It never ends...
By Kara L.C. Jones

It's been almost four years since my son died.

I have had friends and family look me in the face and tell me to stop wallowing in my sorrows and to get over it. I wish for one day, they could step into my shoes.

Friday, I got a call from a friend. Another friend's baby had died at birth.

There was email waiting for me saying that over 200 emails had gone to some State Representative in the effort to BEG for the passage of the MISSing Angels Bill.

I watched a video tape during lunch on Thursday which featured an interview with a woman who had miscarried her child at 18 weeks along. She went into labor! Her midwife had her give birth at home alone, sitting on the fucking toilet, till the baby came out, swinging by her cord, with the placenta stuck in the woman. The midwife told her on the phone to pop out the placenta into a container of some sort, and the woman's husband found a clean yogurt container and helped the woman pop out the placenta. When the midwife arrived the woman peered over the sink, onto newspaper where the midwife dumped out the contents of the yogurt container. And what did she see? Her fucking child, cord, and placenta. And you're tellin' me she didn't give birth and doesn't deserve a birth certificate?


If we don't give voice to these stories, who the fuck will?

I heard from a family member that they couldn't get the bereaved mother out of the baby's room and it had already been a week since the stillbirth. Oh, gawd, give me a break!!?? Get her out of the baby's room? Where the fuck is she suppose to go? One fucking week? One week and she's supposed to what? Go back to work? Have fucking tea with you and chat about the lastest news from Iraq where someone else's children are being bombed to fucking death?

Yeah, great.

Cynical? Jaded? Pissed off? Demanding changes? Fuck yes.

Why aren't you?


A Kevin Smith fan, a Huntress freak (the real one, not that fake WB tv version), stillbirth mother, mourner, slacker, 30 something crisis of reality, founder of KotaPress, and one damned moody woman!


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