Recent events.

Just so you know.  

edit:  Thank you for your overwhelmingly lovely comments.  Apologies for the cynical introduction.  Rubbish mood and was dreading writing this post as anticipated abuse.

I believe that the private life should be private.  There are things I will not discuss here, and that’s the way I like it.  There’s a lot of reasons why; just that some things are personal, sometimes I worry about other people’s reactions, and so on.  I used to be much more open and write about everything, but as I’ve become older and more independant, I’m more selective.

Sometimes I wonder if I have prostituted pain for the sake of this blog.  That I have shared too much of myself.  It’s a cynical view but there is an undeniably voyeuristic element to mental health blogging.  When someone is disintegrating, we check back often; in part to see if they’re okay, and in part to see if they’re not.  It is human.

I’ve been writing this blog for over two years, and you probably understand some things about me, and have a grasp on what sort of person I am.  But it is still, in part, a story.  As all lives are.  People will dip in and out of here in a way that they couldn’t if they existed in my real life.  It can become fiction. So it can cheapen experience, because it is only really real to me.   So I hesitate in sharing some things, because I don’t want it to be just a thing.  

I’ve been alluding to things not being great over here, and I haven’t wanted to discuss them.  Not in real life and particularly not on this blog.   I haven’t known how to talk about it, and have felt that if I did, it cheapen my feelings on it, and I have not wanted to invite comment or judgement.  Most people know now, when it was happening, a few people knew and I have had their support and love.   I haven’t felt like answering the phone much but my sisters especially have been with me through it all.

But I feel that if I don’t talk about it here, I will never be able to write in this blog again, and that I will never be able to be honest with you again.   I don’t want to pretend that nothing has happened, because something has happened and it’s not a little thing that will slip for me and leave me blissfully unaffected.  And it is relevant.  

For the past month I have been suffering from bone-snapping exhaustion that has left me borderline functioning.  And there were other things, and I wasn’t sick and it was the obvious cause all along.

I was pregnant.  And I’m not anymore.

I had a termination at six weeks.  It was the hardest and most heartbreaking decision I have ever had to make in my entire life, and I am not okay.  

I have always wanted to be a mother.  I had a miscarriage two years ago.  It was very early, before I even know I was pregnant, but it made me think about motherhood.  I have PCOS, which makes it difficult to conceive, but losing a large amount of weight seems to have almost banished the symptoms.  I can’t adopt.  

I thought that when it happened, I’d be happy, and I’d know that I could cope and that somehow everything would be okay.  I even thought that if it happened now, while I’m twenty three, it would be okay.  That I would have this gut instinct that told me it would be okay.

I have apologised every single day.  I’m so sorry because it won’t be okay. It would never be okay.  And I can’t do it and I’m sorry that I can’t do it.

From the beginning of my treatment, I have been warned against becoming pregnant.  It is so very dangerous for women with psychotic illnesses.  The six weeks of my pregnancy gave me a tiny glimpse into the possibilities, the thing I had feared so much.  That I would become seriously ill.  And that I might hurt myself or my child.  The hormones affected my moods so badly.  I came closer to self harm than I have done in over a year.  I wanted to kill myself.  I fantasised about hanging myself.  I couldn’t sleep.  I didn’t want to see anybody.  I cried and everything set me off, I screamed and raged.   I started to drink.

And already within six weeks my body started changing.  I have put on half a stone and my legs began to swell up.  I found it utterly traumatising because it was all for nothing.   And I found it traumatising because I have BDD and it terrified me to watch my stomach and breasts grow when I couldn’t do anything about it and when there was no reason.

I am not well enough to have a child, or to raise one.  I’m a rational person but when I am very ill, I am not rational.  My stability is being held together with scotch tape at the moment.  I could not bring a child into this world when it might not even have a mother, and when I might hurt it.  My granny hurt my mum.  My mum hurt my sister.  The gamble that I would kill myself or hurt my child was too huge to take, as was the certainty of my inability to even provide for it.  I’m twenty three and on benefits.  I live in a small one bedroomed flat and none of that is going to change anytime soon.  I cannot gamble with a life.  And I am not ready, in any shape or form.

And Rob knew it too.  As did everybody close to me.  And it broke our fucking hearts.  

I have never felt more of a failure in my life.  Around the same time this happened, my housing benefit was stopped.  So on the day I had to take the first pill, I dragged myself to the benefits office to sort it out (and it still isn’t).  I wanted to throw myself in traffic because of the acute failure I felt.    I have a risk assessment that deems me a risk to others.  I am covered in scars and there are people who think I’m insane.  I am not insane, not crazy, not mad, but not able to have a child.

I want to one day.  We both want to one day.  I want the day to come where I can do it, where I have the deep, abiding instinctual certainty that I would be a wonderful mother.  The certainty, and the instinct, was not there.  And I was too afraid to even talk about being pregnant because I didn’t want to begin to get excited over something I knew I couldn’t do.  So I didn’t.  I cancelled all my CPN appointments and shut myself away and just dealt with what I had to do.  And it was harder because we’ve been together for four years and have talked about having children.  This wasn’t just a whoops slip up with a one night stand.  We wanted to be happy that I was pregnant instead of knowing that if we had a child right now we’d ruin our lives and theirs.

I’m Catholic and I know all the pro-life perspectives on abortion. It’s one of the reasons I have found this so hard.   I’m an atheist but that morality has never left me.  I had the medical abortion (the pill, which was so painful I nearly went into shock.  I couldn’t cry, I couldn’t scream, I just wanted help and for it to stop) because it felt more natural.  This is not what I wanted in my life.  I could have been selfish and had the baby and risked it.  But I knew and Rob knew and the CPN knew that the risk was too great.  And I would never be able to give up a child for adoption.

People who want to judge me, just don’t bother because you have no idea what I’m going through.  I did not make this decision lightly.  It ripped me apart to make it and both Rob and I have been crying.  It was only six weeks but it was still something.  But you tell me how I bring a child into the world that I can’t afford to feed and clothe, with a pregnancy that might kill me, with an illness I have to cope with for the rest of my life, with medications I wouldn’t be able to take, with the very real risk that I would hurt the child.  Tell me how I would do that.  Just hope and wish it would work out?  It wouldn’t.  And what an enormous gamble to even make.  If I fuck up and die, then that’s my life, and everyone around me will be devastated but they will cope and be able to continue their lives.  But I cannot do that to a child that I bought into this world.  And it isn’t fair because I wish it was different.

I have been crying and raging for the past couple of weeks.  If I sound angry, it’s because I am, in part at myself, and in part because I know that writing here is going to illicit some judgemental responses and that it’s a dream for those out there who hate me and like to tell me so.  But these past few weeks have been absolutely awful.

So that’s what’s been going on. Pretty much everyone knows about it now.   I have been logical and reasonable and am just trying to get through it, I am absolutely sure it was the right decision but it doesn’t mean that I am not devastated that I had to make that decision in the first place.  The only saving grace is that it has bought me and Rob closer together but I have no idea how I’m going to feel when this is physically over, hopefully I’ll be okay.  I don’t know how I’ll feel in the long run.  At the moment I’m just very sad.   I do know it was the right thing to do.   I don’t want to pretend that this hasn’t happened because it did.  And I don’t want to pretend that it was a little thing for me, because it wasn’t.

89 Responses

  1. I’m very sorry.

  2. There isn’t much a reader can say, is there? I am very sorry, too. I can’t even begin to imagine how you’re feeling. I hope so much that no one has the nerve to criticize your very personal and difficult decision.

  3. Sincerest Hugs to you, hoping that hugs from a stranger are not too weird.
    I have been reading your blog only recently. I don’t know why but I do feel like a voyer, and that you dont know who I am. Hopefully I can redress the voyer balance by pointing you at some things I have written :
    What you told us today has touched me particularly deeply. One of the reasons for reading your blog is because I love a woman who can’t be mine – and who dosn’t blog and rarely communicates. She shares some of your battles in life.
    She too has told me of her lost babies. What more can I say? I feel for you.

  4. Oh Seaneen, you poor thing. I don’t know what to say, just … ((hug)) which looks so bloody stupid in print but is strongly meant. Rob too. Just. Christ.

  5. I’m very sorry to hear you are going through such a hard time in your life. I’m sorry to hear you are not okay.

    I hope you will be able to feel less anger towards yourself because I know how hard a Catholic upbringing can be to ‘shake off’, even when you’ve stopped believing.

    Please don’t think you have to blog about things that you prefer to remain private, if it will hurt you in the long term.

    I know there’s nothing I can say of use. I just hope you can get the right help to see you through this. It’s a traumatic event for any woman, let alone the additional complication of being a woman who happens to have a mental health issue.

    Take care xxx

  6. Brave to post this Seaneen, not because of what others will think of you, because I doubt there are many who would have disagreed with your decision, but for what it means to you to share this. This must have been really, really hard, and I respect you for that. Not just the termination, but for writing about it here, which takes self analysis, and touching on a huge amount of emotion.

    We always judge ourselves harder than any critic, but when faced with an impossible decision, the aftermath is horrendus. You haven’t done anything wrong. You really haven’t. Me saying that’s not going to make much difference to how you feel, I just hope you can find a little peace. Be kind to yourself, you don’t deserve punishment for this, but sympathy, and care.

    Lola x

  7. I don’t know what to say, other than that I’m sorry.

  8. Oh Seaneen, how heartbreaking for both of you. You are both (and the baby) all in my thoughts.

    Be kind to yourself. And remember that doing the right thing doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy.

    I am so sorry you had to go through this and make such a tough decision. You are so brave.

  9. I have such a huge amount of sympathy, respect and love for you and hope you can cope and survive this horrid, painful time. I am impressed you could write about this and think you are so brave for sharing. I’m thinking of you and Rob. Take care xxx

  10. You are a very strong person. I hope that knowing you made the right decision will eventually bring you peace. Hugs and support to you and your family….

  11. i’m so sorry hun

    x x x x

  12. I’m sorry.

    My mother didn’t want me. No, not the pregnancy, but *me* I was not the child she wanted. She wanted one without medical problems, one that was popular and pretty. She
    Has resented me my whole life and done some pretty unforgiveable things to me. But she’s also mentally unstable living in a world of her own.

    If she’d have chosen not to have me, and to have instead got help for her problems, it would have been the right thing to do. Even though it would have meant never coming into existence, I can see that.

    I think you did the right thing. Absolutely. It’s not the fact that you’re not mother material, just that you aren’t in the right place in your life. You’ve said previously that your overall mental health is better than two years ago, so maybe in a few or several more years, presuming your mental health improves and your life is more stable, you will be able to have a child.

    I hope it gets easier. I really do.

    • I was also unfortunate to have been born to a woman without the choice to protect the individual during the earliest moments of care and resposibility. I am sure that had my own mother been diagnosed/taken seriously/had the options and support to have controlled our fates then she would have been much healthier and I would not have the daily battles with self loathing that I have to overcome……….Seannean made the absolute best decision and has my utmost support. Cyan I have never read my own thoughts before I realised that I had them, so I thankyou for your honesty and self realisation here today.

  13. I echo Amy’s comment above, and I am so very sorry.

  14. I just wanted you to know that during a maic phase of mine I did risky things and them found out I was pregnant – I found out at 7 weeks.

    I have other medical problems and no one to turn to – I was alone in my decition not to go through with it and I live with it every day and its not an easy thing to have to cope with.

    I am truly sorry for it and I know words will do nothing to help you – but one thing you have is Rob – he sound a great person to have so even if your world is shakey hold onto him and tell him your feeling and let him do the same.

    It can bring you closer as it has seem to do and will make your relationship stronger in the long run.

    I hope that you know that it was a very hard choice and not one that some would make but you did it out of love, and thought of the child and it’s future rather than yourself.

    Hope you read this as I know it’s a hard place your in.


  15. God Seaneen, I am so, so sorry, how absolutely heartbreaking this must be for you, this must sound bizarre coming form a total stranger but I just want to dash up to London and look after you. I’ve been reading this blog for well over a year now, you are a truly exceptional person and you handle this illness with outstanding courage.

    Thinking of you.

  16. I’m so sorry

  17. I’ve been there. When I was 17 I had to make a choice. And now that I am 28, I still fear it. I am afraid of having children because I don’t want to subject them to my disease, and I am so afraid of postpartum depression.

    The next few months will be hard as your body readjusts the hormone levels.

    Breathe in and out. Blow off people’s judgments (as much as you can). You’ll make it through. Be strong in your decision—and KNOW—you made the right decision.

  18. I can only echo all the heartfelt comments above. I went through the same thing a few years ago. I didn’t have the support of a loving partner so the only way I could deal with it was to harden myself and act as if it wasn’t and did’nt happen. I didn’t have the balls to ‘feel’ as you are doing now and I often wonder if one day the grief will catch up with me. I am also blessed with a child from a previous relationship which perhaps made the loss easier.
    You don’t need to explain to anyone and no one has the right to judge you. What you did took sense and guts.
    Of course there will be a right time for you. You have incredible self awareness and from where I’m sitting, it seems lke the both of you would make fantastic parents. Bringing up a child in (relative) poverty is tough indeed, let alone with the added stress of mental health issues. It won’t always be this way. No amount of rationalising however, can erase the emotions and the values you have grown up with.
    Look after yourself and use all the support you have. It takes a while for things (hormonal, physical stuff plus the rest) to settle.

  19. Anything I say is going to sound trite because I know there’s nothing to say that will make you feel better. I guess that’s just go to come in time. As Fairy said it was done out of love, nothing else. Look after yourself. Love to both you and Rob x

  20. Like others, there isn’t anything more than I can say except that I’m sorry – it broke my heart to read this post so I can’t even begin to imagine what it must be like. I’m sending all the positive thoughts that it can be possible to muster in your direction.
    Take care.

  21. (hug)

    You’re very brave girl, take care of yourself.

  22. ((Seaneen))

    I think you’ve made a very brave, very mature decision… and that because you thought it through and decided so carefully, you will survive this.

    Heart goes out to you, though…

  23. I don’t know what to say, but I want to say something. I’m so sorry for what you went through and what you now must be going through. Just remind yourself that you did the right thing for yo at this time. I’m thinking of you x

  24. I am so sorry. I completely understand your decision and in my humble opinion you made a wise choice.

  25. Every time I think about how much I love children and always wanted them I then remember the time I was hospitalized and there’s no way a child could understand why mommy had to go away for a little while, and no it’s not their fault, and yes she still loves them, etc.

    Maybe one day, there’ll be meds I can take and be pregnant but today I just have to focus on me and maintaining the good relationships I do have by staying as healthy as I can.

    You made a responsible and brave decision, but I’m terribly sorry for your loss.

  26. So sorry to hear this Seaneen. Thinking of you both and sending ‘HUGS’.

  27. There are no words. Just take care of yourself. You’ve done a wise thing.

  28. Oh Seaneen, I’m so sorry.

    I’m in floods of tears reading this. I wish I could help.

    Please look after yourself. You are a wonderful, wonderful person and I care a lot about you.

    Love you lots,

    L x

  29. I’m so sorry.

  30. Very big, very gentle hugs.

    Be safe.

  31. so, so sorry Neen

  32. You have no reason to feel like a failure. You have responsibly considered the options and probable outcomes; you have put another life before your own even if the Catholics we both grew up with would tell you you didn’t; we know better, you and I. And all your friends. We know that many people with bipolar disorder lack the insight you have, which affords you the opportunity to consider these incredibly significant situations with the best possible perspective.

    Yet no amount of logical encouragement from distant friends is going to mean much to you now; I know that too and I won’t belabor the point I’m making here, only offer you again my good wishes and, for what it’s worth, the certainty that people you don’t know very well are thinking of you.

    And I just hate to see you thinking yourself a failure just because you had to do something so painful and heartwrenching. That is not a comment on you; sometimes all the answers are painful and the best ones can be the worst.

  33. A big hug.

    I never went through it, so I cannot say anything else. I wish I could help, but the only thing I can think of is: if you want to go out and have a cup of tea, you see my email.

  34. I’m so sorry xx

  35. *hug* I’m so sorry…

  36. I’m so sorry to hear that. I’ve thought I was in that position before and while I’ve always supported a woman’s choice, I know damn well it’s a choice I never want to have to make.

    I’d like to offer some optimistic thought like ‘at least now you know you can get pregnant in your own time and season’ but it would probably mean nothing right now.

    Thinking of you. x

  37. I’m so sorry this has happened to you both. You’re not a failure, you’re very strong. Take care of yourself.

  38. I am so sorry, sweetie. Stay strong!

  39. My mother didn’t want me. I was left in the care of social services as a baby, then picked up again when I was three by my father, who proceed to vent all his frustrations and problems on me. I am still not speaking to him because of the abuse he subjected me to- he blamed me for everything that was wrong with his life but it was his choice to look after me in the first place.

    You did the right the right thing. I think our generation is a lot more responsible than the previous one, which basically did what it wanted, I feel some bitterness about this myself, I’d love to have kid(s) but not being able to provide anything for it I am not going to.

    You are anything but a failure, You are a very courageous and good person. It is the selfish sods like my parents, who had me without any kind of plan, then when they got bored abandoned me, then picked me up again so they could have someone to bully who are the losers.

  40. I know that when you are in a certain mode of thinking, other peoples opinions seem useless, but I just wanted to say that I personally feel that even though you were not able to continue with your pregnancy, I would not refer to you as a failure. I think the most important feature of being a mother is putting your child’s interests above your own and I think that you were able to do this. You terminated your pregnancy – despite the trauma – because you felt that it was in the best interests of your child. To have kept the child may have given you instant gratification, but you were able to place this below the potential needs of your child, and if you ask me that in itself is a defining characteristic of motherhood. I don’t mean to sound like a preacher and I understand your need to grieve but I thought I would put my perspective out there.

  41. I am so, so sorry. Like others have said, I hope that you can find peace. X

  42. You’ve made an incredibly selfless decision which makes you a pretty amazing woman, old mucker. Look after yourself over there. xx

  43. I am so sorry. Hugs to you and Rob.

  44. Hope you’re OK. Thinking of you.

  45. I can only imagine what Rob and you have/are going through. Hugs to you both xx

  46. I’m so sorry Seaneen. You and Rob take care.

  47. So sorry to hear about this. You and Rob will be in my thoughts.

    Take care.

  48. So sorry to hear you and Rob are going through this. Take care.

  49. All I can do is echo Holly’s sentiments. I hope you will come to terms with this swiftly, and that you will take care of yourself in the time to come. My best wishes to you and Rob.

  50. Brave post Seaneen (Hugs) x

  51. I’m so sorry you were in this position. It must be heartbreaking. Wishing you well. And someday, the time will be right. You’ve done so much and handled so much.

  52. I’m so sorry. I hope both of you are able to heal in time. It’s so unfortunate. Just know that many people, even us Internet weirdos, do care about you and wish you well.


  53. I didn’t really write much last time it was a case of read and run but your post has been going around in my head for the past few hours and what you and Rob have been through recently and are no doubt still going through must be totally ripping you both apart.

    It must have been an awful thing to have to even mull over for many reasons, one because of your religion, two your strong relationship and desire for children, having PCOS and the past miscarriage but it’s something you have obviously thought about immensely. You said yourself how much in just that short amount of time you changed, you where not only risking your own life but that of your baby and others around you. You have made such a difficult decision but hang on in there and with the love of Rob and your friends I hope you’ll find the strength to get through this in time. Take care Seaneen.


  54. I’m so sorry – that’s an horrendous thing to have to go through and such a difficult decision to make.

    Take care of yourself,

  55. As I was reading, I ached for you. I am so sorry.

  56. I think this long list of support shows that you are someone special in all our lives indeed.

    I’m sure there’s not much that anyone can say that can lessen the pain, but hopefully knowing that people care about you can in some way help you through it.

  57. I am so sorry for your pain. I wish I could help. I’ve worried so much about the possibility that DH would pass on his illness, it never crossed my mind the things that would come alone with a bipolar woman becoming pregnant….What a heartbreak for you.

    And your well thought out decision says a lot, too.

  58. I truly hope that eventually the right time comes for both of you.


  59. so sorry to read your notice today. I am bi polar and have 3 children. I struggle daily with the guilt i feel about having children. Had i been diagnosed early enough i would have stayed childless, but would have felt crap about that too.
    I send you a hug

  60. Stay strong. Both you and your thoughts are important.

  61. What you did was brave, responsible and strong. Well done! Facing up to recent events confirms all of that. You’re a very special person with a huge amount of guts.

    I genuinely hold a lot of respect for you.

    A hug

  62. Really, really sorry to read what you are going through. I don’t think writing about it cheapens it one iota and I don’t have to know you to know you are NOT a failure. I had a termination when I was much younger and am still haunted by the memory and heathbreak as I didn’t tell my family, but I do know I did the right thing. I wish you all the love in the world – and the love of a good man and sisters such as you have – to help you take each day as it comes. I am a newcomer to this blog but like the commenter above have a great deal of respect for you. xx

  63. Dear Seaneen,

    All my hugs. I can’t begin to imagine what you are going through. Thinking of you.


  64. So sad reading your post. I think what you did was very, very brave.

  65. I know nothing can take away the emotions, so I’ll just say thinking of you.

  66. Wish you some peace right now. Don’t ever beat yourself up. You did the right thing. I’m sorry you had to go through it.

  67. Seaneen, sorry you had to go through this. Sending my love to you.

    Sis xxx

  68. I can’t imagine the amount of tears you shed just trying to write that post.

    Seaneen, I am so sorry.

  69. Am thinking of you and Rob,
    Take Care,

  70. There but for the grace of God…

    Thinking of both you and Rob.

  71. I felt many things in response to your post. Mostly I would like to think, empathy for you and Rob.

    You have acted courageously and with wisdom. You knew with certainty what had to occur.

    In the aftermath, keep in mind these comments. I may never meet you, but I would venture to say I care for you rather deeply. We all do it seems. Keep writing and sharing with us what you will.

  72. I’m so sorry you had to go through that. My thoughts and love are with you and Rob. *hugs*

  73. I know this is an old post but I wanted to throw in some more support. I think you made a responsible decision, and I hope you are able to be less hard on yourself as time goes on. Please try to be kind for yourself…I know you are going through an extremely difficult time now, so take it easy. You two will pull through it. And don’t let the haters get you down.

  74. I realize this post is a bit old at this point, but I wanted to comment, anyway. I know we don’t know each other extremely well or anything, but if you ever need someone to talk to about this, feel free to contact me. I went through this same thing last summer. I don’t want to go into a crapload of detail about my experience here, but I definitely can relate to what you wrote, so if you ever need to talk to someone else who has been there then I’m here for you. xx

  75. Have very recently found your site, but have been reading constantly and felt moved to comment. I’m scared of puerperal psychosis and what you did was extremely brave and well-considered. I’m just sorry you had to go through it. Thinking of you.

  76. Oh girl, I’ve been away. I’m so sorry. I went through this at 15 – undiagnosed but raging with symptoms anyway and knowing bone deep that there was no way I could be a decent mother. It’s hard. But sometimes it’s just the best of all the things we can do. Sending you vHugs.

  77. i’ve been so far behind on everything recently and so have only just read this. I can’t imagine how hard this must have been for you. Massive, MASSIVE hugs for you and Rob. I know that the nature of your blog is that people dip in and out but for me, and i believe for the almost everyone who comments here, you’re certainly not a fictional character or a ‘thing’. Reading feels like catching up with a friend rather than following a drama. I know you’ve done the right thing for yourselves and you’re the only ones who could have made that decision.

    Sorry this is late, but i promise no less heartfelt. X

  78. As others have said, it’s a heartbreaker. I suffer unipolar depression and have decided it wouldn’t be right for me to have a child. The way I look at it is, there’s some chance any child I might have would not suffer as I have, but that I’m rolling the dice on someone else’s behalf. It isn’t me that lives with the consequences, it’s another human being. As much as I might love them I wouldn’t be able to fix them in the way that I would most wish to.

    Another big hug from me.

  79. Oh geez, Seaneen, I wish the tears in my eyes at the moment could be shown to you through this friggin’ monitor. I feel for you & with you on so many levels. I am sorry for the pain you have felt through this whole experience & what you will continue to feel. I hope that you find healing & a path to some peace. I understand the decisions you made & have been there myself. I realize it may not be any consolation but know that you are not alone. I am on your friend list on FB & you have my email addy. If you ever want to share with someone who has an inkling of what you’re going through PLEASE do not hesitate to reach out to me. I’d share my story but I don’t want this to be some sort of mental masturbation when all I want to do is reach out to you. Please know that you are loved by many who have never been able to give you a physical hug.

  80. Seaneen, heard the beginning of the Afternoon Play today and had to stop listening to look you up (will listen to the whole thing properly later). Found this. I’m so sorry for you. What a terrible decision for you to have to make. I know you know you’ve done the wise thing for you and Rob and your child, but that knowledge doesn’t stop you hurting. I do hope that with time, you will feel able to bring a child into the world. But I understand your terrible pain (I lost two babies I desperately wanted, though it’s not really comparable to what you had to do) and the effect a Catholic upbringing will be having on you, on top of having to do something you didn’t want to do in the first place.
    Look after yourself, please try not to drink too too much though it’s understandable you want to escape. I can’t say any more, I’m crying for you as if you were my daughter. And for Rob, too, of course, people forget how bad it is for the father. Hugs to you both.

  81. Just reconnected with your blog and am so sorry you’ve had to go through this. I lost a much wanted baby ten years ago and I thought I would die of heartbreak. Ten years later I can see it was for the best. Please know my thoughts are with you and Rob, and that time does take away the pain. I can watch little kids in the park play and feel happy that I’ve not brought one into the world where I can’t be the best mom possible. Please take care of yourself. Much love.

  82. […] PDRTJS_settings_642024_post_6204 = { "id" : "642024", "unique_id" : "wp-post-6204", "title" : "On+or+around+the+2nd+of+December+2009", "item_id" : "_post_6204", "permalink" : "" } I might have been a mum by now. […]

  83. I have come back and read this post having just read what you wrote about Dec 2nd. I’m offering a squeeze of your hand to let you know that I understand the guilt, longing, sorrow and mourning that you have written about so bravely. I am fortunate to have 3 children but I only just held onto my mind and that was perfectly ‘normal’ post natal depression. Then I was assaulted 5 anda half years ago and it left me pregnant and I knew that I couldn’t progress the pregnancy and I terminated it. I have constantly wondered and constantly questioned my decision ever since and in my darkest moments of frustration at having to carry on and lead a normal life as far as my 3’s ‘Mum’ is concerned I have even wished that I had finished us both off instead of choosing. It does get easier between anniversaries – try and remember all of the reasons why you protected the child and although this time isn’t right, my fingers are crossed for you that you will be able to have a baby and be able to do so in a safe environment. I hope you can seek even the smallest amount of respite from the sorrow by recieving my empathy xx

  84. I read your words and they break my heart.

    In 2003, I had a miscarriage in the April (due to abuse), and later that year a termination, for different reason to you. I was with a man who saw fit to beat me and threatened to kill my family .. I left him and was sleeping on peoples sofas and out a suitcase.. I couldn’t bring a baby in to such a world … I did not take a pill, I had a Dr take my baby out of me .. and even now ..6 years later, the regret, and hurt is still there
    People who judge need to walk a mile in the shoes of the person it’s happened to. It’s very easy for people to sit in front of their computer screens with their holier than thou attitudes. To them I say, fuck you.
    I know it hurts, I know the tears .. you will never forget, but it will become easier.
    You’re a brave beautiful woman. You gave your baby a beautiful gift, your unselfish love. Some babies are not meant to be with us, but to watch over us.

    I’ve lived with depression (they’ve tried to tell me I’m bi-polar, but I won’t have it) for 19 years now, my first pregnancy before the miscarriage make me hideous .. I could barely function. The hormones hit me like a brick wall. It put total fear in me to as if I could ever cope with pregnancy again with out hurting my self or anyone else. I truly could not control my self, my temper, my moods, I felt like I was loosing my mind.
    I was seeing a shrink last year because I was having a tough time and my husband and I were discussing getting pregnant. She told me pregnancy can affect mental health one of two ways .. it can make you really bad, or it can really balance you out…. I refused medication.
    I’m happy to say tho, I had my baby girl 11 weeks ago, and girl … the pregnancy .. of course I had the odd tearful day … but for the first time I can ever remember, I felt … normal .. what ever that is. I felt clear minded, happy .. I didn’t feel like hurting my self .. I find it hard to put in to words because I’d never felt such an long uninterrupted period free of depression.

    You’re a beautiful person and when the time is right for you to bring a life in to the world, you’ll know it and you’ll love that baby with every ounce of your being and be the most perfect mother.

  85. FWIW, I agree with Michelle.

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