delivery

‘I stood in line, filling the medication that would remove the life within me. I looked at my fiancé. ‘I’m going home and grabbing my camera.’ If I didn’t do this, I’d regret it for the rest of my life.’

“I headed to the hospital. I remember being in the room, feeling blood dripping from my body. I watched my friend’s body bleed simultaneously, signs of life, as she waited to bring her baby into the world. A life leaving and a life beginning all in the same room at the same moment. I was transfixed.”

‘Motherhood is really tough.’ You’d think, ‘Well that’s crap.’ Birth was traumatic. As a child of sexual abuse, a traumatic birth can be very re-triggering. I didn’t count on that.’

“I expected to be handed my baby like I was Beyoncé in a floral garden and the heavens open up. Instead, I felt like a potato cake seagulls were fighting over, one stitching me up, one folding my boob like a hamburger to stuff in my baby’s mouth, and one pressing so hard on my stomach I thought she was going to touch my spine. Yep, didn’t count on that.”

‘I’m not attached to my baby. There, I said it.’

“It’s a harsh reality to admit, and I’m sure I’ll get a few gasps. But it’s the honest truth. And I know I’m not alone. I shrug off compliments from strangers about my pregnancy. This is my coping mechanism.”

‘You catch this baby, or I will.’ My son’s father fainted. He woke up, saw our newborn, then left to smoke. He returned smelling of cheap beer and cigarettes.’

“‘I’m taking our son,’ he said. It was snowing and he was wasted. ‘He will not take my child like this.’ My grandmother walked in from church. ‘Take my son and lock yourself in your room!,’ I screamed. He got in his car and sped off, fish-tailing down the snow-covered road. Hours later, he returned.”

For our best love stories, subscribe to our free email newsletter: