This is a story sent in by one of our lovely readers (who wishes to remain anonymous). In this post, she shares with us the story of one of the hardest times in her life which affected her  for years to come. I hope you enjoy it xx

This is the hardest thing I have ever had to write. Because this story is about the baby I lost by choice.

When you are young, you think you are invincible. You think that you have complete control over your own destiny, and whilst this is true to a point, sometimes the stupidest and most careless decision affects you for the rest of your life.

I made one of those stupid decisions when I was younger. One that has haunted me ever since. I thought that I wouldn’t get pregnant to my boyfriend at the time, so we weren’t remotely careful. Therefore of course I got pregnant.

We had been together for about four months, and even though it wasn’t very long we thought ourselves to be in love. Man, we were so young and so clueless, I mean, we were still babies ourselves back then.

When I first suspected I was pregnant, I didn’t say anything to him. I lay in his bedroom in the dark and cried, holding my stomach while he watched tv in the living room. I shouldn’t even say that I “suspected” because deep down I knew. I could FEEL a little presence inside my body. I knew with every inch of me that I was pregnant. But I didn’t want it to be true. I was too young and too scared. So I lay there, holding onto where this little human lay inside me and I cried.

I went to a friend’s house to take the test officially.

I didn’t want to do the test with him there as I didn’t want to face his reaction. I didn’t want to see his own fear reflecting mine, and yet I didn’t want to see any joy either. It was lose/lose for him. Either reaction would have killed me. And I already hated him no matter what for it.

So I sat in my friend’s bedroom, with her holding my hand as we anxiously awaited the results. We saw the test result come back positive, and from that point on, my world crumbled and went black.

I could feel myself unravelling with fear. I screamed until my lungs were numb. I cried on my poor friends shoulder until I felt completely empty and drained. I wanted to die. I wanted this nightmare to end already.  I couldn’t face the reality and the stupidity of my own mistakes.

I kept praying to God that it wasn’t true. That somehow I could get out of it. That it was a mistake. That it was happening to someone else, not me. Please oh please don’t let this be real. I’ll do anything for it to not be real.

But it was real. And I had to make a decision.

He and I had been so careless and so stupid. We couldn’t have this baby, we just couldn’t. We couldn’t even take care of ourselves, how could we ever take care of another human being?

So I told him. And I told him that I couldn’t keep it. I couldn’t even look him in the eyes as I said it. But it didn’t matter, because he agreed with me. We wouldn’t keep it. He feared it too, and as he said it I felt relief, heartbreak and hatred all in that one moment.

The choice was made

We started to fight about the stupidest things and we clung to each others annoying little habits until we were completely consumed by resentment for one another. Those minor annoyances, coupled with the absolute enormity of what was happening to us, were driving us towards the end. It was too much. Our hearts were full of confusion, desperation, terror and hatred, and it was just to damn much to deal with.

And I remember one day right towards the end, when he stepped up and drove me to a doctor’s appointment. I don’t know what triggered the fight, but we screamed at each other in sickness and fear the whole way. I ended up getting out of the car and making my own way home before we even got there, not realising for a second that it would be the final straw for us. We had reached the end.

Because after that we never spoke to each other again. It was all on me now.

So I went to terminate it without him. He didn’t want to be there anyway. Not really. I know that so completely. He wanted to run away and he did. And I wanted him to be gone, so he was. We could no longer stand each other, and we were sadly both ok with that.

And although my heart was breaking into a million tiny pieces over what I had to do on my own, I knew at the same time that it was absolutely the right thing to do. I couldn’t be a mother yet. I just couldn’t. I didn’t even want to be HERE on this earth anymore.

All I could think about was wanting to die from my shame and stupidity.

I hadn’t told my family, I was that ashamed, but I had to do this. I had to go, so I went to the hospital with a friend who sat by my side for the whole day. She held my hand while I was terrified and shaking. I was so young, so stupid, so lost, and so broken.

The hospital staff were very lovely, I think they could see the weight of my mistake, and that my decision along with my current actions were already killing me. So there was no judgement, only kindness from them. As I went into the operating theatre, they tried to make me laugh. I cried instead. I had no smiles, no laughter inside me anymore. I was still shaking.

And then I was unconscious.

When I woke up I could already feel the change inside. I felt hollow. I could already feel something missing – the baby I had lost. And I felt a physical pain, like the worst period pain I could have imagined. It had me doubling over from the shock of it.

Little did I know at the time that the emotional pain of it, the shame of it, and the absolute heartbreak of it would eat at me and tear away bits of my sanity and my soul for over fifteen years to come. I was no longer myself. I was no longer the carefree happy, stupid person that I used to be.

And my shameful secret was consuming me every day. The guilt of it was breaking me.

Even now, years later, I look back with pain and regret. It wasn’t only my mistake, it was his too, I took the responsibility of it squarely on my shoulders. It was my body and I was so careless with it, and the memory of the carelessness effected every relationship I have ever had since. It has affected my mentally every day ever since, to the point that some days I will be so consumed by the thoughts of this little person who would have turned fifteen this year, that I can’t even breathe.

But I got through it day by day. A big part of getting me through was my now husband, and meeting him was the greatest thing that could have ever happened to me. He (along with a wonderful psychologist) has been strong enough, kind enough, loving enough and patient enough to help me get through it.

We are happily married and have proceeded to have a beautiful loving family, a family that I love and adore, yet he knows that I still get nervous sometimes when he goes to touch me, that I am always hearing a voice in the back screaming at me to be careful. To never lose anything that precious again. And yet he is still patient and kind with me.

Because he knows that even though I have him and our beautiful and loving family by my side, I mourn. Every damn day I mourn, and I don’t think I will ever really come to terms with that loss. I will never forget that little baby I lost by choice, the little person that I was never brave enough to meet. There will always be something missing from my life, for the rest of my days.

I love you my little baby. I’m sorry I was never strong enough to be your mother. Please forgive me.

If you are suffering from depression from things that you have experienced in your own life, then please talk to someone about it, I cannot stress enough how important that is! You don’t have to get through it alone!

Contact Beyond Blue today to talk to someone who can help you, because you are never alone. xx

 

Have you got your own story that you would like to share, to help other mummy’s on their own journey? Then send me an email at info@ellynshepherd.com.au, or leave me a comment below, and I will send you more info about how to get YOUR story published soon! xxx

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