Idaho’s Abortion Restrictions Lead to Absence of OB-GYNs in Town.
In Sandpoint, Idaho, the maternity ward ceased operations. In just a few months, healthcare services for women in the rural area were severely depleted.
The setting resembles an American ideal: a stretch of urban beach alive with the sounds of young families, laughter filling the air under the scorching summer sun. Mothers chase their children, who splash about in the shallow ripples of Lake Pend Oreille. This scene unfolds on the fringes of Sandpoint, Idaho—a serene, picturesque lakeside town nestled in the mountainous west. Amidst this tranquil beauty and lively shoreline, you wouldn’t discern the recent surge of anxiety, sorrow, and trepidation stemming from state politics.
Among the sun-soaked beachgoers is Lauren Sanders, clad in a sea-green bikini that showcases her expectant belly. Beneath her sun hat, she keeps a watchful eye on her young daughter, Gwen, who eagerly edges closer to the water’s edge.
Sanders anticipates giving birth to her second child at home later this year, under the care of a midwife. Her pregnancy has progressed smoothly, and she’s determined to opt for a home birth. However, should unforeseen complications arise—a sudden emergency, a worrisome moment, an unexpected twist—necessitating hospital-based maternity care, she would find herself whisked into an ambulance and transported along the two-lane highway to a larger city situated half an hour away.
Mixed emotions fill her thoughts. Yet, alongside her concern, there simmers a righteous anger—directed at politicians who, in their reckless pursuit to outlaw abortion, have callously stripped away choices from pregnant individuals in Idaho, jeopardizing lives like hers.
Throughout Idaho, physicians are departing, seeking states where medical practice remains free from political interference. The repercussions of Idaho’s pro-life legislation swiftly and severely impacted Sandpoint, eroding women’s healthcare within a matter of months. For an extended period, the town boasted a bustling maternity ward that facilitated the delivery of up to 350 infants annually—today, it stands desolate. The OB-GYN unit ceased operations during the spring season, prompting a continuous exodus of doctors from the state. These medical professionals seek refuge in regions where their profession isn’t entangled in the threat of criminal charges or substantial legal battles.
“I consider myself fortunate because my pregnancy is proceeding smoothly,” Sanders reflects. “However, there are countless others out there who will be giving birth under less fortunate circumstances. People often overlook the myriad of potential complications that can arise—situations that a midwife might not be equipped to handle.”
It has evolved into a risky venture – conceiving and delivering a child in a locale devoid of both a maternity facility and any obstetricians. Sandpoint, a petite town of less than 10,000 inhabitants, has played a pivotal role as a medical nucleus for a sprawling rural expanse encompassing 50,000 people across north Idaho, Montana, and Washington.
For individuals like Sanders, seeking pregnancy care within the town has now become an unviable choice. This is the outcome when a state administration driven by a fervor to outlaw abortion imposes some of the nation’s most stringent regulations, casting a wide net that encompasses reproductive health along with a substantial portion of routine medical services. However, the women of Sandpoint assert a crucial point they wish to share: this scenario could unfold anywhere in the post-Roe United States. No place is as secure as it might seem, and the struggle will not halt at the boundaries of individual states.
Idaho is among several states equipped with trigger laws—immediate abortion restrictions that were activated when Roe v. Wade was overturned a year prior. In August 2022, the state enacted an almost complete abortion ban, permitting exceptions solely when the mother’s life is endangered or in cases of rape and incest, where a police report is mandated. The state also implemented an “abortion trafficking” prohibition, preventing the transportation of minors to other states for abortion care. Family members have the right to sue doctors for substantial sums if they perform an abortion, with medical practitioners potentially facing criminal fines and even incarceration.
In a unique move, Idaho has become the sole state in the nation to discontinue the tracking of maternal mortality rates. Advocates argue that this action seems designed to conceal the potential lethality of their decisions.
This sudden transformation has given rise to an atmosphere characterized by apprehension and unease, particularly among women and families. Krista Haller, a therapist specializing in aiding expectant individuals and new parents, notes that a significant portion of the population has lost confidence in the healthcare system.
“Abortion dominated so much of the discourse, making it a highly charged term, but it transcends that,” she explains. “It delves into the realm of women’s medical rights – that’s the core issue. Women harbor substantial concerns regarding the quality of care they will receive. Doubt lingers about their medical treatment and whether they can place trust in the healthcare system.”
Doctors are besieged by fear, compelling them to depart.
Eleven years ago, Dr. Amelia Huntsberger, accompanied by her husband, relocated to Sandpoint with intentions of establishing lasting roots, establishing a medical practice, and remaining until retirement. Dr. Huntsberger specializes in OB-GYN care, while her husband is an emergency room physician. Growing up in smaller towns within the northwestern United States, Sandpoint presented a seamless fit for them.
Come this July, the Huntsbergers’ residence on a meandering road at the town’s outskirts brimmed with boxes earmarked for moving.
Before summer’s end, they will depart, embarking on a fresh start in Oregon. This entails new vocations and schools for their trio of children. Their decision stems from a desire to practice medicine within a state where they aren’t exposed to the specter of arrest or litigation for safeguarding their patients’ lives. This outcome diverges from their original aspirations, yet, as Huntsberger conveys through intermittent tears across her patio table, leaving Idaho has become their sole viable path forward.
Doctors are besieged by fear, compelling them to depart.
Eleven years ago, Dr. Amelia Huntsberger, accompanied by her husband, relocated to Sandpoint with intentions of establishing lasting roots, establishing a medical practice, and remaining until retirement. Dr. Huntsberger specializes in OB-GYN care, while her husband is an emergency room physician. Growing up in smaller towns within the northwestern United States, Sandpoint presented a seamless fit for them.
Come this July, the Huntsbergers’ residence on a meandering road at the town’s outskirts brimmed with boxes earmarked for moving.
Before summer’s end, they will depart, embarking on a fresh start in Oregon. This entails new vocations and schools for their trio of children. Their decision stems from a desire to practice medicine within a state where they aren’t exposed to the specter of arrest or litigation for safeguarding their patients’ lives. This outcome diverges from their original aspirations, yet, as Huntsberger conveys through intermittent tears across her patio table, leaving Idaho has become their sole viable path forward.
reword, “Yeah, this is a conservative state. We knew that when we moved here. But it’s become very extreme. We now have some of the most extreme examples of government interference in healthcare that exists across the country,” says Huntsberger. “And there’s that irony – we are a liberty state: ‘You do you. I’ll do what I do.’ Except if you have a uterus and it’s something related to healthcare, then the government suddenly has a lot to say, without bothering to understand what they’re legislating. There’s some real willful ignorance here.”
“Indeed, this is a conservative state. We were aware of that when we relocated here. However, the shift has been towards an unprecedented extreme. We currently showcase some of the most exceptional instances of governmental intrusion in healthcare nationwide,” remarks Huntsberger. “The irony lies in the fact that we are deemed a bastion of liberty: ‘Live and let live.’ Except, if you possess a uterus and your circumstances pertain to healthcare, the government abruptly assumes a commanding role, often without comprehending the intricacies of what they are legislating. Genuine ignorance appears to be prevalent here.”
According to her, it appears that lawmakers have deliberately chosen not to comprehend the far-reaching consequences of the legislations they’ve put into effect. The brunt of this impact is most acutely felt by women and families, especially those lacking substantial financial resources or influence.
Similar to numerous women in Sandpoint, Huntsberger’s emotions range from anger to weariness to despondency regarding the unfolding situation. The town is fueled by the energy of women, serving as a central point for young families and thriving as a resort and tourist magnet. While it predominantly leans Republican in its voting patterns, a significant number of downtown businesses are owned and operated by women. Many were taken aback by the swift and devastating effects of the new laws on their healthcare.
Jen Jackson Quintano, proprietor of an arborist business in the town, has transitioned into a full-time organizer dedicated to safeguarding abortion rights. Like many small communities, Sandpoint aims to attract young families to settle here, but the erosion of essential healthcare resources poses a significant hindrance to this endeavor.
Initially, she recognized the necessity for women to share their personal narratives, considering the taboo nature of abortion. Upon reaching out to the community for their abortion experiences, an influx of stories followed suit. This deluge of intimate accounts took even Quintano by surprise, propelling her to transform them into a theatrical production at the local level. According to her, dispelling the stigma that enshrouds abortion constitutes a pivotal initial stride towards initiating discussions about the essential healthcare and fundamental human rights that the community has forfeited. The subsequent stage play resonated deeply.
“Tears were flowing freely, and people were openly weeping in the audience as they listened to these stories. The impact was immense. Subsequently, I began to experience a wave of individuals approaching me within the community,” she recalls. “For instance, while I was at the grocery store, standing amidst the frozen food section, a man approached me. He said, ‘I attended your stage production. I want you to know that when I was in Vietnam, I impregnated a woman. I’ve never disclosed this to my children, but I feel compelled to share my story with you.’ After he recounted his tale to me, he remarked, ‘I believe it’s time for me to open up to my children about this.'”
In March, Bonner General Health, the local hospital, revealed its decision to discontinue all obstetrical care, necessitating pregnant patients and others to seek healthcare elsewhere. The hospital’s statement attributed this move to Idaho’s recent legislative changes.
The hospital emphasized, “Esteemed and skilled physicians are departing. Identifying replacements will prove to be an exceptionally challenging task.” Furthermore, the hospital highlighted, “Moreover, the Idaho legislature persistently introduces and passes bills that criminalize physicians for providing medical care that is universally acknowledged as the standard of care.”
These threats carry tangible implications for medical practitioners. Huntsberger recounts instances where she hurriedly changed into surgical attire to conduct emergency surgery on a pregnant patient experiencing internal bleeding. During those moments, her anxiety wasn’t directed at the surgical procedure itself, but rather centered around the legislation and the potential legal ramifications of her decisions and actions in the operating room. Such apprehensions recurred on multiple occasions.
“I’m aware that this is a high-stakes situation, and I recognize the urgency. I need to get in there and perform my duty swiftly. I can manage the stress that comes with that,” she recounts her thoughts. However, what proved to be more challenging was the looming specter of potential prosecution or a lawsuit due to the procedure she was about to undertake in order to save her patient’s life.
Amid the chaos of the emergency, she found herself pondering: “What path might a prosecutor or the family choose? We’re confronted with both civil and criminal penalty laws.”
The surge of highly restrictive abortion laws has thrust doctors like Huntsberger into uncertainty about their ability to continue practicing family medicine in Idaho. In this environment, non-medical authorities hold greater influence over medical decisions than trained physicians. Throughout Idaho, doctors are departing, searching for more secure states to practice in. After months of weighing their options, marked by numerous sleepless nights, the Huntsbergers ultimately concluded that the risks and unease had reached an untenable level. The moment had arrived for them to depart.
While discussing the choice to depart, Huntsberger’s emotions once again well up. Theirs isn’t a family accustomed to constant relocation; they discovered a sense of belonging here. She acknowledges that their capacity to leave the state is also a form of privilege. Much like the broader mountain west region, Idaho grapples with growing economic disparities, rendering the prospect of upending lives to migrate to a safer state unattainable for many residents. During our conversation, Huntsberger recounts caring for two pregnant patients in the past year who were living in their vehicles—women who find themselves at the mercy of the extremities of political decisions.
“When we analyze abortion laws across the country, we can observe who shoulders the weight and impact of these restrictions. It’s predominantly individuals in lower socioeconomic strata, people of color, and Indigenous communities,” she asserts. “It’s a reinforcement of adversity for vulnerable populations.”
Idaho’s political landscape has maintained a longstanding conservative orientation, although, akin to most places, its intricacies transcend the simplistic one-dimensional perspective that national political discussions often convey. Notably, it stood as one of the pioneering states to grant women the right to vote. Reflective of much of the Rocky Mountain west, its political trajectory has been shaped by elected officials who champion notions of individual freedom and personal liberty. However, paradoxically, they enact increasingly intrusive legislation that encroaches upon the private lives and personal domains of their constituents.
In recent times, seemingly emboldened by the unrestrained rhetoric and peculiar maneuvers of Donald Trump, as well as the US Supreme Court’s abortion-related rulings, the state has taken a sharp turn towards political extremism. The local manifestation of Trumpism has infiltrated state legislatures and community administrations. Nonetheless, the women of Sandpoint caution that this orchestrated assault on human rights won’t be confined to their state’s boundaries. Idaho’s pronounced far-right currents have become a prevailing norm within the spectrum of American politics.
In tandem with its intensified implementation of abortion restrictions in the current year, the state legislature also introduced a law prohibiting gender-affirming care for minors. Moreover, the governor endorsed a stringent “bathroom bill,” stipulating that restroom and changing room usage must align with the gender assigned to an individual at birth. A proposal to forbid sex education in schools before the fifth grade eventually fizzled out after weeks of deliberation, while a measure aimed at supplying free menstrual products in schools met a similar fate.
“It does appear that decades of concerted organizing efforts are yielding results, and it seems to be gaining momentum. The undercurrents of misogyny and racism have been present for quite some time,” notes Amanda Hendrix-Komoto, a historian at Montana State University with roots in southern Idaho. She has conducted research on the region’s Mormon histories. Although the Church of Latter-Day Saints has a significant presence in Idaho, its stance on abortion and related healthcare isn’t as extreme as that of the evangelical Christians who now wield substantial political influence in the state. Instead, generations of perceiving women as slightly unequal might have contributed to fostering an environment that facilitated the erosion of rights for marginalized populations.
Huntsberger has emerged as an unexpected advocate, assuming the role of an activist – a physician who found herself compelled to raise her voice when the state encroached upon her capacity to provide care to her patients. When I inquire whether she intends to leave this advocacy behind in Oregon, she responds with a laugh, momentarily lightening the gravity of our discussion concerning the profound repercussions for Idaho families and the implications of losing access to medical services. It’s difficult to envision her refraining from addressing the impacts of anti-abortion legislation.
“None of us can predict whether our pregnancy will be straightforward or complicated. No one sets out with the intention of having a complex pregnancy. Circumstances arise – some foreseeable, others unforeseeable. Hence, there’s an element of unpredictability, almost like a game of chance,” she explains. “Being pregnant always entails more risk than not being pregnant.”
