I beg God to keep Shayna out of my way, keep traffic out of my way, and most of all to keep my frail dad alive as we rush to Christchurch Women’s Hospital where I beg the nurses for medicine. I’m a mum today. Two kids at 18: Artie and Crystal.
I don’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing that Shayna’s scared the babies out of me. Good or bad, it has happened, and time only goes one way.
The doctors have said about a thousand times that there is ‘absolutely nothing wrong’ with my babies. I never thought there would be, so why do they keep saying that like I’m some special retard? I guess it’s my tats that make the nurses think my wrong-ness is gonna transfer to the babies. My piercings. Or they can just smell lowlife on me. Smell Manchester Street. I have photos on the NZ Girls’ websi
