The Supreme Court ruling on McCullen v. Coakley, which addresses the 35-foot buffer zone around abortion clinics in Massachusetts, is expected in June. Eleanor McCullen says the 2007 law limits her ability to counsel women seeking abortions. She claims this is a First Amendment free-speech issue, but Martha Coakley, Massachusetts's attorney general, insists that the zone is necessary to protect women from harassment and violence that has been displayed by protesters in the past. Colorado and Massachusetts currently have such laws, and New Hampshire is considering one. But what is it actually like to encounter these protesters outside a clinic? Six women shared their stories with Cosmo.

Brittany, 28, Colorado

I was 21 when a routine physical showed that I was pregnant. I fainted when I found out. I was on the Depo-Provera shot and in a committed relationship. I was also going to college, working full time, and decided to end the pregnancy. I wasn't ready physically, emotionally or financially to be a parent. I spoke to a woman at the clinic who asked if I needed an escort from my car on the day of my appointment. My aunt and best friend were accompanying me, so I said no. But then she told me to call if I was having trouble. I asked, "Why?" She paused and said, "Just please call if you are having any issues."

I was the first appointment that day and noticed a few men, all in their 50s or 60s, milling around the parking lot when we pulled in. Once we got out of the car, one made a beeline for us with a fistful of pamphlets. My aunt said, "Thanks, but no thanks," and he got irate, screaming, "How can you do this? You're killing your baby to continue on your whore lifestyle, you jezebel!' Suddenly we were surrounded by five other men — that's when the baby-doll parts starting hitting us.

They had a box filled with torn apart baby dolls covered with red paint. All three of us were hit — in the head, chest, torso. As they were pelting us, they yelled, "This is what you're doing to your baby! Look at the street! It's strewn with the blood of your baby. That's your baby scattered across the street!" It was surreal and terrifying at once. And we still had to cross a wide street to enter the clinic. Then they shouted at my aunt, "Grandma, why are you letting her do this? Tell her to give her baby up for adoption!" My aunt responded, "First of all, I'm not old enough to be a grandma. Second, come talk to me when you have a uterus and a vagina."

I thought I'd feel better once inside the clinic. But as I sat in the waiting area, I could hear every single girl get out of her car and do that walk of shame. That was the worst part of the day. When the doctor pulled up later that morning, there was such a frenzy the building almost shook. I heard them shouting, "Murderer!" and, "Butcher!" and my heart started racing all over again.

I was the first to see the doctor. After he went over the procedure with me, he asked, "Do you have any questions?" I said, "Are they going to be there when I leave? — not, "Is there any pain?" or, "How long will it take to recover?" He said, "No. After I arrive, they disperse." That was true, and I was grateful. I would have stayed until they left. I couldn't go through that again.

But there was one good thing the protesters did that morning: They convinced me I was making the right decision. I bet every single woman inside that waiting room felt the same way, even though none of us spoke. We'd all just been through the most heinous experience, but there was a feeling of quiet satisfaction among this group of women amidst the horror. I thought, "If I can make it through that, I can make it through the rest of this day."

Marie, 27, Maine

I was on a bus on my way to my Planned Parenthood appointment when I texted my friend, "I hope there are protesters outside so I know it's the right building." I was joking! I never thought I'd see any and so was absolutely shocked to find a dozen split in two groups, lining the entrance to the clinic. They were waving posters and yelling, and for a moment, I even considered skipping my appointment. I was worried about my safety — I've heard about the crazy things these people do. The irony is that I was going to get birth control pills to prevent having to make the choice about an abortion in the first place.

As I started to walk towards the clinic, one woman followed me all the way to the door, saying, "Have mercy on your baby!" My heart was racing — I was actually scared, but then I saw two women flanking the door, wearing pink vests. One smiled at me, and I kept my eyes locked on her until I finally made it inside. The first thing I asked was, "How do I become one of the women in the pink vest?" I wanted to channel my rage into something positive. That's how I became a greeter. I now wear a pink vest and do my best to lock eyes with other women walking through that terrifying corridor. Ignoring them is the best defense. Their anger says way more about them than the women they're harassing.

Ronak, 30, Massachusetts

I was diagnosed with PTSD a year after my abortion. Images of that day are still engrained in my head. I was 19, so this was before the buffer zone law passed in 2007, and I went to a clinic in Brookline notorious for protesters. The day I went in, they were in front of the door. My then-boyfriend had to use his elbows to get us to the door. There was one particularly eerie, expressionless protester wearing aviator glasses and holding a sign of a baby in utero on a black background. It gave me a bad feeling in my stomach and still haunts me. That's the image I strongly associate with that day. It embodied all the fears and judgment I felt from society.

I had a hard time making the decision to have an abortion. I never thought it was wrong. I just wasn't positive it was the right for me. But none of the protesters asked me about my decision — and nothing they said that day made me not want to go through with it. Instead, all they represented was hatred and negative energy around abortion in the United States. They claimed to care about human beings, but they left no space for understanding or compassion. I believe that everyone has the right to share his or her views. I also think it can be done it in a respectful and empathetic way.

Heather, 24, Arizona

I was 22, and less than eight weeks pregnant, so I opted for a medical abortion. I just wanted to take a pill and have the whole thing be over as quickly as possible. It's state law to go in for a consultation 24 hours before an abortion. That was the first time I encountered protesters. I had to drive past them in order to get into the parking lot. That they wanted any say in what is such a personal decision felt so wrong to me. It made me feel sick. They were there again the next day. So I had to drive past them four times.

Getting an abortion was already the hardest day of my life. To have these people who don't know the first thing about me or why I was even there apply such impersonal hatred and judgment on me was infuriating. If they wanted to make an impact, why not just talk to women about what they are actually going through? Holding up signs of dead babies is not going to get your point across.

I was by myself both days — the guy that got me pregnant said he would be supportive of any choice I made and then never spoke another word to me after I told him I was going to have an abortion. So I went alone. As I left the clinic for the last time, I wanted to say something so badly. I wanted to defend myself. But there were 10 of them, and only one of me. It was already a hard day, so I decided not to make it harder for myself. Besides, I had to go home and take the medicine.

Natalia, 27, Wisconsin

I had my abortion nearly 10 years ago. There were no protesters back then. But I have since returned to the same Planned Parenthood many times for checkups and birth control, and as an intern. Now protesters are there daily. They often beg me not to have an abortion — they say they love me. But I wonder, "Then how come you don't recognize that I come here all the time?" Once, they begged my sister, who was then eight months pregnant, to not go through with an abortion. She wasn't planning to! That's the irony: three percent of Planned Parenthood's services are abortion-related, 97 percent is other health care, like pap smears, STD testing and breast exams. A woman may even be going to get education or services to help raise her children.

Their approach is so misguided. It can also be hypocritical. We have hot summers in Milwaukee, and the clinic is in a desolate place. There's no shade, and no public restrooms — and yet there is one protester who brings her five kids. They sit in the hot sun for eight hours. I feel so terrible for them! And yet she's trying to coerce women into becoming parents. It's so sad. Still, I have sympathy for her. I politically identify as pro-choice, but I believe in the pro-voice model, which allows for different opinions on these issues. If she ever gave me a chance to talk to her rather than just barking at me every time I enter the clinic, I'd want to know her story and why she is so committed to this kind of work. I'd try to figure it out instead of just getting mad.

Bre, 26, Maine

I used to work at a call center, which happened to be in the same building as the Planned Parenthood, where I'm also a patient. There are always protesters outside, including an older man who has these grotesque decoupage collage signs of mutilated fetuses. He makes snide comments like, "Murderer" or, "How could you do this to your child?" to any woman of childbearing years who entered the building. At first, I said, "Most of the people coming to this building are not coming for abortions." And he said that we were all passively supporting abortions by working in the same building as the clinic. He was that unhinged. After several weeks of this, I finally got so irritated that I went back to my car, found a piece of paper and wrote, "Ignore this asshole, ladies. You are beautiful."

Then I marched back and stood right next to him with my sign. I wanted to give women a different point of view. A lot of people gave me high-fives and hugs. A few said, "Thank you! Someone needed to tell that guy to shut up!" He just snorted at me as I stood next to him, holding my sign. I said, "You get to say what you want to say. I do too."

Share this story and your thoughts on this issue using the hashtag #ProtectTheZone.

Related:

A Male Escort's Perspective: What It's Really Like Outside an Abortion Clinic

Why Protest-Free Zones Around Abortion Clinics Are Essentials

Your Unobstructed Access to Abortion Clinics Is at Stake

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Liz Welch Liz Welch's writing has also appeared in Real Simple, Glamour, and the New York Times Magazine.

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