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The Crepening
Crepe myrtles are trees that flower in late summer. Sorry if you already know that. I don’t like to assume people don’t know things, but if you don’t and I don’t say, then this story won’t make much sense. Besides, it’s a huge understatement. Saying crepe myrtles are trees that flower is like saying cats
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PTSD
It isn’t over. I typed those words at the end of the long essay I wrote about my first two miscarriages, Expecting, the one thing I have written that drew some real attention. I know a few long term readers found me then. I remember a few comments about they would stick around to find…
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Sweet Potato: Giving Birth After Multiple Miscarriages
Imagine a bath so big that I, a grown adult of average size, could float away. It was my partner’s job to hold on to my leg and keep me anchored as I dealt with the contractions through a mix of relaxing in hot water, watching Jurassic Park on my laptop (placed out of splash-range),…
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What Happens Next
I never used to be someone who cries a lot, but then I had four miscarriages. Now, I am someone who sneaks away from social events for a quick, private weep. I am someone who burst into tears in waiting rooms when I am told the blood tests I need will be slightly complicated. I…
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Number 4
I’ve had a fourth miscarriage. I drew journal comics to process the experience. I’ve decided I will post them here. I have written about miscarriage before, (first two here, comics drawn after the third one here and here) and I don’t think I can do it again. Not like that. To do that, you have
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Am I An Adult?
One year when I was still in highschool I asked for a green ipod for my birthday. The green was important. It was an unwell pistachio colour, sort of warm and cool at the same time. But teenagers aren’t renowned for their emotional restraint and despite the vomit-untertone I couldn’t have fallen more head-over-heads in…
Silence Killed The Dinosaurs 