Baby Orchid has been ex utero for nine months, which is a milestone in my book.
Nine months ago I was enjoying newborn snuggles and the sunrise making the bricks outside my window a glorious colour and the painkillers post c section.
I’ve lost most of the baby weight, mental and physical. It was a difficult pregnancy for myriad reasons. It was worth it.
It is amazing. What’s also amazing is that since Baby Orchid made his entrance into the world abortion has become a normal part of antenatal health care.
Knowing that women who face what we might have faced had the worst happened now have options makes me happy. Every single day.
Our family is complete.
I took this photo a year ago. I clearly quite like it, because I’ve posted it before.
It was a time that will always be a weird mix of fuzziness and absolute clarity. I was pregnant, I had complications, I was emotional, I was tired, I was restless, I was nervous. I didn’t know how the vote was going to go and I had passed by some pretty obnoxious posters and people on a near daily basis.
I’ve only just started processing the past year properly. I’ve been listening to some podcasts about the campaign and the result and it feels like the campaign only happened a short time ago, but also like I’m hearing analysis of another time and place entirely.
I’m still elated about the result and I’m still really angry that we had to go through this at all. I’m angry that the legislation isn’t perfect but elated that people are getting the healthcare they need. I’m angry that a local election candidate who left his political party because the absolutely minimal legislation in 2013 was too extreme for him sidles past our repeal bumper stickers to look for our vote in a constituency which voted yes by a landslide.
I feel guilty that I didn’t do more and wonder if I was too lazy, and then I wonder if I needed to do more given the result. Then I feel guilty for trying to absolve myself of my guilty feelings. I’m not sure if feeling this guilt is good or bad at this point.
I look at my children and that makes me happiest of all. All the marches and the chats and the donations and the support and the GIFs and the funny moments and the sad moments and the whole of the 25th of May 2018 when I barely functioned because of the knots in my stomach and the all over shaking when I thought about what might happen. I don’t want to say it was all worth it, but it happened and I can look back on it all in a slightly less garbled way than I would have even a few months ago.
I’m glad I have these memories; they’re part of me now. I’m equally glad that this morning when I moved my box of repeal stuff aside to get at something else in the attic I was able to tell myself that the box is a relic of another time already.
This view. A place in Dublin I rarely walk around. I forgot how nice a riverside stroll can be.
The aforementioned stroll led to a long overdue lunch with friends and plans for more catchups.
Looking forward to another referendum. We do love a good referendum. Thanks, Irish Constitution.
Finally being in the headspace to be able to listen to analysis of the referendum on the eighth amendment. Still brings all the emotions to the surface. Still can’t quite believe its normal to see advertisements for abortion services at bus stops and in the local health clinic.
Feeling stronger after every gym session.
This is a photo I took on the 1st of May 2018. The referendum was on the 25th of May and by the 26th of May we knew we had repealed the eighth. By the 1st of January the legislation to give effect to the proposed abortion service was in place.
I know the legislation isn’t perfect and I voted for repeal in the hope that further changes to the current law will happen. I know services aren’t as accessible as I’d like and that some people will travel.
My fear is that we’ll continue to rely on so-called hard cases to push for further reform. Every case is a hard case. No one wants a medical procedure if they can avoid it. I’ll continue to grill any political representative who comes to our door on their stance on reproductive rights.
Is this good enough? I don’t know. I think we’ll have to keep working and stay vigilant. I’m learning more and more that we can’t be complacent about anything to do with reproductive health care.
It’s been quite the ten days of highs and lows since 25th May. Mainly highs, it has to be said. And this weekend involved such glorious weather it almost felt like we had a weekend away. It feels almost churlish to complain about trivialities again.
But I’m not looking forward to a return trip to Ikea to return something we bought during an efficient shopping run on Saturday. There’s a few nooks and crannies crying out for some reorganisation but I’m not in a Konmari mood right now. Our fridge is a mess after the weekend but I can’t face cleaning it and doing a virtuous week of eating what we have already instead of stopping off at the shops before I come home and buying what I really want to eat.
It’s kind of nice to have my brain mulling over these types of “problems’ again. I haven’t forgotten that a scant two hours up the road my sisters in the North are still fighting some of the battles we’ve won though. Today the House of Commons starts talking about their rights.
Last Friday night at three minutes past 10pm.
Catching up with my oldest friend watching the results coming in and just getting happier and happier.
Wearing my together for yes tshirt on Saturday afternoon and feeling lighter than I have done for weeks.
Clare Daly. Every speech, every time.
Having a use for a ‘fancy’ box after seven years of shuffling it between homes and rooms. It will be a repeal the eighth memory box now.
Just after 10pm on Friday I frantically refreshed the Irish Times’ website for results of the exit poll on the referendum. I thought I was seeing things when I saw the words ‘landslide in favour of repeal’ or some variation thereof. I burst into tears. This week has been exhausting and draining for me, so I cannot imagine how those right on the frontlines felt seeing the news. I then started panicking and we decided we’d endure another 90 minute wait for the RTE poll at 1130pm. I couldn’t have slept before then even if I wanted to.
The 1130pm exit poll results were similar and we couldn’t quite believe it. All day I’d felt anxious, and judging from messages from friends a lot of people felt the same. We’d reassured ourselves that we just needed one more vote than the other side, but we knew that would frustrate any attempts to legislate. We never even dared hope for a 60%+ figure in favour of repeal. We slept a little easier but we didn’t want to get too optimistic.
When the tallies started coming in we still couldn’t quite believe it. Photos from people at the count showed clear majorities voting yes across the board, Dublin, Cork, Limerick, Mayo – we couldn’t believe it but we started to relax a bit. I picked up a friend who came home for the referendum and we watched the results come in on RTE, feeling slightly incredulous and as though we could finally start to relax a bit.
The day wore on and we relaxed a lot. It was a clear and decisive win. I cried a few times. I didn’t expect it to be like this. Not so many years ago I dithered over wearing a black repeal sweater on the school run and finally decided to put it on and wear my cause across my chest. We got some stickers for our car but when they arrived we wondered if it was a good idea to put them on just in case. We put them on and handed spares to others.
Yesterday we realised the bubble we were in was pretty big. It is a bubble of the majority. The marches we went on represented the majority. It’s a good feeling.