When I got pregnant with my first child, I was over the moon. I was going to have someone to love and someone to love me. For the first time in ages I felt happy. When I told him I was pregnant I thought he would be as happy as me, but he just said "well its nothing new to me, I've already got kids", my happiness just seemed to drain away. He wanted a baby so why wasn't he as happy as me? I think sometime a baby is just another way of making sure you're tied down to them more. During the pregnancy the abuse was more mental and emotional than violent as before, but he was still drunk all the time and I was just getting more and more depressed. Even when I went into labour he had to have his last session of sex before I went to hospital. It was a long bad labour and I lost alot of blood, he was drunk and decided to go home and leave me on my own. When he got home his mum told him he should go back to the hospital to be with me. I wish he hadn't he was so drunk. Because of my blood loss I wasn't allowed to go home, I had to stay on bed rest in the hospital. Everyday he would moan about when was I coming home, so in the end I begged the doctor to discharge me. when I got home, I noticed he'd been decorating and making sure everything was nice for when I got back. He told me things would change and once again I believed him.
Things didn't change, they got worse. I was still weak and so tired and the baby just wouldn't settle. the midwife kept calling longer then she should have because I was in such a state. Then post natal depression set in. I was so depressed and worn out and the abuse just kept coming and coming. If my baby was crying, she would have to wait because he had to be seen to first, even in bed.
The doctor put me on tablets and I had to see a councillor, but how could I tell her what was happening at home, what if he found out what I'd said to her. The councillor started visiting me at home, he'd sit there acting like this wonderful doting partner and father making out he was such a wonderful caring guy.
Then came the day I just wanted it all to end, I wanted it to stop I couldn't cope with it anymore, I wanted to die, I just wanted to die. I sat on the bed rocking back and forth, I didn't even realise I was pulling my hair out by the roots in big clumps, I couldn't feel any pain. I looked down at the hair in my hands and the bottles of tablets next to me and all I could say was "I want my mum, I need you mum, why did you have to die and leave me". Then I heard my baby cry, it was like a jolt back to reality. How could I be so selfish, how could I do this to her and leave her alone with him. Who would look after her and keep her safe.
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