Perspective

On a day meant for celebration, 18-year-old Nevaeh Crain found herself in agony. She woke up on October 28, 2023—the morning of her baby shower—with nausea and pain. As her family decorated their home in Vidor, Texas, Crain’s condition worsened. She began vomiting, and her fever spiked. Hours later, her boyfriend, Randall Broussard, drove her to the hospital, where she spent hours waiting without critical care.

Crain’s story captured national attention, and highlighted the impact of Texas’s abortion laws on pregnant patients in crisis.

After hours of waiting at the first hospital, Baptist Hospitals of Southeast Texas, Crain was diagnosed with strep throat, despite her severe abdominal pain and high fever. Crain went home, but at 3 a.m., she was still in intense pain. Her mother, Candace Fails, rushed her to a second hospital, Christus Southeast Texas St. Elizabeth. There, a doctor diagnosed her with sepsis—a fast-acting, often fatal infection.

Even so, the hospital discharged her again, noting that her fetus still had a heartbeat.

Crain’s pain and symptoms escalated with each hospital visit, yet fear of legal repercussions and medical ambiguity hindered the care she received.

This is a tragic example of the life-threatening consequences that abortion bans can impose on women, especially women dealing with pregnancy complications.

According to Fails, her daughter’s agony was dismissed repeatedly, with doctors more concerned about the legal implications of terminating the pregnancy than addressing her symptoms. Dr. Tony Ogburn, an OB-GYN in San Antonio, explained that Texas law requires proof that a pregnancy is nonviable before intervention, creating delays that can be deadly. Ogburn describes the legal climate as one where doctors feel they must “be absolutely certain” a pregnancy isn’t viable, lest they face criminal charges for performing what could be considered an abortion.

As Crain’s condition deteriorated on her third hospital visit, the need for intervention became undeniable. She was moved to intensive care, but it was too late. Medical staff reported that her blood pressure plummeted, her skin was “blue and dusky,” and her organs began to fail. At age 18, Crain died, and left her family devastated and her mother questioning why her daughter’s suffering was not seen as an emergency.

Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton has said that the state’s abortion ban supersedes federal guidelines, which mandate emergency rooms to provide care for any patient in life-threatening conditions, including those whose treatment may involve abortion. The state argues that exceptions should only apply if a pregnancy poses an imminent risk of death—a threshold so narrow that many doctors hesitate to act, fearing prosecution.

Dr. Dara Kass, an emergency physician in New York, criticized the approach taken by hospitals in such states, noting that complex restrictions and fears of legal action lead doctors to delay critical care, sometimes pushing patients “down the path of no return”. Kass describes Crain’s case as a stark warning of the fatal consequences of abortion bans, where life-threatening conditions are mismanaged as doctors navigate legal uncertainties.

For Crain’s family, the aftermath is a fight for accountability. After her daughter’s death, Fails sought legal recourse, but Texas law complicates malpractice cases for patients treated in emergency rooms. Lawyers informed her that for a case to proceed, she would need to prove “willful and wanton negligence”—a high bar that no attorney has yet agreed to pursue.

Crain’s death is not an isolated incident. Texas’s strict abortion law, combined with the court rulings favoring its enforcement, continues to put women at risk. The tragic irony is that Crain and her family believed in carrying the pregnancy to term. As her mother explained, “We didn’t care about abortion; we cared about our daughter’s life.”

At the heart of Crain’s story lies a disturbing question. How many women must suffer and die before laws change to prioritize the health and safety of pregnant women over political agendas? For Crain’s family and the countless others affected by these laws, the answer may not come soon enough.