The Abortion and Cervical Mucus song

I used to work at the Elizabeth Garrett Anderson Hospital, in Euston. You know, the place Tracey Emin had her missed abortion. I also used to work at Marie Stopes, you know, the private women’s clinic, the place where, for example, women travel to from all over the world to have an abortion because where they live abortion is illegal or they know they are having a girl and they need a boy or, etc etc. I’m writing much more about this in my book. However, in the here and now …

AMERICA! What on earth is going on now? Bodily autonomy going out of the window, yet again. Why can’t we choose? Every BODY is unique. Every circumstance is unique.

Abortion sucks (excuse the pun). I’ve seen many. Part of our training was to sit in on operations and speak with women before and after. I have no judgment. It’s no fun understanding the physical and mental trauma of a two-stage operation at 23 weeks. And yes, it does beg the question where does life begin? Does it begin in the sperm or the cervical mucus that carries it along? The subject has always been a fucking minefield where everyone has a different opinion and their own goal posts.

Despite all my misadventures as a girl and woman, I never needed an abortion. But I experienced three miscarriages where I had vacuum aspirations in hospital. Grim. It’s all grim. Noone enjoys any of it.

Below is a poem I wrote for my first collection and a picture of what cervical mucus looks like when women are in their most fertile time.

Our mentally ill world gets crazier.

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