Alabama’s ban on IVF left women out in the cold. In South Carolina, it’s a familiar tale

An Alabama court’s ruling this week putting the future of in vitro fertilization (IVF) at risk for thousands of families across the state hit the national discourse on abortion like a brick through its window.

Republican politicians scrambled to defend themselves, even as it was clear that the conservative fantasy of ending the protections of Roe vs Wade had been the direct impetus for the ruling. GOP figureheads from Speaker Mike Johnson to presidential candidates Donald Trump and Nikki Haley fell over themselves to come out in favour of IVF protections (thanks in no small part due to the comparatively wealthy status of families with financial access to IVF).

“Government doesn’t need to get into something this sensitive. This should be between the doctor and the parents. Period,” said Nikki Haley on Saturday, providing a quote that could have been copy-and-pasted from a pro-choice group after Roe’s demise.

But if the IVF ruling hit the political discourse like a brick, then its effects on the actual lives of Alabama’s families was more akin to a bomb going off. Already stories are trickling out from women who were days or even moments away from various stages of IVF treatment, only to be left high-and-dry by a court ruling that in some cases could leave them on the hook for thousands of dollars in money that is now essentially flushed down the drain.

“Now, even if I wanted to get them out of the state and do a transfer in another state or where my surrogate lives, I can’t,” one woman told NBC News. “I’m just kind of stuck until something changes down here, which – who knows how long that’s going to take?”

It’s a reminder that these court decisions have real effects on real lives. Banning a medical practice doesn’t just