another transvaginal ultrasound. She was required to ask me if I wanted to look at it. She was required by law to drag me through this line of disinformation, confusion, and untruths.
I stopped feeling peaceful and another feeling washed over me, drowning me with its paralyzing weight: anger. As a medical provider myself, my anger didn’t land on my doctor; she was as much a prisoner as I was. I was angry at the politicians who had put laws in place to force doctors to try to coerce their patients out of having an abortion, regardless of circumstance.
So, consequences be damned, I took back what power I had. I rose on the Senate floor and told my story to the world. I said I was getting an abortion, on the chance that some woman out there would hear my story and hold her head a little higher when she is forced to sit through this same outdated rhetoric crafted by power-hungry politicians. Women should not have to navigate this experience blind, and this was my one real opportunity to bring us together.
My abortion took place less than three weeks before the ultra-conservative Arizona Supreme Court handed down its decision to uphold a near-complete abortion ban, dating back to 1864. The only exception it provides is if the pregnant patient is actively dying.
At any point in time over the last 100-something years, the Arizona legislature could have repealed this ban and stopped the clock on the Supreme Court’s activities. Sadly, the bill to repeal the ban, sponsored by state Democratic House Rep. Stephanie Stahl Hamilton, sat collecting dust as Republicans danced around the issue and villainized women for political gain. They were busy pushing fetal personhood bills and finding legislative ways to punish the homeless and the poor, after all.
But through unwavering determination this past April, Democrats used every avenue at our disposal to apply pressure on the majority Republican caucus. The 1864 total abortion ban was bad for their election ambitions, and in an obvious act of political desperation, Republicans buckled and Democrats were able to secure the repeal of this very unpopular and frankly gruesome ban.









