I sat in the Hart Building, Room 216, attending the Alito hearings for two days. I have never been in a room with so many powerful people.

But my feeling of reverence is tinged with enormous sadness. Through the years of the Bush presidency, I have developed a case of political vertigo. The America that my grandparents fled to because of its guarantees of freedom of speech, opportunity and religion seems dangerously out of focus.

My own life and life's work have brought an intimate understanding of how essential it is for women to control their reproductive choices. And, on this day after the 32nd anniversary of Roe, I see shocking misunderstanding and misinformation about the conflicts, complexities, frailties and realities of sexual expression in the real world and the necessity of laws that take this into account.

Women who find themselves with an unwanted pregnancy usually yearn to confide in their partners. But there are men who will never understand a wife or partner's need for an abortion. The response to legal demands for this sharing may lead to severe physical and emotional abuse, even death.

Opposition to abortion rights also reveals dangerous blind spots about the nature of sexual expression, and the unsettling reality that sex frequently has absolutely nothing to do with love. Very often, married women are forced to have sex exactly the way their husbands demand it, fearing the repercussions of saying no. And all too often, sex is about only two things: control and power, an outlet for anger and used as a weapon.

There are many reasons abused women, though they have the right to divorce, are not economically or emotionally prepared to do so. Not the least of these is a spouse's vehement threat that leaving will mean never again seeing or caring for your children.

During an adjournment, my thoughts shifted to the late 1960s, pre-Roe, my living room: a group of women working to legalize abortion had gathered to speak to two surgeons who risked arrest by performing them in safe hospital settings. We were warned by one, his voice rising with emotion:

"Do not ever speak of abortion glibly or nonchalantly. It is always horrible, always. Yet, for the health of a woman, of her family, for her future well-being, it is a necessary option." Added the other, "If abortion is not legalized, the back-alley butchers and the self-administered drugs and coat-hanger attempts will continue to maim and kill."

I remember silently equating abortion with divorce, especially if there were children. In both, a marvel, a wonder, a longing is irreparably ripped away. Since that evening of almost 40 years ago, life has taught me that the wisest direction for growth and survival is ever-complicated and often stony. Yet, despite the pain and loss of certain necessary decisions, without the opportunity to make them, hope and fulfillment will die.

Back in my seat a few moments before the hearings resume, my grandmother seems to be with me once again. This time she is imploring me not to give up hope that women will be protected in her beloved "New Country." And now in the three seats next to her I picture my young granddaughters - right there in Hart 216, there in the room with so many with so much power over all of our futures - and she is reminding them also of the promise that, despite everything, remains America.