There was a time abortion in the United States was not legal anywhere.
Kansas City became a hub for unwed mothers and for adoption thanks to the design back in the day of railroad infrastructure that met in the center of the country.
The story of one particular sanitarium is of most interest to me. The stories of what life was like are beyond comprehension, and only recently have been emerging. Largely, this is an ignored perspective of life before Roe v. Wade, the recently overturned 1974 federal case that made abortion legal. Why? Simply because no one still thinks about it. Instead, there are lots of assumptions of “baby mills” and black market procedures. But the truth is, the operationalization of “baby birthing centers” was a sophisticated business model. It likely was very profitable thanks to a steady supply of unwed mothers.
The Willows Maternity Sanitarium in Kansas City was one maternity hospital that operated until the 1960s. It was funded without any public money. Families paid if they were referred by a network of doctors. Evidence suggests many, if not most, “indiscretions” were funded by the patrilineal line.
In return for a handsome fee, unwed mothers were nurtured and cared for in a community of other unwed mothers. Secrecy, anonymity and confidentiality were part of the “all inclusive” package price.
Records were intended to disappear forever. Consistently missing documentation of the father on publicly recorded birth certificates were sealed until only recently.
Of the approximately 35,000 babies born at the Willows – enough for a large town in South Carolina – I have a relative born and adopted there, which makes it all fascinating to learn.
Her unwed mother was 20 when she boarded the train home. She was empty-handed. Beyond that, we are left with our imagination as to how she became pregnant, by choice or not. But we know this:
- She was not afforded the choice to raise her child.
- She didn’t have the right to ever learn of her child’s future.
- And how she lived with that surely terrifying and crushing decision that others made on her behalf makes one wonder.
It would haunt me forever, that’s all I know. During this year’s Mother’s Day, I honored the difficult journey of that 20-year-old young woman.I hope she knows in the life ever after that her legacy carries on in unimaginable and profound ways.
Today in South Carolina, we are on the cusp of returning to these days as state leaders – mostly male – are considering a moratorium on a woman’s physical, emotional and spiritual agency over “motherhood/pregnancy.”
The effort, if successful by the male-dominated legislature, will ban personal, family, medical and spiritual choices of women. Women are born with all their eggs, and tend to all that happens with that design. But now, maybe, a sperm fertilized egg in a South Carolinian womb will need South Carolina legislative oversight after six weeks. Really? In 2023?
In the coming weeks, we will see what, if anything, passes and what becomes state law. How that will affect the 2024 election? And how will courts consider it, when they have already ruled that a similar law is an unconstitutional invasion of privacy.
Thanks to courage and conviction and bipartisan cooperation, five women state senators wore their womb wisdom loud and proud. They prevented a bill from becoming the new law of the land in South Carolina.
But if a workaround effort passes, it will reflect a very big step back to a disturbing time in this country’s timeline.
The irony for me: I wouldn’t exist if abortion had been legal way back yonder.
Abortion would likely have been an easier, quicker “fix” to finance than adoption. Most decisions were father-funded choice back then.
So, I have cognitive dissonance. I birthed three baby girls in South Carolina. All were unplanned. All were blessings to our family.
And I was blessed to have the support and love of their dad and other family throughout all those experiences.
I will always stand with a woman’s agency over her own body and motherhood. My days of deciding “what would I do” are over in my life. It is my daughters, nieces and all their friends that matter to me now.
My Mother’s Day wish for 2023- 2024? More womb representation in state elected bodies.
South Carolina resident Sharon E. Richardson is a noted conservationist who operates a public benefit corporation to save land and promote conservation.
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