December is here, which means it’s time to get festive. I love Christmas time. It’s cosy and pretty and so much fun for the littles. It is also the time for giving.
I always feel very grateful at this time of year. I have a loving circle of friends and family to celebrate with. I will exchange gifts & decorate my warm home. I’ll indulge in yummy festive treats and watch the kids in my life enjoy the seasonal magic. I am incredibly lucky to be in such a safe & comfortable position. I’m not wealthy, but I have a little to spare and I will be sharing that extra.
Refuge provide support from women and children experiencing domestic abuse. Often those fleeing abuse must leave everything behind. You can fund a variety of parcels ranging from essentials to gift that will bring a little Xmas joy.
Willow Animal Santuary run a ‘cat hotel’ that specialises in homing cats that have been unable to find a safe home elsewhere. Cats who are not house trained, have psychological issues or are feral. Often cats like this are abandoned or euthanised. Willow allows them to live their lives in safety and comfort. Willow also provides sanctuary for farm animals. They have a strict no kill policy and cultivate the most loving environment for animals who may have led difficult lives. If you can, please help the animals in their care continue to thrive.
Glasgow’s Spirit of Christmas is an excellent resource for donating to local charities. They host tonnes of Glasgow based organisations and details what each needs. You can select the kind of gift and recipient you would like to donate to. There are lots of groups facilitating present buying for kids who might otherwise receive nothing. The idea of a child being excluded for the joy of discovering that ‘Santa has been’ breaks my heart. Charities like this allow us to be a tiny part of the Christmas magic. That feels like an enormous privilege.
Renew Roots are providers of direct aid in Gaza. They are currently supporting 137 families. Their aim is feed, educate, offer support to families who have lost everything. Despite the ‘ceasefire’ attacks and blockades are ongoing. Please give whatever you can.
Pain is a curious beast. Its purpose is to protect us. Our own built in warning system; something that compels us to take our hand out of the fire or call a doctor. The whole point of pain is to give us a message that we don’t ignore. That is until something goes wrong. Then ignoring pain becomes your life mission.
Chronic pain is impossible to accurately describe. If you haven’t experienced it, you can never understand. All our lives we’re taught to report pain. The expectation being that you find the problem and there will be a solution. You graze your knee, your mum puts germolene on & kisses it better. You break a bone, you get a cast & it heals. Now with vigilance we can even hope to survive life threatening illness. We are a society awash with information; what foods we should eat, how often & how to move our bodies, how much sleep, water, sunlight are optimal. Our collective consciousness is set to believe that if we do the right things we can prevent illness and if something still goes wrong we can fix it. When that doesn’t happen, you’re stuck in a void. Physically, you are ill, but psychologically you must find a way to override it.
I am awoken most mornings by pain. I average about 4hrs sleep and rising from my bed is a fainting hazard. Every step I take hurts. My digestive system is best described as erratic and my autonomic processes are haywire. Thus I spend my days dizzy, sore, nauseated, exhausted and unable to regulate my temperature. That combination would bring most people to a standstill. You’d call the Dr, take the day off and you’d be right. But it’s everyday for me and Drs can’t help. I can’t ‘call in sick’ from life. I’m left with the challenge of learning how to turn off my body’s alarm system.
Unfortunately, you can’t. It isn’t possible to stop the pain. Chronically ill people just have to do it anyway. The only alternative to missing my entire life is to do as much as I can despite the pain. It takes a lot of work to rewire one’s natural responses. Then even more work to decipher how far you can push. A huge amount of planning is involved. There are calculations required for every single thing I want to do. Firstly the practical:
I always try to schedule my days. I estimate in advance how much impact each activity will have on my body. Then aportion rest days accordingly. Not just big days, but daily essentials like housework or showering. I attempt to judge how much I can handle and how long a recovery period I will require.
The next step is planning. Before I go anywhere I check various things. Will there be places I can sit down, do they have disabled toilets, can I access water & food I can eat? Then I figure out my condition that particular day. Is my stomach behaving? Will it be safe to eat when I am out or am I likely to vomit. Am I especially dizzy? How safe is the location if I faint? Can I physically manage the walking distances involved? And so on and so forth.
The last stage of practicalities is symptom management. Medication selection, will I require more than meds for pain relief, do I need to take food or water. What clothes will keep me most comfortable? Items that won’t increase pain, will be cool enough if I overheat, but easy to carry layers to guard against the cold if necessary. Maybe I need cooling spray or my tens machine. How many of these things can I actually carry? All must be weighed up before I step foot out of the house.
Preparations complete, now comes the really tricky bit. It’s time to manage my mind. This part is entirely in my hands. There are no guaranteed techniques. One can see pain specialists, psychologists and research til the cows come home, but you can only know what works via trial and error. One of my conditions, Fibromyalgia, impacts the way the central nervous system processes pain. Sometimes my nerves send pain signals to my brain that are way out of proportion. I can have pain anywhere or everywhere for no discernible reason. The only way to function is to override that pain. I can’t stop feeling it, but I can attempt to alter how I react to it.
My first line of defence is what I call ‘mind over matter’. I focus only on the very next thing to be done. Nothing else exists. For example, I must get to the seat up ahead. I don’t think about which parts of me hurt. No lingering on the sensations I am experiencing. I do not consider what comes after the seat. I keep my eyes on my target, keep moving and tell myself I can rest when the task is complete. This theory can be applied to anything. Brush my teeth, finish the paragraph, get to the end of the driveway. The reward of rest awaits me.
In bouts of extreme pain I opt for deception. When I have tried every pain relief method at my disposal to no avail, I lie to myself. I close my eyes and repeat ‘I’m ok’. It doesn’t lessen the pain, but it can con my body out of panic. Panic makes pain worse. The body tenses & heart races. Calmly telling myself that I am ok repeatedly can override the fear coursing through my body. The pain may be unbearable, but I won’t stop the repetition. I will bear it.
Distraction can be of use in various forms. Really loud music is a rudimentary diversion. As is cold water/ice or projected light. Basically I bombard my brain with stimuli in the hope of distracting from the pain. It’s a trick, sometimes it offers temporary relief. My other interruption tactic requires the help of others. I need someone to talk to me. A steady stream of words without my participation. Don’t ask me questions or wait for a response, simply give me a voice & a narrative to focus on. I’m not sure why but it has a calming effect. I don’t take in everything that is being said. I merely zone in on the voice and try not to think about anything else. It doesn’t stop the pain, but it somehow helps me manage it.
My last ditch effort is comparison. I recall a time when my pain was worse. I remind myself that I got through that. The pain did eventually end. If it passed before, it will pass now. I endeavour to remember all the details. Where I was, what I wore, the smells, sounds, what my eyes rested on, the sensations of needles piercing my skin, the names of medical professionals, were they kind or rude, how long I waited, did I lie down and every other particular. Eventually, reaching the point when the agony began to subside. I strive with all my might to recollect that sensation; the incredible relief of pain beginning to melt. I hold tight to the belief that it will come again.
And there you have it, the tools in my box. Of course none of them actually leave me pain free and they’re all exhausting. It takes enormous energy to pre-empt every move and even more to employ these strategies whilst already in pain. At the worst moments they don’t have any impact at all. There are times when my body is excruciating. The pain so all encompassing that there is no escape. On those days I am beaten. I stay still and hope for it to be over. That’s the real truth of chronic pain; there’s no getting away from it.
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Despite now having approximately 5 million pairs of glasses, there are still always quirky new style that catch my attention. Luckily for me Firmoo*have very kindly sent me the ones I had my eye on.
First up these prefect sunnies. Since I need prescription sunglasses I often get fed up changing from regular to sunglasses when I go from out to inside. Enter these magnetic frames. They come with various shades that click on right into my regular specs. I took them on holiday & they were so convenient. Bonus points for them being the a huge hit with my niblings; they adore playing with the magnetic shades.
Since I had a really late holiday, when I returned it was already spooky season. To get into mood I have been wearing these devilish little specs.
Finally I picked something a little different for me. I just liked all the colours and the shape on the frames. They’re give my big auntie vibes.
I’m doing well. I really am. When I compare with my previous self there is no doubt that I’m in a much better place. Still, no matter how well I become, the devil on my shoulder remains.
That devil is destruction. Self destruction. Sometimes just flashes; a momentary thought of blood or blades. Other times I experience the deepest longing to ravage my skin. My reaction to pain is still, more often that I would like, the desire for more pain. Not the same kind of pain. A pain I can control. I have worked at working myself out. Learning healthy coping strategies, questioning myself, pinning down what I feel and why have been an ongoing process for decades. I am better. I haven’t self harmed in a very long time. I still want to, though.
Not everyday. Not in the compulsive ‘can’t think about anything else until it is done way’. I don’t berate myself for not cutting or create a mandatory timetable. That is gone. I have conquered that aspect of my demon. My problem is, the underlying urge never really goes away. In times of trouble my mind thinks it knows what will ‘help’. I suppose it’s like being an alcoholic. There will always be days when one really wants a drink, except in my case it’s a scalpel, not a bottle I want to reach for. The weird bit is that these thoughts aren’t reserved for awful days. Occasionally, for no reason whatsoever, a wave of craving will hit me. Honestly, my toolbox isn’t particularly helpful in those instances. It is very difficult to reason with a nonsensical ghost in your head. I’m left with sheer determination & an awareness of how slippery the slope is.
Strangely, I rarely hear anyone talk about this. There is much discussion about the warning signs for self harm, the damage it causes and how to stop. There is even information on how to treat wounds and hide scars. It’s all very much a before and after narrative. People are sick and then they recover. As I’m sure you’re aware, very few things are ever that simple. We generally understand the complex nature of addiction and mental illness. For example, much work has been done to educate people on eating disorders. Most people know how difficult they are to manage and recover from. It’s generally understood that people are not concretely cured. It is a process that involves relapses and continuous effort. Disordered eating becomes compulsive and corrupts thought patterns. Often nothing is as important as maintaining the disease. Likewise substance abuse takes over a person. The priority becomes obtaining the substance of choice. Whilst no one thinks that’s good or healthy, we do understand that people don’t want to be controlled by an illness. These are topics that are commonly discussed; we have compassion and celebrate those who have worked towards recovery. Not so for self harm.
Self harm is still taboo. There isn’t really any mainstream discourse of its realities. No one is making serious documentaries or accurate media portrayals. Celebrities aren’t telling stories of how they won their battle with self harm in the way they regularly do regarding addiction, eating disorders or issues like anxiety. The latter are viewed as brave and inspiring, self harm is still seen as disturbing. Even talk of relapse or the ongoing nature of recovery are received positively, but discussions like I had above is very much in the ‘crazy’ category for most. Despite the fact that statistics show the prevalence of ED & SH are fairly similar and that they share many commonalities, the public perception is very different. Even years into ‘recovery’ it frustrates me. The stigma sticks. I can carry the weight of other people’s judgement now. That wasn’t always the case and it won’t be for many still in the throes of illness. The fear of the judgement creates an impediment to seeking help. That delay is extremely dangerous. So, yes, I’m still talking about this because hardly anyone else is. I don’t believe people get better in silence and I think it helps to be prepared for what better might actually look like.
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I gave you a brief introduction to my beautiful ginger boy a few months back. Now that we’ve had time to get to know each other I wanted share all the details. Plus tell you about the awesome organisation who brought us together.
I feel extremely lucky to have found this boy. He is a dream cat who has settled right in. When he arrived he had been an indoor cat for quite a while. He was curious about outside, but a little scared. Within weeks he had gone from not venturing past the doorstep, to using the catflap to come and go as he pleased. He loves to patrol his garden and make sure no other cats even think about entering. I also instigated a name change. I wasn’t sure if he would take to a new name, but after a few weeks he was happily responding to his new moniker. Since he is orange like Irn Bru, I have named him Bru. It suits him to a tee.
Bru is a snuggler. He climbs right up on my chest for cuddles complete with possessive little head buts. It is incredible to have won his trust so quickly. He has of course stolen my heart. Bru has also claimed his spots; window sill for optimal observation, top of the wardrobe for being king of his castle and right beside or on me when he’s ready for head rubs. He does occasionally exhibit the trademark ginger cat traits. For instance he frequently fall off his perch whilst sleeping. Mostly though, he is as sharp as his claws. He learns fast and adapts smoothly. I’m so proud of him.
As much as he is a love bug, he is crazy strong. He moves with speed, leaps great heights with ease and when he wants a cuddle, he is getting a cuddle. He needs a big fuss when I get out of bed in the morning and whenever I leave the house. He has taken to following me outside and demanding some love at the end of the drive. He hates it when I have a shower or bath. He sits right by bath and screams out his concern until I get out. Then he follows me around as I get dried, dressed etc just to make sure the drenching has damaged me. Bru is a sweetheart and I adore him.
Now, how did I get to be his Mum? That’s thanks to Glasgow Pet Collective. An amazing charity who not only find home for animals who need them they also help people keep their beloved pets. Their inclusive policies are a breath of fresh air. I cannot recommend them enough. I fostered to adopt with Bru, it was very straightforward. The first few weeks that I had him in my care I was officially fostering. Glasgow Pet Collective took care of cost of neuturing and vaccinations and I kept them updated on Bru’s progress. Communication was fantastic and as they knew I wanted to adopt we moved towards that. I signed the papers and became his Mama after about a month. I really appreciate that the collective support foster parents and ensure all adoptees are properly placed.
If you would like to support Glasgow Pet Collective’s work you can donate, foster or volunteer.
It occurred to me that there had been an outfit drought this summer. I decided I must correct that error with a bountiful summer style post.
I have searched long and hard for the perfect pair of denim shorts. I am so happy to have finally found them. Of course they’re leopard print. Eveything is better in leopard. I call this outfit ‘the ladybird’ because that is what my little nephew told me I looked like.
Shorts – Simply Be Polka Dot Top – Daisy Street Sunglasses – Where Light
Next up is this amazing tie dye jumpsuit. It is going to be perfect for my upcoming holiday. It’s super light and floaty. Also great for unpredictable Glasgow weather with just a little layering.
Jumpsuit – Freestyle T -Shirt – Curated By Girls
This red top another one waiting for my holiday. It’s actually part of a co ord, it has adorable matching shorts. I wasn’t going to let it languish in a drawer until then. It pairs well with so many things, but since I love red and leopard this has been my favourite combo. I don’t often flash the belly, but I love this look.
Skirt – House of Frasers Blouse – Simply Be
Sheer has been the theme of my summer. We have had so many crazy hot days that my peely wally skin has needed to be covered, but also breathe. This sheer t shirt has been a go to. This little skirt with built in shorts has also been a lifesaver. Great for the hot weather, but allows me to wrangle little ones without flashing.
Skirt – Halara T-Shirt – Boohoo
Last, but not least is this dreamy dress. A girl can’t help but feel lovely when draped in this starry night creation. It’s originally from a dreaded ff purveyor, but I got it second hand. I feel better about it being on my body than in landfill.
Dress – Thrifted
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On Saturday I might I watched The Biggest Loser. I didn’t really want to, I knew it would infuriate me and I was correct.
I never watched The Biggest Loser when it was showing. Not because I knew better, at the time I was very much steeped in diet culture & self loathing. It just wasn’t available on whatever tv channels I had at the time. So, for me, this was the first time seeing clips of the show. I felt rage, sadness and an overwhelming urge to intervene. The abuse those people were subjected to is appalling. Sadly I remember how commonplace that was at the time. I completely understand why the contestants signed up for this public humiliation.
For me, the documentary went way too easy on those involved in creating this programme. Right off the bat, Bob Harper (one of the show trainers) claims that he regrets nothing he did on The Biggest Loser. No one takesany real responsibility for the fact that they caused real and lasting harm. The film makers allow the producers, trainers and show Dr to dodge accountability with pathetic excuses. I felt that the documentary ultimately reinforced the message of the show; the ends justify the means.
The creators of The Biggest Loser (BL) admit that they purposely used sensationalist tactics to attract attention. They knew the connotations of the name and played on it. They wanted people to tune in thinking they could judge these ‘fat losers’. They encouraged the trainers to be outrageous, they wanted contestants to throw up, cry etc. They knew the vile ‘challenges’ were cruel and unnecessary, but it made good television. They excused this exploitation by claiming that they were improving people’s health. In other words, all was acceptable in the name of thin. Everyone involved knew they were hurting people. Dr Robert Huizenga, the programme’s medical advisor told them so. He claimed that he regularly met with the trainers to explain his recommendations. He also admitted he was aware that they ignored him; they cut the calorific intake to dangerous levels and over trained people to the point of injury. Dr Huizenga tries to paint himself as caring medical professional who was helpless in his attempts to prevent harm. In reality he had a duty of care, he should have left the show and reported the dangerous practices. He could have stopped taking their money and spoken out at any time. He didn’t, he continued to profit from damaging fat people. Not only the people on the show, but all fat people who were impacted by the message of the BL.
That gist of that message was that fat people are lazy and gross. The ‘temptation’ challenges reinforced the idea that fat people can’t control themselves. The cruelty of those challenges is ignored in the discussion, the participants were forced to choose between gorging on ‘junk food’ or missing visits with their families. The footage included in the documentary shows participants crying whilst eating pizza slices; their suffering was entertainment. The show revelled in degrading the fat competitors. Tasks that made them build food towers with their mouths, trainers screaming, participants set against each other. Placing people on extreme diets, working them past exhaustion daily and then capturing their disputes and meltdowns on camera is repulsive. Worse still is the soul destroying message the trainers rammed home. Once the abuse was concluded they would tell participants that it was for their own good. I only shouted because I care about you, I knew you could do it, I didn’t want you to give up. Then the nail in the coffin, ‘don’t make me have to do that again’. The lesson to the participants and the viewing public? This is your fault. It’s your fault you are fat. It’s your fault you don’t apply yourself. It’s your fault that I had to abuse you.
All of this aside, the BL’s main claim, that they were improving lives, was obviously not true. Even if weight loss was a magic cure all, their process was clearly unsustainable. No one can live on 600-800 calories p/d forever. People with jobs, families and lives cannot train for 8hrs a day, everyday. It doesn’t take a genius to conclude that as soon as participants return to their regular life, they will gain weight. I have partaken in enough crash dieting to know how quickly the weight returns. One of the former contestants in the documentary talked of how he asked the BL to set up aftercare and was denied. Other contestants reached out to seek help for injuries sustained on the show and were ignored. Cut to a producer explaining that they didn’t have the budget for aftercare. Plus he didn’t think it was their responsibility. They were making a tv show; what happened after wasn’t their business. Meanwhile we learn the BL franchise earned billions. They licensed their name to every product you can imagine. Further exploiting vulnerable people desperate to lose weight. It was a cash grab and fat people were paying for it.
The only entirely critical voice in the documentary is fat activist, Aubrey Gordon. Her contributions are insightful and impactful. Alas, there was not nearly enough of her. Even the former BL contestants who were critical of the show were still heartbreakingly steeped in fat phobia. They were still seeking weight loss, still blaming themselves and still felt they weren’t good enough. The evidence of the consequence of extreme dieting was somewhat skimmed over. Studies on broken metabolism, life threatening conditions and even Bob Harper’s heart attack are treated as incidental. They place no importance on the fact that a man who adhered to the supposed ideal diet and lifestyle had a massive heart attack at 52. As if that information doesn’t disprove the central argument of The Biggest Loser.
The documentary concluded with more diet culture propaganda. They give obesity stats without ever mentioning that those numbers are based on BMI. A measurement that has been conclusively proven to be inaccurate. It’s a non scientific, racist scale. The documentary makers allow the show creators, trainers and Dr to claim good intent and even positive results. Their hearts were in the right place, they say. They made some people thin. Damn the ramifications. After all, anything is better fat.
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Do you believe in fate? Maybe you think even asking the question is absurd. Part of me agrees. Life just happens, right?
There doesn’t appear to be much rhyme or reason to the things that happen. Whether examined through a personal or global lens, it all feels random. Chaotic, even. Yet, there a times when the pieces fall precisely together. Incredibly unlikely circumstances align to create perfect moments. Almost like they were destined to be.
The Man
We didn’t live in the same city or have the same interests. We didn’t know any of the same people or enjoy the same places. The chances of us ever crossing paths was minute. Cross they did. We met at an event that he attended as a professional commitment and I was drawn to for ethical reasons. Here’s the thing, he was handsome & broody, but speaking another language. Not literally; we just weren’t on the same page at all. Still, I was intrigued. I wanted to keep listening to all the things that wouldn’t normally interest me. Alas, someone wanted to introduce me to an editor and blah, blah, blah. The moment passed, along with any chance of seeing the enigmatic stranger again. Or so I thought. Three days later I was cc’d on an email that I spent 5 seconds on before it landed in my trash box. Luckily for me someone else on the recipients list paid more attention. His ensuing email led to a steamy romance and an enduring friendship. Now that strange man is an integral part of life. Almost like it was meant to be.
The Finances
At various points in my life I have experienced weird financial luck. Sometimes tiny and sometimes more significant. I have found myself short of the funds needed for something specific. Then out of nowhere I will receive money that I had no expectation of. An out of blue tax rebate, holiday pay that I wasn’t even aware I was due, unpaid invoice is suddenly satisfied. A last minute monetary reprieve. This might sound fanciful or even just plain stupid, but I’ve always had this thought that perhaps someone or something was looking out for me.
The Job
I had just graduated. I took on full time hours in the call centre I had been working evenings in. Three weeks in, I was losing my mind. 12hr shifts that were actually 13hrs (they didn’t pay me for the legally required breaks), customers who either wanted to fight about their bill or ask me to describe the films on the adult channels. Oh and managers who were trained by some sort of despot. However, the rent needed to be paid. So, I found myself applying for every job under the sun and accepting the first one that was remotely suitable. The first few weeks I thought I had leaped out of the pan and into the fire. It was so boring. The most mundane, repetitive office job imaginable. My manager was an overly religious ogre. It was dire. Then some fellow new starts hit the floor and things started looking up. We clicked immediately. They were all in similar positions, just graduated or in need of stop gap employment. Suddenly there’s laughter, common ground and epic nights out. They made that job bearable and that job gave me the impetus to do what I really wanted to do. I began to seek out writing jobs. I put myself out there and started to get small jobs. It was the beginning of my career. Had I not found myself in such an employment dead end I may not have summoned the bravery to go for it. Who knows what twist of fate brought us all together in that godforsaken retail park, but I’m grateful. 20 odd years later they’re all still in my life. We’ve formed deep & wonderful friendships. Feels to me that we were meant to meet.
The Flower
I have always liked white flowers. They’re fresh and pretty. In the aftermath of my first miscarriage I took a walk in the park by my flat. I needed some time alone to think and feel. As I sat by the river a whole bunch of white flowers drifted past. I don’t know how they came to be there, they were fresh cut flowers. Whatever the reason they felt significant. Since then white flowers have been a presence in my life. I’ll see them in the wild in moments when I need comfort. I saw an arrangement at the nurses station when I was admitted after my third miscarriage and a white rose motif in a stained glass window at the clinic I attended for tests to ascertain the reason for my recurrent losses. White flowers just turn up, serendipitously, a sign that my little ones are somewhere.
I seem to have almost entirely neglected my wee corner of the internet. So, here comes a potted history of my June.
In truth is most of the month was not a surprise. However, it was lovely. I had a lot of time with my littles, much of it in the sun – always a bonus. We’ve had first haircut in an actual salon, teddy bear tea parties, cat cafes plus a whole lot of our usual nonsense.
Glasgow summer is as unpredictable as always. Amongst those sunny days we have had plenty of rain. The weird bit is most of those rainy days have remained warmed. I do not do well in the heat, so I have been wearing as few clothes as is decent (& practical). I’ve had a hankering for some cute shorts for a while anyway. It took a little time to hunt down right pair, but I finally snagged them.
Shorts – Simply Be
Now we get to an exciting part of the month. Not only did I get dolled up and drink delicious wine with the grown ups, I followed it with seeing the most thrilling band ever. Pulp! I have been a Jarvis devotee since the mid 90’s. His powers have not decreased. They are amazing. Their show was the perfect mix of new material, banging classics and lesser known gems. I even harked back to my youthful gig going days and drank a few pints of cider. Perfect night and if you’ll allow me to bang my own drum; perfect outfit too.
Which brings me to peak June excitment. I’m bringing the drums back for a big roll…………… Let me present the newest member of my clan, Bru. He is a very sweet ginger boy who has been an absolute angel so far. We’re just getting to know each other, but I am very excited to be his Mama.
If you like what I do you can support me on Patreon.
Yup, it’s time for my monthly appeal to your generosity. There are so many groups in desperate need. These are just some suggestions that I have given my support to this month
This month I will continue to donate to two families in Gaza. Their situation continues to be dire. If you have anything to spare, it would make a huge difference.
I also chose to support UNFPA emergency birth kit campaign. These kits include essentials like Soap, latex gloves & umbilical cord clip. These simple tools can save the lives of mother & baby when people are forced to give birth in challenging conditions. These kits fight the risk of infection, one of the leading causes of maternal mortality worldwide. You can provide an emergency kit with just a £4 donation. If you are able, please consider giving whatever you can.
Something in the way she moves... 
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