From the front line of the abortion wars
Susan Wicklund explores abortion and her role as a provider in a memoir that often surprises.
Abortion is the subject of many books, but it's highly unusual when a volume that looks like yet another partisan salvo actually contradicts the expected "party line" in important and revealing ways.Skip to next paragraph
Subscribe Today to the Monitor
Such is the case in Susan Wicklund's This Common Secret. Wicklund enlisted as a front-line soldier in America's abortion wars in 1989, when the conflict was most intense. Extreme right-to-life groups like Operation Rescue physically besieged abortion clinics, and many abortion providers feared for their personal safety.
Wicklund was an unusual recruit. She started college as a 26-year-old single mother, but went on to win admission to medical school. In 1988 she completed her professional training and took a job at her hometown hospital in Grantsburg, Wis.
Wicklund replaced her own family doctor, who was retiring after a long career that included the quiet provision of abortions both before and after Roe v. Wade's nationwide legalization in 1973. The Grantsburg hospital forbad elective abortions, and so Wicklund soon found herself assisting old childhood friends with unwanted pregnancies after hours and then treating their ensuing miscarriages. Her own experience in obtaining an abortion in 1976 had cemented Wicklund's pro-choice stance even prior to medical school. (However, here the book's ugly depiction of a doctor who told her to "shut up and lie still" differs radically from an account Wicklund gave to a Washington Post reporter in 1993 when she spoke instead of "a real kind physician.")
But Wicklund relates how, during her internship year, she witnessed a late second trimester abortion of a fetus whom ultrasound had shown suffered from a fatal abnormality. She already knew that "an eight-week embryo is about the size of my thumbnail," but "the visual reality of a twenty-one week fetus" undergoing disarticulation in what physicians call a "D&E" (for dilation and evacuation) abortion was something else entirely. A glimpse of one of the fetus's arms during the procedure almost undid her. "One of the nurses in the room escorted me out when the color left my face."
Wicklund had no second thoughts about early abortions like the one she had sought, but "confronting a twenty-one week fetus is very different," she honestly admits. "It was not something I could be comfortable with. From that moment, I chose to limit my abortion practice to the first trimester," with an absolute ceiling of fourteen weeks.