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סיפור ראשון מהפרויקט החדש שלי: "חוויות מחדר לידה"

20 פבר

השבוע עלה טור חדש שלי באון לייף שמתאר אלימות גינקולוגית בחדר לידה. ביקשתי מקוראות לשלוח לי סיפורים. תוך יומיים המייל שלי התמלא. הסיפור הראשון מופיע כאן בצורת שיר באנגלית. הכותבת אישרה את פרסום שמה המלא המופיע כאן.

אם נפגעת במהלך לידה, חווית חוויה טראומטית וצריכה תמיכה רגשית או עזרה משפטית, את יכולה לפנות לקו ליולדת של ארגון "נשים קוראות ללדת": הן שם בשבילך.


I can't resist the temptation to

mess with myself in mind once

I found him eating away the

insides and living between

three hour intervals it's magic

like coming out but from

much darker furniture and

finding the path to incarceration

visiting hours are every three hours

and especially at night

when you're all alone with

what you've created and everything's

torn and the stitches won't ever

mend all the way and no one

will ever be welcome there again.

Becoming an all-you-can-eat-buffet

buy one get one

free it's delicious and fills you up until you

overflow and find yourself in some pit on the

way to absolve him.

How could they do this

on the way in and out rip it apart and leave

it all rotten and pieces

what constitutes a person is well

beyond anything I ever dreamed of.

I have sparks of life

and I can give them out

like candy to little boys

and in life one is surrounded by

men. Some come in and some

out and maybe time is the

space in-between

so I play God with my

sparks – handouts

to those who deserve it?

But how can you tell

once you've been raped

by hospital procedures everything

looks different. Greener.

And everyone is there to see

and all of your secrets come gushing

and everyone knows

and what's yours is his.

I've started a business

lending out body

parts eyes to the sorry

breasts to the infants

and anyone else in the room

mouths are for no one

the smaller you are the more

attention you get

but all of my power was drained

out with my bloodbath