My Pregnancy vs. the State of Texas

Day: October 17, 2022

The loss of my daughter was inevitable. What happened next was not.

BY AMANDA ZURAWSKI

I was 18 weeks pregnant when I knew something was wrong. My body was leaking thick and yellowish discharge, and my pelvis felt what I could only describe as abnormally “open.” 

A shockingly brief examination later, I was diagnosed with an “incompetent cervix”—a condition in which the cervix prematurely dilates, usually during the second trimester of pregnancy and often leading to premature birth. 

The loss of my daughter, I was told, was inevitable. What happened next was not. 

It was evident from the moment my doctor saw my bulging amniotic sac that this was not a question of if I would lose my baby—the baby my husband and I wanted so badly and had worked for 18 months with the help of science and medicine to conceive. It was a question of when.

If we had conceived the previous year when we began our journey with infertility, or if we lived in a different state, my healthcare team would have been able to treat me immediately and end my doomed pregnancy as soon as possible, without risk to my life or my health. I wouldn’t have had to wait in anguish for days for the inescapable ill fate that awaited. But this was August 23, 2022, in the state of Texas, where abortion is illegal unless the pregnant person is facing “a life-threatening physical condition aggravated by, caused by, or arising from a pregnancy.” Somehow, any medical help to make the horrific inevitability of losing my beloved child 22 weeks early less difficult qualified as an illegal abortion. 

My doctor outlined the roadmap in no uncertain terms: I could wait however long it took to go into labor naturally, if I did at all, knowing that my baby would be stillborn or pass away soon after; I could wait for my baby’s heartbeat to stop, and then we could end the pregnancy; or—most alarmingly—I could develop an infection and become so sick that my life would become endangered. Not until one of those things happened would a single medical professional in the state of Texas legally be allowed to act. It was a waiting game, the most horrific version of a staring contest: Whose life would end first? Mine, or my daughter’s?

I knew I was going to lose my baby. And I knew it could be days—or weeks—of living with paralyzing agony before we could move forward. 

Amanda and her husband Josh on their wedding day.
Amanda and her husband Josh on their wedding day. (Image courtesy of Amanda Zurawski)

People have asked why we didn’t get on a plane or in our car to go to a state where the laws aren’t so restrictive. But we live in the middle of Texas, and the nearest “sanctuary” state is at least an 8-hour drive. Developing sepsis—which can kill quickly—in a car in the middle of the West Texas desert, or 30,000 feet above the ground, is a death sentence, and it’s not a choice we should have had to even consider. But we did, albeit briefly.

Instead, it took three days at home until I became sick “enough” that the ethics board at our hospital agreed we could legally begin medical treatment; three days until my life was considered at-risk “enough” for the inevitable premature delivery of my daughter to be performed; three days until the doctors, nurses, and other healthcare professionals were allowed to do their jobs. 

By the time I was permitted to deliver, a rapidly spreading infection had already claimed my daughter’s life and was in the process of claiming mine.

I developed a raging fever and dangerously low blood pressure and was rushed to the ICU with sepsis. Tests found both my blood and my placenta teeming with bacteria that had multiplied, probably as a result of the wait. I would stay in the ICU for three more days as medical professionals battled to save my life. 

Friends visited every night. Family flew in from across the country. I didn’t realize until nearly a month later that my doctors, nurses, and loved ones feared I was going to die. 

We still don’t know the extent of damage the wait or the infection had on my body. I’m facing months of procedures and tests to know whether my eggs or my reproductive system were permanently harmed. In fact, later this week I’m having surgery to remove the massive amount of scar tissue plaguing my uterus as a result of the infections. We don’t know yet whether the baby we want more than anything will ever be possible.

Everything that happened after my cervix dilated was avoidable, and it never should have happened. What’s worse is I’m not the only one. This will happen to many women—of all races, all ethnicities, all ages, all across the country—if we don’t fight back. 

When the six-week abortion ban in Texas passed last year and Roe vs. Wade was overturned this year, I was furious. But as someone who was then desperately trying everything I could to have a child, I never imagined it would impact me personally. I didn’t realize then the extent to which these laws would truly restrict a woman’s right to make the right decisions for herself, her body, and her future children. I didn’t realize the laws I was angry about would soon prevent me from safe access to healthcare. I didn’t realize these laws would directly prevent doctors from being able to protect their patients in so many ways. 

But it’s not just me, and it’s not just Texas. As more states pass similar laws—let alone if members of Congress enact a federal ban on abortion—my story will become the norm. The number of people who will be hurt will be too much to bear, and we have to do something to stop it. 

Being angry isn’t enough. To enact change, we must vote and make sure our elected officials know that this is not okay and we will not allow it.

We named our daughter Willow—after the tree that’s known for its ability to withstand adversity and fight against harsh conditions. With our Willow, we’ll show our strength and we will fight. 


Amanda Zurawski lives in Texas with her husband, Josh, whom she met in preschool in their home state of Indiana, and their dogs Paisley and Millie.

Stay tuned for more United States of Abortion Stories. And read more here about the medical facts in Amanda’s case. 

For abortion access resources and to create a voting plan for the 2022 midterm elections, visit iwillharness.com/abortion.

Video Credits

Director: Amy Elliott
Editor: Ellen Callaghan
DP: Pat Blackard

Camera: Tony Lopez
Audio: Chris Kupeli
Field producer: Karen Bernstein
Music: “Come On Doom, Let’s Party”
Written and performed by Emily Wells
Courtesy of Thesis & Instinct
By arrangement with Terrorbird Media


This film is a project of The Meteor Fund, and produced in partnership with Harness; with support from Pop Culture Collaborative.


"You Can't Just Tell Someone to Go Home and Pass an 18-Week Fetus. That's Not Safe."

Day: October 17, 2022

The doctors behind Obstetricians for Reproductive Justice break down the medicine behind Amanda’s case—and what should have happened

BY MEGAN CARPENTIER

Amanda’s case highlights a key problem about being pregnant in an anti-abortion state in post-Roe America. Vague laws that prioritize the “life” of even a non-viable fetus above the health or life of the person carrying it prevents doctors from providing crucial care in dangerous and life-threatening situations. 

That’s because, until September 2021, there was one red line in the law that even the most anti-abortion state legislators could not cross: There had to be exceptions to any and every abortion restriction, even after fetal viability, “for the preservation of the life or health of the mother.”

But last year, when the U.S. Supreme Court allowed the state of Texas to implement its ban on abortions after six weeks—10 months before it overturned Roe v. Wade—it allowed the state to set a new standard. 

Under Texas’ S.B. 8, the only time an abortion might be allowed after cardiac activity is detected would be in the case of a “medical emergency”…which the statute does not define. (Another section of the state’s abortion law does define a medical emergency as a condition that “places the woman in danger of death or a serious risk of substantial impairment of a major bodily function,” though medical providers and lawyers say it’s unclear whether it applies to S.B. 8 and notes that a woman’s health is a better standard.) But because S.B. 8 created a private right of action, even a doctor who can absolutely prove there was a medical emergency would still have to go to court to make their case if sued.

These legal burdens made the situation for Amanda’s doctors untenable. Her condition was likely to cause a “medical emergency,” but they couldn’t treat it as one until it became much more dangerous for her.

Drs. Jenn Conti, Heather Irobunda, and Jennifer Lincoln of Obstetricians for Reproductive Justice have spent time with Amanda and her husband. They sat down with The Meteor to explain the medical facts, and what patients are facing.

Tell us more about Amanda’s diagnosis. What is an “incompetent cervix” and how common is it?

Dr. Heather Irobunda: Cervical insufficiency (or incompetency) happens in about 1% of all pregnancies. However, it happens in about 20% of people who end up having miscarriages [in the second trimester]. 

Dr. Jennifer Lincoln: By definition, this is a painless cervical dilation, as opposed to typical preterm labor or labor, where you have contractions and it hurts. With cervical insufficiency, you don’t know, or there might just be these vague symptoms like Amanda had, where she’s like, “Something just doesn’t feel right.”

Dr. Irobunda: Sometimes a patient will come in for a routine ultrasound around 20 weeks, and then we may notice that their cervix is shortened or is dilated. 

Dr. Lincoln: Sometimes what we’ll see is a cervix that is so completely shortened that it’s non-existent anymore, and it’s also dilated. Or, when we look in the vagina with the speculum, all we see is the amniotic sac because it’s basically prolapsed down past where the cervix is. That was the case for Amanda when she went in.

Dr. Irobunda: It can happen so quickly: You can evaluate a patient a week or a few days before and everything looks fine. And then all of a sudden, your patient comes back in and is like, “I feel, like, a lot of pressure. Things feel weird. Can you check me out?” And then their cervix can be completely dilated and there’s no real reason. 

Dr. Lincoln: But, as you can imagine, the term “cervical incompetence,” like many obstetric terms we have, is a really terribly guilt-producing word.

What is the normal course of treatment?

Dr. Irobunda: What we can do depends on how long the cervix is. If the cervix is just shortened and not open, we can do something called a rescue cerclage, which is a stitch we basically put in the cervix to try to keep the cervix closed until term. But if there’s pretty much nothing left and it’s dilated, unfortunately, there’s not much that we can do to close the cervix back up or prevent it from dilating more.

Dr. Lincoln: Sometimes part of the fetus is even in the vagina. Or it’s not possible to treat with cerclage because they’re showing other signs of infection, and if we were then to put a stitch in their cervix and basically sew in an infected bag of water and placenta and fetus, they would be at a much higher risk of having complications and going on to be septic.

Dr. Irobunda: In these cases, this is going to, unfortunately, end up with a baby that will not be alive. Depending on when, there may be the option of waiting and seeing how long it takes for your body to kind of kick the rest of this into gear and deliver the fetus that had passed on (which is called “expectant management” and is more common in earlier miscarriages).

Dr. Lincoln: But you can’t just tell somebody to go home and expectantly wait to pass an 18-week size fetus. That’s not going to be safe for anybody. The risk of infection is so high, especially with an exposed membrane and bag of water in the vagina. And then Amanda’s ruptured.

Dr. Irobunda: In my state, New York, there’s also the option that we can help induce this miscarriage by giving you medications in the hospital while we are monitoring you. Then it would come out of the vagina and we can give you as much pain medication as you need to get through that. And then the other option is to do a procedure called a dilation and evacuation, in which we would sedate you and then we use various instruments to remove what’s left of the pregnancy.

Dr. Lincoln: What should have been done without all these laws is not a difficult question. In a case where you’ve got somebody who has no cervix left, their bag of water was exposed in the vagina for days, now their bag of water is broken, every OB-GYN is trained to know that all of our patients look very stable until the moment they fall off that cliff and they’re not.

You’re talking about sepsis?

Dr. Lincoln: Yes. Patients can go from being healthy and fine to being septic in a matter of an hour. If you walked in like she did, we would say, “We need to move forward with delivery. You are stable now, this could very much change, and so we need to get the infection out of you, which unfortunately means the placenta and the fetus.” And it’s hard because these are people who want the baby. Sometimes you just wish you could leave people alone or say, “Let me give you a few days to decide.” In this particular situation for Amanda, I don’t think any OB-GYN would have felt comfortable doing that.

Dr. Irobunda: The longer that person remains pregnant, number one, it increases the risk of bad outcomes in terms of things like infection, sepsis, bleeding, and hemorrhage. But it also does a lot mentally to that patient and the family, just knowing that this pregnancy is a miscarriage and that it is not going to end well. We need to minimize the suffering of those involved. It’s not right.

What do you see as the long-term effects of these laws that prohibit or inhibit doctors from performing abortions?

Dr. Lincoln: These laws are tying our hands and, eventually, will end up killing patients. When these people say, “Well, there’s an exception so that’s OK,” well, actually, there’s not. The bottom line is that when somebody can go from being healthy to dead in 30 minutes, how are we supposed to wade through all of that with lawyers who have no clue? I guarantee you they are not awake at 2:00 AM. 

Dr.  Irobunda: It’s really hard to make sweeping laws about things like abortion because all these cases are different. The medicine is not black and white, [and] these laws don’t give anybody any wiggle room. We’re putting people in danger.

Dr. Jenn Conti: These laws affect every aspect of how women’s healthcare is handled from here on out. Once you start criminalizing doctors for doing their jobs, no one is safe—because there’s this paralyzing fear amongst healthcare providers that, if anything goes wrong involving pregnancy, someone somewhere could accuse them of illegal activity. And that’s all that matters in states like Texas: an accusation of guilt.   

What would your advice be for other women in these circumstances? 

Dr. Conti: If you’ve experienced post-Roe harm, I first want to offer my sympathy to you, because you didn’t deserve that. 

If you want to share your story as a way of giving yourself a voice and fighting back, you can head to our website and use the contact form at the bottom of the page to either share anonymously or indicate that you are interested in becoming part of future ORJ storytelling projects.

You can read Amanda’s full story, in her own words, here. Stay tuned for more United States of Abortion stories. 

For abortion access resources and to create a voting plan for the 2022 midterm elections, visit iwillharness.com/abortion.


Megan Carpentier is currently an editor at Oxygen.com and a columnist at Dame Magazine. Her work has been published in Rolling Stone, Glamour, The New Republic, the Washington Post, and many more.