Jena Gross almost died having an emergency C-section in 2021.
"It was terrifying because Ellie did not make any noise when they pulled her out of me," Gross recalled. "And so I am like starting to cry on the table. My guts are everywhere. My husband is like trying to figure out what's going on like it was. And I just kept asking like, 'is she okay? Is she okay? Is she okay?'"
She had to be induced at 36 weeks because Ellie’s life was at risk.
"It was the longest five minutes of my life," she said.
Now, Ellie’s a healthy toddler, and the 31-year-old Parma mother and her husband want to give her a sibling. But Gross's medical history raises the risks of miscarrying — and she feels unsure about future protections for herself and her family.
"I really want another kid... because I love being a mom. I love being with Ellie and everything," she said as she choked back tears.
After the U.S. Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade in 2022, Ohio’s abortion laws changed significantly and quickly: hours after the Supreme Court decision, the state implemented a Heartbeat Law which dropped the limit for an abortion from 22 weeks of pregnancy to about six weeks, which a judge temporarily blocked. Then, Ohioans passed a constitutional amendment that put the limit back at 22 weeks.
That tumult is terrifying for Gross and other women like her who worry the law could change again while they’re pregnant. Stories of women dying in states with restrictive abortion laws like Texas after doctors hesitated to provide miscarriage treatment feel very personal.
"I have to wait until this baby dies inside of me and could possibly go septic... you know what I mean?" Gross said. "And then not only that but... Ellie loses a mom."
Mike Gonidakis, the president of Ohio Right to Life, a powerful anti-abortion lobbying group, declined an interview with Ideastream. He said in a written statement that concerns over abortion access and miscarriage treatment in Ohio are unwarranted.
No one is attempting to ban miscarriage care, he wrote.
But abortion access advocates say they understand why women are concerned.
"A lot of times people want to play games and say no one wants to deny miscarriage care, but... actually it doesn't matter because if it's legally considered an abortion, then all the restrictions on abortion that we have in Ohio apply," said Jessie Hill, a law professor at Case Western Reserve University. Hill also serves as a volunteer attorney for the American Civil Liberties Union of Ohio.
In many cases, abortion care and miscarriage treatment are the same medical and surgical processes.
In Ohio, if an embryo or fetus is removed while it still has a heartbeat, it’s legally defined as an abortion, even if the pregnancy is nonviable, Hill said. She said abortion is legal in the state so most women facing a miscarriage should not have a problem getting care.
"My view is that the amendment that was passed in November of 2023 is very strong in terms of its protections for reproductive freedom. It is very clearly written," she said. "I have to say that I am optimistic that the courts are going to follow the law and do their jobs.
Any federal abortion ban would supersede state law. President Donald Trump said in October for the first time he would veto any such attempt.
Still, some women who face possible high-risk pregnancies say they are looking at the state government, where anti-abortion Republicans — some of whom have vowed to fight the new constitutional protections — control the Statehouse, the Supreme Court and the Governor’s mansion with a new knowledge that, like Roe, constitutional protections can be taken away.
Those include Paige, a 25-year-old living in Columbus with her fiancé. She did not want to provide her full name to protect her medical privacy.
"I want to make sure that there is no ifs, ands or buts if I have to be put in a situation where I have to make a choice between my life or the baby's because of this preexisting condition I have," she said.
Paige has two uteruses: a rare condition that means carrying a child to term is nearly impossible.
"Me choosing not [to] have a child is not a form of protest," she said. "It is a genuine fear for my health and safety."
For Jena Gross, and many people like her who want to get pregnant, Ohio’s political climate and the fall of Roe have forced her to weigh questions of birth and death — fear and longing.
"I'm kind of at the point where I just like, I feel like I'm damned if I do, damned if I don't," she said. "But I feel like not having another kid is like the lesser of two evils... because I'm protecting myself. I'm protecting... Ellie."
