Emily’s Story

WHARR
WHARR
Jul 20, 2017 · 3 min read

Scared and alone, I was sitting in the public phone booth on the first floor of my sophomore dorm at college, looking through the yellow pages for abortion clinics. It was 1982, and there were no cell phones yet, no google, and not many clinics where I was in upstate New York. The phone booth was a dark cubicle made of wood, with a heavy wooden door that closed for privacy. When I finally found the one clinic within a reasonable distance from campus, the woman who answered the phone told me they didn’t have any appointments available for several weeks. I told her that I needed to come in right away because it was already late in the first trimester.

As a young college student with dreams of a degree and career ahead of me, I had tried to deny the pregnancy away until it was no longer possible to do that. I was throwing up in the morning and repulsed by alcohol at night. I got up the nerve to go to the university clinic for a pregnancy test. That’s when I called the abortion clinic. After hearing my panicked plea, the woman on the phone nastily replied, “Well maybe you shouldn’t have waited so long!”

I hung up, and sobbed.

Emily, one of the Women of WHARR

I decided I had to call my mother, and shortly thereafter, my boyfriend and I decided we would drive in his van down to New York City, where she would get us into a Planned Parenthood clinic right away. I couldn’t face the prospect of more thumbing through the yellow pages or more shaming comments from clinic employees. Driving nine hours while nauseous was preferable. My mom would take care of me.

I had my abortion at a NYC Planned Parenthood clinic, and was so grateful for the professional, matter-of-fact way it was handled beforehand, and the care and compassion I received afterwards. It was an emotional and confusing experience, but at least I had the support and resources I needed.

To this day, I’m not sure what I would have done if I didn’t have a supportive boyfriend and mother, or access, albeit nine hours away, to the Planned Parenthood clinic in New York City.

What’s happening now, in 2017, scares me even more, because I can’t imagine going back to a time when support for reproductive freedom and abortion access is limited, like it was when I was 18 — or disappears completely. I fear for my daughters, for all of our daughters, but especially for women who will be most impacted by the stripping away of affordable healthcare and accessible birth control and abortion.

That’s why I’m with WHARR.

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