I Loved Her and I Lost Her

Trigger Warning: Abortion 


I write this with a great deal of sadness in my heart, and an equal amount of love.

I have lost a child.

The grief in my soul, my womb, my heart, is beyond words.

For 10 years not once have I allowed myself to say to anyone that I have lost a child..because I chose to terminate my unborn baby. And because that’s what I chose I have always believed that it would be unfair of me to say that I lost her.

But I did.

I loved her. And I lost her.

Today I share my story with you, as part of my grieving process. For today I realise I am allowed to grieve for such loss, I offer myself the space to grieve for the energy that lived inside of me, energy that was removed from me, leaving a gaping raw wound.

A void I never believed could be filled.

Today I have decided to allow the grief to consume me…I will respond to every ounce of loss and pain with my unconditional love, I will transmute this suffering in to joy. This is how I will put myself back together. This is how I will fill the void.

I loved her. And I lost her.

As a young woman living in today’s patriarchal society there is a huge stigma around abortion, a dark shadow looms around it, a disease without a cure.

Fuck that.

No one will ever understand how it feels to be put in such a position, apart from the woman who is experiencing it in that very moment.

Women are Love, we are the Goddesses of Eternal and Unconditional Love. We are the Givers of Life..so why are we made to feel as though we shouldn’t be allowed to choose? As though that choice belongs to someone else?


tell me why I don’t deserve to decide whether or not I am ready to give my unborn baby life?

I loved her. And I lost her.

There are many reasons why a woman would choose not to bring a child into this world..and they are mostly always selfless.

The moment you find out you are with child, you are a Mother.

As a Mother, society expects you to put your child before oneself. And of course naturally, we do. We do this because as women we are nurturers, lovers, we are designed to Love unconditionally, whole heartedly.

And that, we do.

Please then,

tell me why then is it any different if our child is still in the womb? Isn’t it my right as a woman and a mother to make decisions around what’s best for my child, and what’s best for myself, as that child’s Mother?

Regardless of how “old” my child is?

I loved her. And I lost her.

I have spent the last 10 years of my life in pain, pain that exists in the very depths of my being, surfacing every now and then to remind me how deeply the loss of my child has hurt me. I have experienced the most debilitating feelings of guilt, loss, grief, and trauma.

During this time, I have been drowning in the idea that:

“I don’t DESERVE to feel any of these emotions because I CHOSE to terminate my baby.

And because that’s what I CHOSE, then this pain is surely what I DESERVE.”

The very thought has been so damaging to my soul…my heart, my entire being. Only today have I realised that this line of thought is so far from the truth. I carried that child for a reason, she taught me the power of love. She taught me the power of being a woman. She taught me about the power of my womb.

I loved her. And I lost her.

In this moment of clarity and presence, I gift my baby’s energy back to the Universe, the Great Mother accepts her blessed spirit with open arms, and I am free.

I can feel my daughter beside me, urging me to let go of the attachment to the pain that has kept me suffering. Fearful of who I might be without this womb full of grief.

She holds my hand and whispers that she is right here with me. That she loves me. She tells me that I am not alone. Because she feels my sadness, and she loves me unconditionally. She’s tells me that she too is a strong woman, just like her mother..

I lost her. And I will always love her.



In Defence of the Anorexic

Trigger warning: Disordered Eating


Chris Kraus says that the systematic refusal to nourish one’s body is the systematic refusal to consume the cynicism of the world. It is is the rejection of society and its perpetuating desire to degrade the soul. She argues that it is neither the plight of beauty nor the glorification of thinness, but instead the intensely visible pursuit of disappearing completely. A disappearance that is quick to be judged and painstakingly slow to be understood.

And how can it ever be understood when the satiated viewer exonerates their own role in it? Like mass incarceration, depression, and poverty, anorexia is the byproduct of a broken society and not the existence of an inherently defective psyche.

For how can one possibly consume food when it has violated the land, exploited the workers, appeased the capitalists, and poisoned the impoverished? They cannot. And they shall not. They would rather starve.

Is not then the anorexic the more moral of us all? Have they then not opened their eyes long enough to realise that a muffin is not a muffin, but a symbol of cheap labour, greedy politics, and ever swelling class inequality? The muffin that is made from bleached flour, caged eggs, dirty dairy, and colonised spices. That is used to satiate the hungry masses whilst simultaneously conspiring to sicken them.

Is not the muffin then the ultimate lack of transparency? Is it not everything that happens behind closed doors? That estranges humankind from the seasons, the soil, and the scarcity that has kept our greed in check since the dawn of time?

To perceive food as merely sustenance is one of the greatest of the ignorant privileges. In every part of the world a person’s relationship to food is defined by class and those whom society values, they feed well. The excesses of the industrialised world can be coolly compared to the acute sufferings of the developing nations. The nations that are kept systemically impoverished so that we may enjoy our satisfactorily priced coffee whilst lining the pockets of faces that look just like ours. Our heralded entrepreneurs, our modern day explorers.

And then we must ask ourselves, why is the anorexic disproportionately a woman? Why is she predominantly middle-class? And why has she decided to participate in self-inflicted starvation despite her well-acknowledged lifestyle of extreme excess? Surely, she of all people is the last to hold the torch of puritan moral strength, the last to envision herself as some sort of new age saviour intent of purging the sins of us all. Yet the anorexic is female, she is prolific, and she is starving.

While Mother Earth perishes at the hands of unbridled greed, her daughters perish alongside her. And yet like abortion and other female “trivialities” we don’t talk or collectively grieve about, the anorexic must suffer alone because it is her “choice” whether she eats or not. Coming from the mouth of a woman who once nearly disappeared completely, I can assure you that the meticulous purification of the body is anything but a choice. It is the unconscious resistance of conforming to a vast social madness. It is the denial of fertility in a dying world, the wielding of influence in a world dominated by a broken conception of masculine power, the emancipation from capitalist excess that feeds like a parasite on the exploitation of those weaker than itself, and the morbid rejection of a hyper-sexualised ideal of female sexuality that glorifies the under-nourished and over-disciplined body. It is the choice to die at one’s own hands rather than be killed by the hands of another.

In a world that seeks to strip every inch of power from those that cannot or will not prescribe to its sickness, the anorexic fights back. In refusing to let the sanctioned authority govern her, she governs it. She starves not just for herself, but for every natural and human resource that is exploited for her benefit. She starves so that one day we might ask not what is wrong with her, but what is wrong with ourselves.