Next challenge: the London Moonwalk 2018!

Just in case I missed the challenge of getting through 26.2 miles, I’ve got my sights set on the same distance again in 11 days: the London Moonwalk!

It’s a marathon-distance walk, which begins at midnight in Clapham and spans across London, taking in many sights. Oh, and we all wear bras – eek!! *googles how to hide wobbly bits*

Free to use

I’m doing it with my friends, Mark and Heather, as part of team “We Are Mammary”! This year marks ten years of Heather living with stage IV cancer, which makes the walk feel especially momentous as we mark the journey Heather has had to date – a warrior and absolute inspiration all the way!

Walk the Walk is a grant-making breast cancer charity that gives funds to charities big and small that are involved with breast cancer in order to make a difference to the lives of as many people as possible affected by the disease. This is where you come in! If my story has made you smile or stop and think for a moment, please consider sponsoring me and the team just a few quid so that everyone affected by breast cancer can be given the support they need and are offered treatments that give them the chance to live their lives. If this is a cause close to your heart, and you’re like to donate towards it, you can find our page here.

Now, just to bling up this bad boy!!

I’m a London Marathoner!

Before last week’s 2018 London Marathon, 1,042,960 competitors had finished the race since it started in 1981. For the new total add to that the more than 38,000 who finished this year, despite the grueling conditions… a number than includes ME! Even though it was the hottest London Marathon IN HISTORY – and that even slight heat on a day when I’m pottering around is almost too much for me – I managed to get round the 26.2 miles to complete what will forever remain one of the most memorable events of my life.

I went into the day with a plan to enjoy myself as much as possible, and a loose/very adjustable time goal of around 5:15. When I realised we were going to be running in conditions resembling a sauna, I adjusted that goal to “5 something”, hoping to come in anywhere under 6 hours; I’ve ran one previous marathon – 11 years ago, pre-twins, when I was much fitter/slimmer than now! – and I did that in 4:36, so thought being in the one-hour-above bracket versus two meant I would feel less far away from that time! Saying that, I knew I’d be thrilled to finish at all, given the heat and the fact that I was only a few months back to running, but I was delighted to come in at 5:55, so was doubly thrilled to have hit my revised goal as well as have finished the thing!

It was the most brutal run of my life, and I saw so many runners collapse along the route and have to be tended to/stretchered off; I felt grateful that I got over the finishing line unscathed. Over 100 very seriously ill runners were taken to hospital during the race, with many more treated on the course, and it proved to be an even more mammoth task than so many of us had anticipated/predicted. A marathon is epic… A marathon in heat? Almost unbearable for many.

My thoughts – like so many others – are with the family of Matt Campbell who so tragically died just under 4 miles from the finish line. The ‘Finish for Matt‘ campaign will help to ensure that the legacy he leaves is a large one; at the time of writing this his JustGiving page – which he set up to raise money for Brathay Trust in his father’s memory – had reached a total of more than £327,500.

That spirit, which has led to a massive drive to remember him, was so evident on the day itself. As I approached the starting area in Greenwich Park the morning of the marathon, uplifting classical music blared from speakers, and I felt the first choked-throat moment of the day – what was the first of many!!

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The atmosphere overall was fizzing… with nerves, excitement, goodwill, emotion… everyone felt part of something incredibly special. Here I am before the start, still relatively fresh-faced, hiding in the shade while I can!

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It was great meeting up with other Great Ormond Street runners too. Hats off to this guy who ran in a costume that must have been baking!

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After bag drop, and an epic loo queue, it was time for the national anthem, and the cheer when the queen hit the start buzzer at 10am was insane! This was actually happening!!

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Us ‘regular’ runners were able to watch that part on screens as we were starting in waves after this point, and then it was our turn to line up in our relevant pens, ready for take-off!

I was near the end of the starters and looking ahead at 40,000 people – people from all walks of life with the same goal that day – was really moving, and I felt moments from tears several times.

The vests of the 3 runners in front of me said ‘In Memory of my husband’, ‘In Memory of my dad’, and ‘In Memory of my son’, and looking at those words – fighting back the tears – it hit home how for so many of us we’d already dealt with more than a marathon distance could throw at us, even in the heat. If we could come through what we all had, then we could do this!

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I didn’t cross the start line until 10.50am, and with the heat and nerves I already felt energy sapping, but that soon came back as I crossed the start line to the cheers of the crowd, and we were off! Only 26.2 miles to go – easy peasy!!

start line

The London Marathon itself is a jumble of so many things: crowds; people shouting your name; costumes; run-through showers; thinking ‘one foot in front of the other; looking out for friends and family; taking in landmarks; having an ‘OH MY GOD I’M RUNNING ACROSS TOWER BRIDGE’ moment!!’

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Most people I saw were running in a charity vest, and it was so moving to think of all the reasons why people were running. My own – raising money for Great Ormond Street who treat my three-year-old son’s kidney failure – was something I thought about in the darker moments, reminding myself of everyone who’d supported my run and digging deep to push on, and thinking of how much GOSH will be doing for us in the coming years. Every time that voice said, ‘you can’t do this’, I thought of why I was doing it, and for who, and kept putting one foot down and then the other, and repeat and repeat.

It was great having people to look out for on the day, and what really helped me was knowing at what mile to look for people – the crowds are so insane, with everyone calling your name to support, that it can be easy to miss people you actually know! The spots my husband and friends went to were Mile 6, just round the bend of the Cutty Sark, around Mile 14 (top end of Narrow Street, which was a top tip from someone as a quiet-ish location, which it was!), and then Mile 24, just after the Blackfriars Underpass. Here I am then and I can tell you the smile here is all about seeing my husband/friends, and knowing the end is close, and not reflective of how I’m physically feeling at that point!!

mile 24

And then it was on to the homeward straight! It was such a strange feeling at this point – my entire body feeling like lead, but the thought of finishing and the excitement of the crowds making the adrenaline pump. Running down towards the palace and around the corner onto the Mall, with everyone cheering, is seared into my memory as a TOP moment!! Just indescribable!

Here I am on the final approach… willing myself to get to the end, and get that medal!!

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And then, the final part of a long journey… 26.2 miles, and 6 months of training…

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BLING!!

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A journey complete, and the running bug officially kickstarted again after it being pushed to the side (i.e. splattered with a sledgehammer!) since I had my twins almost 4 years ago. The past 6 months of training, building my fitness from scratch around an already hectic schedule, has seen me have to reach very deep and as well as feeling fitter and stronger physically, the same can be said for mentally and emotionally.

The London Marathon may not be a marathon I’ll ever have the opportunity or luck to do again – and it might be a distance I never get to repeat – but forever I’ll have the honour of saying I’m one in a million… a London Marathon finisher!

London Marathon: T minus 2 days!

This time two days from now I’ll have run the London Marathon! Eek!! This will be such an emotional day for me: fundraising for a charity close to my heart (Great Ormond Street), and the conclusion of 9 months where I have focused on trying to rebalance life as a freelancing parent of twins, where there is also a serious chronic illness to manage.

When you’re the parent of a child with additional needs, the needs of their health and care – even if that means big sacrifices within the family unit – have to always come first. Doesn’t mean to say you have to lose yourself, but more that if you’re not careful that could easily happen.

Subsequently, adding ‘self-care’ as a regular item to my task list has been a focus, and I feel great benefits from carving out a regular slice of time for the marathon training.

I’ve been officially training for 6 months (and spent 3 before that building up to a half-marathon), and even though it seemed like a mission to begin with and a big chunk of time to commit (and a lot of people did think I was quite mad taking this on, on top of everything!) it really has gone in a flash.

6 months on I’m fitter, healthier, stronger, happier. It would have been so easy – and tempting, to be honest! – to put it on the long finger, and say “I’m too busy; I’ll never be able to do that … I’ll start a bit down the line”. But here I am, about to run a marathon!

I still have a chunk of weight to lose, but I have lost quite a bit during the training, and most importantly I feel good, and I feel like I’ve found a bit of myself again that had been swallowed up by twins, 12 months of reflux, kidney failure, vats of meds, hundreds of blood tests, various unexpected life emergencies, managing work on top of all of that…

I feel I’ve rewired my brain a bit during the last few months, and now a run is often the answer to a stressful day with the kids – not that glass of wine/calorific treat!! (Nice as they are!) It’s important for the kids to have healthy role-models – especially my son who will really need to mind himself and his health – and I love that they now think it so normal that on Sunday mornings they have time with their dad while I run, and they seem so proud when I come back from a race with a medal. Sunday’s medal will most definitely be the best yet!!

https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/donna-hillyer

 

Savita mattered. Women in Ireland matter.

The father of Savita Halappanavar, who died at University Hospital Galway in 2012 after a septic miscarriage, has called for the people of Ireland to vote yes to repealing the 8th Amendment in Ireland’s referendum next month.
Savita didn’t have to die, but her name is now forever etched on the list of women who have lost their lives due to this law. They are our mothers, our sisters, our friends, our wives – and they shouldn’t have to die. The lives of women in Ireland matter too. WE matter.
The problem with the 8th Amendment as it stands is that it’s completely illogical, and in every instance where a choice is needed it is being broken. It’s simple logic: you cannot give equal rights to a pregnant woman and a foetus – when a decision has to be made, one or other HAS to be prioritised, thus making this law impossible to apply even in simple terms. That it was ever passed Thanks , with its current wording, astounds me.
And in answer to which I think has priority, I will always say it’s the one that’s here, alive now. If I had to make a choice between my living children and a child not born, my children will get priority every time. A law that would make their health/safety jeopardised – by forcing their mother through emotional/psychological/physical horror – is unfathomable to me.
A law that means a cancer patient’s treatment is stopped if she becomes pregnant – meaning she and her baby will both die – is totally and utterly barbaric. Our country has treated its women like animals for too long – once dropped outside the laundries, it’s now to the airport/ferry. “Not our problem…” etc etc. The Catholic Church shouting loud and hard… but the Tuam baby scandal is fresh in our minds. Forgive me if I don’t look to the church on this issue (whose corruption/cover-ups in relation to women and children means they don’t have a voice here whatsoever in my opinion) and instead look to international human rights and biology.
We have to trust women to make the choices that are right for their specific situation, and in the meantime not deny them basic maternity rights. Every pregnancy is a complex scenario and only those at the epicentre know what is right for them. For someone to be forced against their wishes to carry a baby to full-term, and birth it, knowing it won’t make it/will be born suffering and live in pain for a few days, is a cruelty I have no words for. Or a woman whose pregnancy will very likely kill them, but who is told they can’t be helped until they do actually start to die, with the hope being they can indeed be saved at the time. Fingers crossed, eh?
The only way to amend the law, is for it to first be repealed, after which point Ireland can debate what laws it can put in place to guarantee the safety of women. 2018 Ireland… it may as well be 1918 if this law isn’t repealed.
If you’re undecided about which way to vote, please look into the 8th Amendment and what it actually means, and what maternity rights women in Ireland don’t have access to because of it, so that you’re as informed as possible before you make your choice. The In Her Shoes – Women Of The Eighth Page is a good starting point, where you can read stories of how the 8th Amendment as it stands has affected women. Every story has made me want to cry, and scream about how Irish women are being treated.
I do strongly believe that when decisions have to be made women should be trusted to make the right decision. I cannot imagine – having had a complicated pregnancy with the twins – had I been told that I didn’t have a say over my body in the midst of that. I was trusted, and was able to make the choice that was right for me.

“Asking for it…”

This is a great article by Irish author Louise O’Neill, which sums up so many of my own emotions about the Ulster Rugby rape trial verdict, having followed the trial closely.

It’s been a divisive trial, but one thing can be certain: seeing what that girl went through – shamed, and shamed, over and over – to prove she was essentially “asking for it”, was appalling, and for sure will not be an encouragement for other victims of rape to come forward.

These guys weren’t cleared or exonerated. The view was there was insufficient evidence to find them guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. But my question is: what does it take?! In our current legal system, if all the evidence presented in this case wasn’t enough, what evidence CAN prove rape, short of CCTV/the guy admitting it, especially in a situation where the girl already knows the guy (or guys, as in this case…)? Or are women just always presumed to be lying?

Here we had their texts talking about the hysterical state they’d left her off in (let’s not even start on their other texts…); the taxi driver confirming how upset she was; her texting one of the guys the following morning to say “what happened last night was not consensual”; her texting her friends to say what happened; a doctor’s report saying she had an “internal tear”, which is why she was bleeding (she was still bleeding from this the night AFTER the incident), and on and on. Even the fact that she went to trial, KNOWING how much the odds were stacked against her, counts.

She was in the witness box for 8 days. She was the one on trial here, not those guys. The defence’s line of questioning was degrading and insulting, and designed to shame, humiliate and sully her, and drag her reputation to the gutter. We look back in horror at our dark Magdalen Laundries past – have we really moved on at all?

A big concern I’m left with is the message to men: “it’s almost impossible to prove, lads. Your word against hers. Just call her a liar; the system will do the rest.” Well, it worked for the now POTUS, on camera admitting to sexual assault, and still elected.

Those guys may have walked free, but anyone who read their text exchange knows what they think of women. At least they can never escape the facts of those exchanges, laid out in black and white. And no, that’s not just “banter”; I refuse to normalise that behaviour by calling it that. It’s toxic, and it’s dangerous.

As for that girl, broken all over again… I hope that the knowledge that so many believe her (and I am one of those) helps to give her strength moving forwards.

Really informative article:

https://www.irishtimes.com/news/crime-and-law/inside-court-12-the-complete-story-of-the-belfast-rape-trial-1.3443620?mode=amp

And then there were 4…

Yes, this is not a drill… 4 weeks left to the London Marathon!!

With my longest run now under my belt, I thought I’d reflect on the last 5 months of marathon training.

What I’ve learned:

  1. Running is hard, but the feeling after a run, once it’s done, is hard to beat!
  2. Running very long distances is still easier (and often less tiring) than dealing with three-year-old twins!!!
  3. Having a week-by-week fitness schedule in place is the only possible way for me to fit training in and around work, kids, and all the other crazy drama going on in our lives
  4. In this phase of my life, audio books and podcasts are way more my thing when running as opposed to music. I’ve been on some really interesting journeys on my runs through my phone. Makes me think back to my last marathon, 11 years ago, and training with a Discman!!
  5. Planning very long running routes in London around a public water tap/toilets is not easy! Thank you, Regent’s Park Hub, which has been a bit of a saviour to me
  6. Annoyingly, as your mileage goes up for marathon training, and your nutrition needs to increase to compensate, weight loss may slow; it has for me anyway. I’ve lost a good chunk of weight over the past 5 months, and feel my health/fitness has improved, but after the marathon know that what will be best for me and my weight loss journey is taking back the distance a bit, and mixing in another exercise one/twice a week, eg Zumba, HIIT
  7. Running is really, really good for stress. I’m now 8 months alcohol-free, and I’ve tried to train myself to reach for the trainers rather than a glass of wine when in the midst of high-level stress, or after a really tough day with the kids. Ironically, going for a run makes me feel more energised and able to deal with everything I’m juggling
  8. Social media accounts, like on Instagram and various running pages like Run Mummy Run and This Mum Runs London, are really motivating to follow. I’m so much more likely to put the trainers on, if I’ve been deliberating whether to run or not, if I’ve seen someone else has been able to suck it up and get out there. Particular useful during the horrendous weather of late!
  9. Good trainers are a must! I went to Runners World in King’s Cross, and had gait analysis done there, and it was so useful hearing the feedback, and learning where my foot needs to be supported (incidentally inside of the back of the heel as otherwise my foot goes in a little)
  10. The generosity of my friends and family continues to amaze me: from my husband’s support, taking the twins at the weekend after a busy week so I can run; to those who have sponsored me, donating money to the amazing cause that is Great Ormond Street Children’s Hospital Charity. Thank you everyone. ❤️

Here’s to the final 4 weeks of training!!!

International Women’s Day… equality for women, yes, but basic human rights for Irish women while you’re at it too, please #repealthe8th

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My social media today has been mostly filled with two cries:

  • 1) UK: International Women’s Day > let’s celebrate women, and continue the fight for equality;
  • 2) Ireland: Repeal the 8th Amendment, in light of today’s march and ahead of May’s referendum > please recognise Irish women’s basic human rights, and vote to repeal the 8th amendment, even if you personally are morally opposed to abortion.

As an Irish mother living in the UK – a country that trusts its women to make the right decisions for themselves – it staggers me that, in the 21st century, women in Ireland are still fighting for basic rights when it comes to their own bodies and reproductive systems, so I thought I’d pen a few words, especially about my own pretty traumatic pregnancy experience in the UK, where thankfully my rights were recognised.

In 1918, women fighting for their right to vote shouted: “Votes for Women”. In 2018, Irish women shout: “Votes for Repeal.” The 8th amendment’s constitutional protection for a foetal right to life has jeopardised the health and lives of Irish women, as many doctors – knowing they face a potential sanction of life imprisonment – fail to perform terminations for women even when they meet the criterion under which it’s currently permissible. The tragic death of Savita Halappanavar in 2012 is perhaps the most famous recent example of this, when a life-saving termination was denied to her, and she died, an inquest found, from sepsis, e-coli and miscarriage.

The constrains of the 8th amendment are far-reaching. For example, I remember being in university in Ireland in the early 2000s, and being in a position to want/need the morning-after pill. It’s worth noting that this is something that in the UK you can buy over the counter at a pharmacy. Your protection fails etc, and with one tablet, taken within a couple of days, it means that a pregnancy doesn’t result from that mistake. In Ireland? The university doctor I went to refused me, saying she “didn’t morally agree with that” and sent me on my merry way. After all, I’d made my bed and so should lie in it, eh? Good old Ireland. I would argue – and did, not that it did any good – that surely her moral beliefs should be irrelevant in a medical situation where someone was asking for a pill to simply prevent a pregnancy from happening. No joy, and so I had to seek out another doctor who was willing to actually do their job and recognise my right to make this kind of decision for myself about my own body. This is 8th Amendment Ireland. Hardly surprising I left as soon as I could.

Last month ministers approved the draft wording of a bill to hold the vote on repealing the Eighth Amendment. If passed, the constitutional ban on abortion would be replaced with a new amendment stating that “provision may be made by law for the regulation of termination of pregnancies”. This would mean that abortion would no longer be regulated by constitutional law and instead would be set by the Oireachtas. And the thing is: it’s not just about abortion, which so many of the “pro-life” anti-choice folk seem to forget… the reason there has been a call for the repeal of the Eighth Amendment to the Irish Constitution is so that full reproductive health services, including access to abortion, can be made available in line with best medical practice, international human rights norms and the will of the majority of people in Ireland. In order to make any changes to legislation, the Eighth Amendment has to be repealed. Women’s lives matter too.

The petition to repeal the Eighth Amendment states that the Eight Amendment equates the right to life of a pregnant woman with that of an embryo or foetus. In doing so it criminalises abortion in all cases except where to continue a pregnancy would result in death. his archaic and dangerous law:

– infringes on the human rights of women in Ireland and goes against international human rights norms
– denies access to basic health care, forcing over 154,000 to travel overseas to obtain an abortion since 1980 [1]
– criminalises those who self-administer abortion pills in Ireland
– maintains a false and medically dangerous distinction between risk to health and risk to life
– discriminates against those who cannot travel to obtain abortions
– does not reflect present public opinion in Ireland[2]

[1] http://www.ifpa.ie/Hot-Topics/Abortion/Statistics
[2] http://www.irishtimes.com/news/poll-suggests-strong-support-for-proposed-legislation-1.1426365

I recently had reason to come across another contrast in terms of the way women are treated; my own birth story in the UK only serves to highlight various places the Irish system falls down, by taking choice away from the mother.

In Ireland, if going through the public healthcare channel, thousands of pregnant mothers don’t have access to routine mid-pregnancy scans to check for abnormalities in their babies, including fatal foetal conditions. It’s a lottery as to what maternity unit they happen to be in. Several units, such as Portlaoise Hospital, only carry out the scan for clinical reasons or for women deemed at risk. Of those who happen to be scanned, and tragically have fatal foetal abnormalities detected, some have to travel to Britain for a termination rather than it be offered in Ireland.

Women who aren’t offered the scan run the risk of having a baby whose anomaly has not been diagnosed, which could prove fatal to the baby post-birth. Those who aren’t offered the scan, whose baby has a fatal foetal condition, aren’t given the chance to prepare in advance for the baby’s passing.

This time 4 years ago I was just passed the 20-weeks pregnancy mark with twins, and at the anomaly scan – offered as standard in the UK to everyone – a kidney problem was detected in one twin. It’s worth noting that I was a first-time mum with no previous history, and so, had I been in Ireland having a single pregnancy, it’s very possible this 20-week scan wouldn’t even have been offered to me, and this anomaly never detected. This scan, and the early detection of my son’s problem, is the reason he’s alive today.

I was scanned frequently after this point, with Great Ormond Street Hospital involved for the rest of the pregnancy. Post-birth he seemed totally fine, and didn’t have any worrying symptoms, but a scan and subsequent blood test a few days after birth – which had been arranged because of the anomaly scan – showed severe renal failure, and what followed was one of the worst 24 hours of my life, where it was hour to hour as to whether he would live or not. He was 5 days old. Due to the amazing medical care he received he pulled through, spending a further couple of days critical, and then another month in hospital, before being released with complex medical needs requiring a huge amount of specialist care/medicine etc, and the knowledge a kidney transplant would be needed in early childhood.

But where my picture varies mostly to my Irish counterparts is what happened immediately after the 20-week scan.

We were given the available information, and ultimately I was given the choice about how to proceed. The doctors told us what they could, and trusted us to assess that within the context of the reality we were living (i.e. jobs, money, responsibility to other kids we might have already had, our mental health history, ability to cope, family support etc). They were realistic about how – if the child was born with severe kidney problems – it would be something that would have a life-changing impact on the family, and we were gently encouraged to think of things from all angles before deciding what was best for us. At no point were we swayed, and our right to make the best decision for us was totally respected.

Ultimately we decided to continue with the pregnancy, having the advantage over some of being a two-parent family, having reliable income, a house we own (well, have a mortgage on), no other kids depending on us, no other disabled kids/family members who depend on us.

And that was the right decision for us then, and not something we’d change/regret, but I can hand-on-heart say that having twins where one has a life-threatening chronic illness and requires a huge amount of medical attention, when you don’t have family living close to you, is not something everyone would be in the situation to cope with.

And if parents know in advance that what they’re facing isn’t something they will cope with, for whatever the reason specific to them, I don’t understand why they should be forced down a road they know they won’t be able to deal with.

People say, shur family/friends will rally round etc, but in reality? Do more than a handful offer actual physical tangible help when you’re in a constant/day-after-day long-term battle? The answer, simply, is no. People have their own lives, and you’re expected to get on with it. At one of my broken moments, 7 months in, trying to get a family member to understand how bad things were and how much I was drowning, trying to cope with everything (we’d just had a house fire for good measure), they kindly reminded me that it had been my decision to get pregnant… my husband and I had chosen to go down this road, hadn’t we. There was another bed I’d made, so lie in it.

Again, the decision we made that terrible day was the right decision for us and me then. And it’s easy for some to say, see, it all worked out, didn’t it? You didn’t have a mental breakdown, did ye? And you’re just about coping, aren’t ye? But let’s play devil’s advocate…

What if I got pregnant with twins again, in London with no family around, already having twins where one needs a transplant soon, and both twins I was carrying had the same life-threatening condition as my son? Do I think I would cope then? Realistically: No. Do I think I would be able to properly care for the kids I have who already exist? No. I imagine the decision I would make second time round would have to be different to first time round, if I was going to be able to properly care for the kids I already have. My kids – who have been born, are alive and are here now and need my care – are my priority, and they have a right to be cared for to the best of my ability.

But none of that would come into it in Ireland. The choice wouldn’t be mine, even though I’m 100% the best person to make that decision. Why are women in Ireland not trusted enough to know what is the right decision for them? In Ireland the Eight Amendment equates the right to life of a pregnant woman with that of an embryo or foetus, but from the second she’s pregnant in Ireland that woman comes second.
In January the Cabinet agreed to hold a referendum on repealing the Eighth Amendment before the end of May.

I urge you to consider how this amendment:

  • represses the woman’s right over her own body/reproductive system, and the choices she’s free to make in the pregnancy;
  • allows doctors make decisions biased by their own personal beliefs on the system, refusing some women the right to birth control/the morning after pill, which have life-changing consequences for the woman;
  • denies women across to the country access to a consistent level of antenatal care (e.g. 20-week anomaly scan, which can actually save children’s lives);
  • exports the issue rather than dealing with it.

Pease consider voting to repeal the Eighth Amendment to allow the government to introduce legislation that ensures the human rights of women in Ireland are no longer being infringed on, and that this law no longer goes against international human rights norms. Only with repeal of the Eighth Amendment can we begin to change our abortion laws and provide full reproductive healthcare for women and girls in Ireland. No woman should be forced to leave the country for the healthcare they deserve and are entitled to.

On March 8th, women in Ireland will march for our right to choice in the future. I’ll be with you all in spirit, ladies.

Her body. Her choice. My vote.