I just wanted to grieve. Indiana forced me to document my trauma for the state.

Editor's Note: Amber Dowd testified against SB 236 on Wednesday, 1/21/26 in the Senate Judiciary Committee. SB 236 would ban the possession, distribution, and mailing of abortion pills, and allow private citizens to sue people or organizations they believe have violated the ban, potentially collecting on a $100,000 bounty. The bill also requires Terminated Pregnancy Reports (TPRs) to be shared with the Inspector General of Indiana. Dozens of individuals, including physicians and patients, decried the bill’s chilling impact on healthcare accessibility, emergency care, and the OBGYN shortage, as well as privacy concerns surrounding the reporting of Terminated Pregnancy Reports. Here are Amber's complete prepared remarks:

Chairperson and Members of the Committee,

Thank you for allowing me to speak today. My name is Amber Dowd. I am an Indiana resident, a wife, a mother, a best friend, a sister, and a business owner, and I am here today because of my son, Arlo.

On February 4th of last year, we lost him. I was 21 weeks pregnant. 

I want to be very clear from the beginning: I did not come here to debate politics. I am here to talk about the human impact of this bill, and specifically the portion regarding Terminated Pregnancy Reporting, and how it affects families like mine in ways I never could have imagined.

My pregnancy was very much wanted.

Halfway through my pregnancy, our world changed. After extensive testing, consultations, and multiple specialist reviews across two hospital systems and six physicians, we were given devastating news.

Our son had Hydranencephaly and Klinefelter syndrome.

He had:

• No functioning brain

• Only a partial spine

• No ability to breathe independently

• No neurological capacity to survive

• No possibility of consciousness or quality of life

We were told—repeatedly and clearly—that he would not survive pregnancy, delivery, or life outside the womb. If he did make it to delivery, he would suffocate. He would suffer. And there was nothing anyone could do to prevent it.

The only thing keeping him alive was my body.

And I want to say something very important here:

A heartbeat alone does not make a person. A brain, lungs, and a nervous system are required for life.

This was not a decision we made lightly. It was not quick. It was not emotional or impulsive. It was medical. It was compassion for our son. A parent's love and protection. And it was devastating. 

“John 13:34 Love one another as I have loved you.” 

Now I want to talk about SB236 and why I am here today.

Under this bill, my personal medical information — including the details of my pregnancy loss — would be reported to the state in a way that makes it accessible through public records requests.

That means:

• My County of residence, education (not enough boxes), religion, and my marital status

• My diagnosis

• My medical decisions

• My trauma

Could be obtained by anyone through a FOIA request. 

That includes:

• Political organizations

• Advocacy groups

• Employers and employees 

• The Attorney General’s office

• People who do not know me, but wish to judge or target me/family 

This is not hypothetical. It happened to me – to us. 

I own a business. I employ people. In fact, my business employed over 200 people in 2025. I live in my community. Volunteer for Fathers and Families and mentor through jail programs and outreach. I coached my son's baseball team. I am a football mom. 

My private information became public in 2025:

• We were harassed: Fake Social Media Profiles, comments

• My family was targeted

• My professional reputation was attacked 

• My husband lost his job 

• Knowing that at any time I could be investigated or accused of wrongdoing for a decision made in consultation with licensed physicians is trauma in itself. 

If this passes in 2026, will we be subjected again? 

I should not have to fear prosecution or public shaming for following medical advice in a situation where my child could not survive.

And I want to be very clear about something else:

This law does not protect families or mothers. It punishes them.

It retraumatizes parents who are already living with unimaginable loss.

It tells women that even in the worst moments of their lives, their privacy does not matter.

It tells grieving families that their pain is subject to public and political review.

And it places doctors in fear of legal consequences for practicing medicine with honesty and compassion.

No parent should have to worry that burying their child will also mean defending themselves to the state.

No family should have to fear becoming a public example simply because their tragedy fits into a political framework.

I am standing here today not because I want special treatment.

I am standing here because what happened to me can happen to anyone.

I am someone’s mom, sister, best friend, wife, and daughter. 

Pregnancy loss does not discriminate. Genetic abnormalities do not care about politics. Medical tragedy does not wait for legislation.

And when it happens, families deserve privacy, dignity, and compassion.

And please, do not turn grief into a matter of public record.

My experience continued with paperwork.

I was asked to provide details about my pregnancy loss — details that forced me to relive the worst moments of my life in writing.

Dates.

Medical determinations.

Clinical explanations of why my child could not live.

There was no warning about how that information could later be used. No protection was explained. No acknowledgment that this information could one day be requested, reviewed, or weaponized. 

At a moment when I should have been allowed to grieve, I was required to document my trauma for the state.

The trauma did not end with my diagnosis. It did not end with delivery. It did not end when I left the hospital without my son.

While I was still bleeding. I was afraid for my family and our safety. While my body was still recovering. I was in fear for my family and our future. While I was trying to breathe through grief that felt unbearable. I was in fear for my rights. 

That is not compassionate care.

That is not healing.

And under SB236, this reporting becomes something far more dangerous.

Because now, that information — the most painful experience of my life — can be accessed through public records requests.

That means my loss can be scrutinized. My medical decisions are questioned. My integrity is challenged.

It means that advocacy groups, political actors, or even the Attorney General could review my case and decide, after the fact, whether I made the “right” choice — despite six physicians confirming that my child could not survive.

That is not oversight. That is surveillance.

And it places families like mine in an impossible position: Grieve privately, or risk public exposure.

No parent should ever have to choose between medical care and personal safety.

I want to share something else with you today — something deeply personal and very real.

I am currently 12 weeks pregnant.

And on Thursday, I will be walking into a Maternal Fetal Medicine appointment.

This should be a moment filled with hope. But instead, it is filled with fear.

Not just the fear every parent feels when waiting for test results — but the fear created by this law.

I am terrified of having to relive what I went through before. I am terrified of what will happen if something is wrong again. I am terrified of what information I will be forced to provide, who will have access to it, and whether I will once again have to defend a medical tragedy to the state.

Will I be allowed the proper medication or healthcare?

I am standing here today wondering: If something goes wrong again… will I have to suffer through all of this a second time?

Will my private medical records once again become public? Will my grief once again be turned into a report? Will I once again have to fear investigation while trying to survive loss?

No parent should walk into a prenatal appointment with that fear. No mother should be thinking about public records or prosecution while praying to hear a heartbeat.

And yet, under SB236 as written, that is exactly what this law creates.