Fuck June.
Fuck loss.
Fuck innocence.
Fuck memories of a life when I was blissfully expecting the loss I had no way of expecting.
Fuck.
Fuck loss.
Fuck death.
Fuck nature.
(Honestly, really fuck nature, because nature isn’t the loving creature we make her out to be. Nature killed my child).
And consequently: Fuck midwives who emphasize nature over everything, while minimizing the very real risks of pregnancy and childbirth.
…Fuck the very real risks of pregnancy and childbirth.
Fuck “well I did it and I was fine.”
(I drove home after drinking once. That doesn’t mean it was a good idea).
Fuck parenting groups and anecdotal evidence, and “your body was made to do these things.”
My body was made to kill my children. That’s something I will never celebrate.
But mostly, Fuck June.
(And preemptively Fuck anyone who wants to tell me to stop saying ‘Fuck’).
My child died. That’s a big Fucking deal.
Fuck.
Related Posts:
Miranda’s Blog: A letter to the midwife who told me we were “fine”
Miranda’s Blog: 1 June 2020
Miranda’s Blog: When I was overdue, this is what I wish I knew
Miranda’s Blog: There’s an Elephant in the Exam Room
