A Mother’s Tragedy



You were the victim of being artificially inseminated against your will… you were not ready for the gruelling procedure that awaited. Whilst you tried to exclaim, to plead with them to stop… they would not listen. It was over in a few minutes but it felt like hours.

You find yourself with child. Not something you had planned just yet, and certainly not in that way but now it’s happened, the happiness seeps in.

As your baby grows inside you, you grow attached. Forming emotional bonds that only a mother and child can experience. You feel their movements. You nourish them. You are growing a little you and keeping it alive and kicking is your main priority, in fact it’s a natural instinct.

Things don’t feel right today. Movement. Pain. You realise this is it, the moment you will get to meet your child. There are others there but you pay them no attention. Your focus on delivering baby safe and sound.

After some time they arrive, crashing into the world. A little bundle of pure joy. All legs and no balance. You are instantly in love. You go to feed them, to nourish their body in a different way now. But you notice the others edging closer. You realise they are the people that hurt you. Panic sets in and your absolute need to protect is triggered. They cannot do this to your baby, you won’t allow it.

But they’re quick, quicker than you. Within seconds the baby is pummelled into a vehicle and driven away. You can hear them calling. You call back, telling them it’s going to be okay, that you will get them back and they will be safe. But this is not a promise you can keep. You plead with the people to return your baby. Screaming, crying, begging – but they do not.

They beat you back into your room. Refusing to listen.

For days you call out, hoping that someone will answer you. Let you know that your baby is alright, at the very least. They don’t speak your language. It’s out of your control. You feel hopeless.

During this time they hook machines onto your breasts. They pump the milk made for your precious baby. You try to resist but your efforts are futile. Further beatings, until compliance is the only option.

Finally when the milk is dry you feel a strange sense of hope. Hope that this is over. That maybe you will be released from their clutches at last. They come to move you. Freedom at last! But wait… they’re taking you back towards that room. The room where it all began. This can’t be happening, not again!

But it is. And it continues to happen until 7 fragile and helpless babies are snatched from you. Until you are unable to produce any more. You realise that despite it all, the heartache, the pain, it is you’re time to be free. You’re a broken woman but at least you can live out your final days in the sun, honouring your 7 beautiful children and praying for a day when you are all reunited.

You’re only 5 years old. There’s still a good 13 years left in you if the average life span is anything to go by. You let your thoughts drift here, imagining what it’ll be like.

Soon they come for you. You walk past the room where it all began and breathe a sigh of relief. But as you get closer to the exit, you hear a commotion. Screaming and shouting. What on earth is going on? And then you see it. A trailer filled to the brim with others like you. Surely you cannot fit on there? But you do. They beat you until you do. Everyone is panicking but nobody knows why. You realise that your travel companions are all mothers too. Mothers who’ve had their children ripped away. You begin a journey to the unknown, together.

The truck starts to slow. You can see greenery all around. This must be it.

Suddenly in your vision is a steely building. Why are they taking you in there? Are you being let free or not?

As the doors open you catch a glimpse of the horrors inside. There was panic before but this is complete chaos. Everyone is trying to break free. Tears streaming. It can’t be. Who would do this?

You notice a pen off to the side filled with babies. Babies just like yours. Realisation hits that your own children are not okay. They were never going to be okay. This is where they came and this is where you’re going.

It’s brutal. It’s terrifying. It’s excruciating.

And then it’s over. No more pain. No more terror. But the Adrenalin lives on in your flesh. That pure fear can never be distinguished.

What could have been a beautiful life; abused, then taken too soon. But this is not a special case. It’s happening every day. To millions. And for what?

A glass of milk and a bit of steak!


If you made it to the end of this then well done! It’s not pretty and it’s not for the faint hearted. Of course what I’ve written here is a “fictional” tale, following the life of a dairy cow. But there are certainly truths involved.

For a while now I’ve wanted to write my thoughts on how, as a female who has become more aware of the dairy industry, it is extra difficult for me to support it, but have been too scared to post anything, worried about the backlash. However it’s something I truly believe – treating any living being this way, taking babies from mothers – it’s completely unnecessary and just doesn’t sit right with me anymore. I always said that I could never give up cheese but the more I looked into where it came from, the less cheese appealed to me.

(Also to be clear I am by no means saying that a male cannot feel appalled by this too, I just believe that a female may relate and connect on a totally different level.)

I have no agenda with these piece. Of course I’d love to live in a vegan world but I’m not a complete idealist, I understand how unlikely that is. By all means live your life how you want. I just wanted to dispel some creativity in a completely new way. A test for a venture I’ve been pondering for a while.

I’ve never considered that I could use my blog as a space for creative writing but it’s definitely something I would consider doing again. I hope you – enjoyed may be the wrong turn of phrase here – appreciated the piece for what it was, may be better.


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