Why Are States Like New York and California Controlling Abortion Drug Policy in Louisiana?
When Roe v. Wade was reversed, we celebrated in Louisiana. We are a state that has chosen life. We have elected leaders who believe that children in the womb deserve to be protected, and our laws reflect that belief. Abortion centers have closed. Our legislature has classified abortion medications as controlled substances. We have worked to build a culture that serves women and protects their babies.
But even as our laws have changed, the abortion industry has not backed down. He adapted. And now we’re fighting a new, much more chaotic battle: unlabeled abortion drugs are flooding our state from places like California and New York.
Every week, women enter our center with medications delivered in nondescript envelopes. No Louisiana doctor. No in-person exam. Sometimes no clear instructions. Just a package in the mail and a website. They sit across from us and ask, “Is it safe? What should I do?”
We are no longer just a pregnancy center. In many ways, we have become the first responders.
Recently, a young woman came to us after taking abortion medication from an out-of-state Planned Parenthood. When the complications began, she called the center that had prescribed them. He was basically told, “You took the pills. You’re back home in Louisiana. Good luck.” Part of her pregnancy was still inside her and she needed immediate medical attention. She came to us because she had nowhere to turn. We immediately connected her with the medical care she needed. It saved his life.
But the physical crisis was only the beginning. As we followed her, she insisted that she was “fine.” However, she began to struggle with depression and alcohol. We see this pattern over and over again. Women are trying to put the trauma behind them as it resurfaces in mental health battles.
We also see far greater coercion than most people realize.
In southern Louisiana, a minor was forced to take abortion medication. The prescribing doctor was in New York, protected by that state’s protective laws. Louisiana authorities attempted to investigate responsibility, but the doctor could not be extradited. This case only came to light because the woman had to go to the emergency room and the situation became serious enough to attract the attention of the courts.
Another woman came to us after her partner pressured her to take the medication. She didn’t want to sue him. She just wanted help. Our state has increased criminal penalties for coercion involving abortion drugs, but many women are too overwhelmed or ashamed to come forward.
At our mobile pregnancy clinic, which serves some of the most rural areas of Northeast Louisiana, a woman came on board while she was in the process of having an abortion after taking the pills. In this community, the nearest hospital was 30 to 45 minutes in any direction. We are in a maternal health care desert. If she had started hemorrhaging, time would have been of the essence. She was afraid. Most women are once the reality of what is happening sets in.
Our local hospital told us they see women dealing with the effects of abortion drugs every shift – hemorrhages, complications, miscarriages from chemical abortions. Monroe is not a large metropolitan city. If it happens here, it happens everywhere.
We also hear from women who were asked not to tell emergency room staff what they had taken. They are told to say they are having a miscarriage. They are told to use alternative search engines. The pills arrive in anonymous envelopes. Fear is built into the process.
Meanwhile, pregnancy centers like ours are left to pick up the pieces. We hired a professional counselor because the mental health consequences are unlike anything we’ve seen in my 20 years as a director. We do this because women deserve more than an envelope in the mail and a goodbye message from a foreign abortion drug dealer.
Louisiana lawmakers are doing what they can. Classifying abortion medications as controlled substances was an important step. Our attorney general has filed a lawsuit challenging the reckless expansion of mail-in abortion. But as long as the FDA allows abortion drugs to be distributed without in-person safeguards, states like ours are fighting with their hands tied behind their backs.
For us, this is not a theoretical debate. This is a daily reality on the ground. These are young women sitting in our office with medications purchased online that they don’t understand. They are rural mothers without means of transportation who wonder if what they are experiencing is normal. These are incomplete abortions. It’s coercion. It’s a trauma.
Job-Roe deerour center was turned upside down. Before, we felt like a small ministry quietly serving our community. Today is like standing at the gates, facing a Goliath who defies every safeguard our state has attempted to put in place.
Louisiana chose life. Our laws reflect this choice. But until federal regulators restore common-sense safety standards and end the mass shipment of abortion drugs across state lines, our women and children will remain vulnerable to policies dictated by states that do not share our values.
The women and children of Louisiana deserve better than this.
Lyndsey Sikes is a Louisiana-based pregnancy center leader who works on the front lines serving women facing unexpected pregnancies. She passionately advocates for life, strengthens families and mobilizes communities to support both mother and child.
