ORANGE, Va. (news agencies) — On the wall of the maternity home, painted in large letters, is the motto: “Saving Babies, One Mom at a Time.”
For founders Randy and Evelyn James, the home started with one baby — their own.
Paul Stefan was the last of their six children, born with a fatal condition. They had chosen not to abort the pregnancy as doctors advised. He lived just over 40 minutes, long enough to be baptized and named after their Catholic priest.
In the nearly two decades since, the Jameses have channeled their son’s memory and their anti-abortion beliefs into running maternity homes. “We knew that we were going to do something for women in crisis pregnancies,” Evelyn James said.
In August, their Paul Stefan Foundation plans to open a new floor with seven more rooms at their headquarters in a grand former hotel in Orange, Virginia.
Their momentum is part of a larger trend: There has been a nationwide expansion of maternity homes in the two years since the Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade and the federal right to abortion.
“It’s been a significant increase,” said Valerie Harkins, director of the Maternity Housing Coalition, a nonprofit anti-abortion network of 195 maternity homes that has grown 23% since the court’s ruling.
There are now more than 450 maternity homes in the U.S., according to Harkins; many of them are faith-based. As abortion restrictions increase, anti-abortion advocates want to open more of these transitional housing facilities, which often have long waitlists. It’s part of what they see as the next step in preventing abortions and providing long-term support for low-income pregnant women and mothers.
“This is what supports the women in following through on their yes to carry that pregnancy to term,” Harkins said. “Whether that’s a yes that they chose or maybe they felt like they didn’t have a choice.”
The reasons for the surge in interest in maternity homes are complex and go beyond narrowing abortion access. Harkins said unaffordable housing, paychecks cut by inflation and higher birthrates in some states have all contributed.
“It created a perfect storm,” she said. “There’s quite a need.”
The heyday of American maternity homes came during the three decades before Roe v. Wade. In what became known as the “Baby Scoop Era,” more than 1.5 million infants were surrendered for adoption. Many unwed pregnant women and girls were sent to live in maternity homes, where they were often coerced into relinquishing their babies.
“Our children were stolen,” said Karen Wilson-Buterbaugh. She was 17 in 1966 when her parents sent her to a Washington, D.C., home run by Florence Crittenton, a large chain of maternity homes started by Progressive-era Episcopal reformers.
Back then, maternity homes were secretive places, meant to hide pregnancies. Residents often used aliases. Some wore fake wedding rings in public. When they returned to their hometowns after birth and without a baby, they were supposed to pretend as if nothing happened.
But few could forget.
“It’s a mother losing her child,” said Ann Fessler, who collected oral histories from Baby Scoop Era mothers in her book, “The Girls Who Went Away.”
Fessler, herself an adoptee, said, “The women, especially the ones that did not feel like they had a part in the decision, live with this trauma the rest of their lives.”
Harkins said the Maternity Housing Coalition takes ownership of this history. It’s often discussed among members and at conferences.
“It is very dear to our hearts,” Harkins said. “We are very intentional about what happened and want to ensure we don’t get to that point again.”
The number of domestic infant adoptions has fallen sharply since the 1970s. When denied an abortion, women in one study overwhelmingly chose parenthood (91%) over adoption (9%), according to a 2016 analysis from researchers at the University of California San Francisco.