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I was eight years old. He was involved in a car accident on
his way home from work and died in hospital shortly after. It was mum who broke
the news to us and I remember the cold way she looked at me when she told me he
was dead. She comforted my brother and sister but I didn’t receive anything. I
cried myself to sleep for months, soaking my pillow with my insuppressible
tears. I now realise I should have been offered counselling or at least had
someone to talk to after going through such a harrowing trauma but nothing like
that was ever suggested. Rachel and Andrew slowly started to get better and
begun the healing process but I was still lost, entirely consumed by the black
hole that was my grief. The distance between mum and myself only increased, she
felt like a stranger to me and I was entirely alone. Rachel’s been a social
butterfly for as long as I can remember, she had plenty of boys and girlfriends
to occupy herself with and would join in with all the after school clubs from
being a teenager. I had a couple of close friends in school but never had
Rachel’s confidence. She blossomed throughout her teenage years and mum would
relish in the staggering amount of compliments she’d receive from people about
my sister and her beauty.
    I
really can’t complain. Rachel always looked out for me and never intentionally
singled me out. Life went on without my dad and I eventually started to adjust
to an existence without his presence. Mum never remarried which is something
that still surprises me. My parents never had what you might call a good
relationship, mum came from a wealthy family and my dad didn’t. My mum’s
parents were disapproving from the start and that explains the pompous and
condescending relatives I was forced to mix with last night. We no longer see my
dad’s side of the family, my mum cut ties with them when he died and the three
of us were too young to challenge her decision at the time.
    When
I found out I was pregnant I was still in college. I was 18 years old and thought
it was the worst thing that could ever happen to me. I now know that I was
unwell and really did need some help. Physically, I was fine but emotionally I
was a complete mess. My anxiety was spiralling out of control and I couldn’t
understand the route of my problem. Well, maybe I could but didn’t want to face
it. By this point my dad had already been gone for ten years and I didn’t
believe his death to be the route of the chaos going on inside my head.
    I
knew Paul from school, we’d always been acquaintances but not exactly friends. I
never opened up to him about anything personal and I suppose I knew from the
start that I was only using him to try and forget my problems. We only slept
together one time but I became pregnant. It never should have happened because
Rachel persuaded me to go on the pill when I was seventeen. She was nineteen at
the time and had been on it for three years or so. I suppose she was being
responsible and was looking out for me and I’m still grateful to her. She took
me to the doctors and I had no problems with the contraception they prescribed
me. That’s why I don’t know what the hell I was thinking when I stopped taking
it. I remember Paul asking me right before we had sex if I was on birth control
and I foolishly lied to him by assuring him that I was. What I failed to
mention was the fact that I’d stopped taking it about one month before.
     I’d
had a feeling that we might sleep together and deliberately made the decision
to stop taking the pill. I had this unexplainable yearning for a baby and it
refused to leave me no matter what I did. I knew that it was nonsensical but
I’ve always been maternal and longed for a child. It really was madness because
I had no job, no money and no relationship. I wanted to be a mum since I was a
little girl and even when through a phase when I was fourteen where I was
desperate for a baby. Of course it was impossible for me at the time and