EOn the morning in June 2022, eight patients sat in the waiting room of the Little Rock Family Planning Services clinic that Roe v Wade died. Until then, the clinic was the only place where women in Arkansas, a deep-red state, could undergo surgical abortions.
Natalie Tvedten, who helped start the clinic and counseled patients, remembers huddled in a back room with a visiting doctor from Los Angeles after they heard the news.
Normally, patients would undergo a two-day procedure. But the doctor working that day called to say they couldn’t do cancellations. He was beside himself, Tvedten said.
“He broke down. I’m talking broke downshe said. “We withdrew the patients and began explaining to them that it was no longer legal to give them abortions in Arkansas and that we would find care for them elsewhere.” Their best options were to travel to Kansas, New Mexico or Illinois.
The Guardian on Tuesday published an investigation into how right-wing forces successfully blocked a ballot measure that would have reversed Arkansas’ abortion ban that was ushered in by the demise of Roe. In addition to that story, we’re also publishing this story about Little Rock Family Planning Services, and accounts from women served there.
Tvedten never spoke about that day, but agreed to share her memories with the Guardian. She was at times overcome with emotion as she described how the events unfolded, and how it abruptly ended the work she said the clinic had done for decades to empower women to make their own reproductive choices.
“It was a terrible day. I’m still not over it. Many of these women have husbands or partners who simply do not support them. For some of these women, it is the first time they have been recognized as existing,” she said.
Three patients didn’t want to leave, she said. Some had already traveled from out of state, including Texas, Florida and Tennessee. There were sixteen others on their way in. Some begged, she said, for doctors to perform the abortions anyway. The staff explained that they could not break the law. “A lot of women said, ‘I’m going to make this happen,’” Tvedten said.
Karen Musick, an escort who worked at the clinic and helped women walk through the crowd of ever-present protesters outside the doors, said a protester with a megaphone began to loudly recite the Supreme Court ruling — known as the Dobbs decision. read.
Dobbs led to a total abortion ban in Arkansas. It was shocking but not surprising. A draft of the ruling had already been leaked to the media, and clinic staff sprang into action in anticipation of the decision, trying to treat as many women as possible.
“We were on a marathon and we were going to try to do 200 abortions by the end of June,” Tvedten said.
The clinic still exists, but the protesters have left. Now it no longer offers abortions. But the revamped facility, called the You Center, will provide women with resources when they need abortions: including sharing a phone number they can call to have abortion medications shipped from out-of-state providers and helping them find financial support to leave the situation. stands for the procedure. Recently, two 13-year-old girls came to the clinic for help and were able to leave the state for their abortion.
Musick – the former abortion escort – is now co-founder of the Arkansas Abortion Support Networkwho manages the You Center. On its website, the AASN offers practical advice, including how website visitors can clear their browsing and search history.
“Most people in Arkansas go to Illinois and a lot of them go to Kansas. We want people to receive care where they like it most,” Musick said.
Now the clinic is facing a new problem, and it’s one that has affected similar centers in red states where abortions are banned: It’s running out of money.
Initially, the AASN benefited from what Musick calls “anger giving.” When the Dobbs draft was leaked, the organization raised $100,000 – more than ever before. When the opinion officially came out, it raised another $100,000, and by the end of the year it had raised $780,000. In 2023, that figure dropped sharply to just under $400,000.
The AASN pays for the care of out-of-state patients – sometimes up to 70% or the full cost, if necessary. Staff salaries must also be paid.
But the need for spending has continued to increase and donations have not kept up. Musick said her group mostly receives smaller donations from individuals — the average is $18 — but large donations are starting to dry up nationally.
“I think a lot of major donors thought we would be a lot closer to the norm now, but that’s not the case. I think most people understand that sending people from South Texas to Colorado is not sustainable, but they didn’t see or understand how deeply ingrained abortion is in politics,” Musick said.
Among the remains of the abortion clinic is a diary that used to be kept in the waiting room. It was a place where patients could tell their stories and read those of others. Sometimes women left encouraging notes for each other.
Now it reads like notes from a bygone era. The Guardian read dozens of journal entries from former clinic staff, who redacted all identifying details. The stories differ dramatically: women sharing painful stories of abusive boyfriends and husbands; others who said they could not take on the responsibility and financial burden of a child; those who said they were just getting their lives in order or going to school; and some were devastated after receiving the news that their pregnancy was not viable due to fetal abnormalities.
The women are now united by one fact: No one could have had an abortion in Arkansas today.
“I just had a baby a few months ago after missing birth control. The pregnancy was a nightmare. It was honestly even worse than I expected. I have never been so mentally and physically ruined. I do this for different reasons, but your reason is just as important!” wrote one woman.
Another said: “I’m 18 and today 13 weeks and 2 days. For fear of not being the person I want to be. I give my baby to the Lord. Knowing you don’t have the right parents can affect you forever. I think it’s only fair to you to give you life and love one day, but now is not the time. I gotta learn to love myself first so I don’t mess it up with you, honey.
Another wrote, “I was always against abortions, but until you sit in that chair, just do what’s best for your life. I’m still learning how to be a mother to my three-year-old.”