Two weeks ago I had a crazy Friday/Saturday. Two shoots for my sisterhood column Friday, then another shoot that evening, then a late night drive to Birmingham, Alabama for an early shoot at an abortion clinic in the morning. I didn’t have much time in Birmingham due to a noon shoot outside of Atlanta the same day, and the editors said that was okay, they wanted me to shoot it because I’m “sensitive.” I was glad to hear I was chosen for such an intense shoot, but pretty nervous. When I called the woman who runs the abortion clinic, she told me to come in the back door and to hide my camera. This same clinic was where Eric Rudolph killed and maimed two people by setting off a bomb. My job was to photograph a woman as she was given a sonogram moments before she underwent the abortion procedure. I also could not show the face of the doctor or the woman. I also needed to get the protesters who were staged across the street.

Doctors in Alabama are required to give women a sonogram and ask the woman if she wants to see it before undergoing the procedure. The story was about this. This state requirement assumes a woman coming in to an abortion clinic hasn’t given the decision thought, that she cannot make her own decisions without visually seeing the fetus.

From the story: 

Alabama is one of three states, along with Louisiana and Mississippi, that require abortion providers to conduct an ultrasound and offer women a chance to peer inside the womb.

Late last month, Oklahoma went a step further. Overriding a veto by Gov. Brad Henry, a Democrat, the Republican-controlled Legislature enacted a law mandating that women be presented with an ultrasound image and with a detailed oral description of the embryo or fetus.

So, with camera tucked in a large purse, I walked down the street to the abortion clinic. I was yelled at by one man, Charles Eiland, “You can’t just dispose of this baby and pretend he doesn’t exist.” He said it with a smile on his face to the other women who hurried inside past speakers at the clinic door blasting music, ideally to drown out the protest. I later spoke to Charles and although I can’t say I agree with him yelling at women who are obviously in a bad place, he seemed to come from a place of love. Religious love, no doubt, but he had a kindness about him, which feels a little odd to say, considering he was standing on the side of the bomber years before. He told me he could relate to the women. “We don’t come out here to harass people, we come out here to speak the truth,” he said. He said he knows the women who go to the clinic are in a crisis and he understands that because he had to give a son up for adoption years ago. “I’m just trying to get them to think about birthdays and where they began.”

Inside, the woman who runs the clinic introduced me to Laura. New York Times Reporter Kevin Sack had spoken to her days before and she’d agreed to be in a photo, sans face. I was nervous that Laura would change her mind. I was worried about Laura. She was in such a vulnerable spot even without me there. Then I spoke to her alone for a bit. She had a bright, albeit nervous, smile. She told me she already had a teenage son. She might lose her job if she had to take maternity leave. She’d researched Kevin Sack and found out he was a Pulitzer winner. She was in her mid-30s. We both had to wait for the doctor, who was more than 45 minutes away. As I watched other women come into the clinic, Laura stood out as different. She was 10 to 15 years older than the women who came in. I was shocked by how many women came-in in the hour I was there. All of them changing into gowns and sitting quietly in one room.

Finally, when the doctor arrived, Laura in a hospital gown got onto the table with stirrups. She was really nervous. I thanked her again for allowing me to be present. As the doctor applied the gel to her belly for the sonogram, her eyes welled up with tears and she told me how far times had come, how years ago gay people were afraid to hold hands. Lights went off, the sonogram turned on. There was the tiny pea in her belly with a heartbeat. All within about 30 seconds, it was over. Laura declined to look at the sonogram and I walked out.

I was already late leaving Birmingham, but the crowd of three protesters was gone and replaced by over a dozen Catholic protesters in prayer. I only had a minute or two to photograph the crowd. I quickly zeroed in on Connor, 3, holding a bloody crucifix. His shirt read “I’m Pro-Life.”

It was intense going straight from the scene of an abortion to this crowd.

I got names, hopped in my car and was on the road back to Atlanta for my noon shoot.

Read the story here.

Two weeks ago I had a crazy Friday/Saturday. Two shoots for my sisterhood column Friday, then another shoot that evening, then a late night drive to Birmingham, Alabama for an early shoot at an abortion clinic in the morning. I didn't have much time in Birmingham due to a noon shoot outside of Atlanta ...