Always enveloped in darkness hidden shame and veils of sorrow.

The emptiness the sunlight and happiness to grey they couldn’t look at you. The ones who did didn’t know and that was for the best.

The unwanted comments the stares gestures and question what’s it to be a boy our a girl a fucking corspe you want to scream. You remain silent politely smile hid the tears in your eyes.

You carry a double stigma. The shame that you can’t shoot out a healthy baby every nine months. A healthy boy baby at that.

The other being a stigma your use to carrying you carry every day the stigma of being poor.

You can’t travel couldn’t even go to Belfast we just didn’t have the means. I couldn’t even ask my Mam she wore those stupid little feet in the last referendum. 

Utterly alone both of us pointing, blame, shouting names, afraid. Let down by state, church and health care.

This is the silent voice the voice that in this repeal debate that is not being heard. The women who carry the double stigma who carry the shame of being poor.

There was no cuddle cots, there was no washing and dressing and no hugs. He died in the womb never knowing the outside world. There was no minutes of breath no hope just desperate labour pains and despair. 

No white coffin nothing they gave us his body a year later five years later they sent a letter returning the body parts they never asked us permission to take.

No life no hope but two funerals for a child that never lived. 

So many can’t travel for reasons of their own so many suffer alone. We need to repeal the eight amendment. We need to do that now. 

We need access on all parts of this island to essential healthcare we need Free Save and Legal.

We need to ensure this never happens any more.



I haven’t even looked at my website or my blog in seven months uncharitstic of me as someone who is addicted to social media and a social media content writer. 

It doesn’t mean I have been remiss or not interested in social media infact I became more active but mainly on Facebook.

It was the one tool I used to write short pieces called view from the beauty parlour. 

I just reread the last article I wrote on WordPress which I never published as it was my final paper for college which was on Irish waters social media campaign compared to activists on the left. My conclusion would not have been welcome by my own comrades and I was uncomfortable with my ability to able to devise a marketing campaign for Irish water.

It brought me to a point where I had to decide what was most important using my creativity and being employed or my political stands. 

I didn’t get time to linger on it for long the week I submitted my paper I was diagnosed with lung cancer. I got a 100% on the paper so thanks to all my  comrades who helped me out on it.

So for a short while I kept the illness secret at my daughter’s wished. They felt that I live a very public life and this was happening to not just me but them as well and they didn’t wish to share. 

In the end I was forced to because my work load was not decreasing with me letting people know I was ill.

I confined my posts to Facebook. Each carried a new out look for me and documented how I fought my battle the warriors I met and lost and how cancer destroys friendships and builds new ones.

Twitter was left alone because I really only use it to shout at Vincent Brown. My LinkedIn got one post as unrecovered and started looking for work again about gaps on CV’s and how I would explain I was busy for a year fighting to live. 

My post where short and simple observations of live hopefully they give hope to the warriors and their families.

As I start back into the living world I have come to my old friend WordPress. I now have the energy and concentration to put into full articles the vigior and expression required for a full blog. 

Glad to be back