27 September 2007, was the day that my perfect family died. I killed it. I killed it with my weakness. My weakness of judgment. Judgment that I never wanted but now have. I never wanted to be a single mother, raising the child that I had when I was 19 only to follow the same path as her grandparents, my parents. I always thought our parents should have tried harder for us children.
On this day, my life stood still in front of me. I froze, my heart skipped beats, my palms sweated with fear, my face flooded with tears. Guilt, pain, regret, anger, shame and hurt now consume me.
As we approached he said goodbye. I looked at the door at 195 Macquarie St, an address with a sterile staircase inside, that is so embedded in my mind 10 years on. I turned back around to see him holding our daughters hand as she masters skipping down the street.
He was already a father and I a mother. We are already blessed with the most beautiful daughter. Why should I be so stupid and continue to fight with him over keeping you, when all of what I had at that time, was more than I ever had before. A family with a mother and father who are together, who are loving and supportive of one another and with a beautiful daughter already. I mean he supported me in situations like this. He did. He dropped me off and was going to pick me up again. He supported me. He cared for me. So, I close my eyes and pray before climbing those stairs to level 1. It was like climbing a mountain though, with every step, my heart pounded faster, my breaths deeper and longer.
As I approach reception, I confirm my details and am handed over with a board of papers to complete. I took a seat in the waiting room and notice just one other there. A woman in her late 20’s or there about, presented professionally in her black suit, content and primed. I start completing the paperwork continuing to tell myself that if I didn’t I would risk losing the family I was already so lucky to have. Then her name was called. I didn’t catch the name I just looked on in awe as she walks off with her mobile in one hand and bag in the other. She looked perfect though. It looked like she had it all, that she also was doing the ‘right thing’. Little did I know. Little did I know the pain that I was about to be faced with. All I knew is I was scared and didn’t want to be here. Was it too late to walk out? Should I just risk losing the family? But with the prospect of him walking away on me, with me then being a 22-year-old mother of a 3-year-old, pregnant and single, would it really have been worth it? Would have it been fair on you to bring you into a situation where cracks already existed, where he was on drugs, drinking and barely working? For me and my daughter it was okay though. Okay, because she had her mummy and daddy together. That is what ever child wants, right?
NO, NO, NO, I can’t do this. I can’t. The receptionist comes over and hands me another box of tissues. As I grab for another handful of tissues and wipe away yet another waterfall of tears, she asks me if this is what I wanted. I couldn’t answer that. I couldn’t answer that because I did not know. I mean I was there because I was doing what I was told. I did not want any more confrontation, I did not want the single mother life, and I certainly did not want the repercussions of me not going through with it. I did not want you to experience any of that not so good happenings of the relationship between your father and me. But, for what it is worth, I knew for sure that I loved you.
I loved you and wish I could have seen you, all 46 of your unique chromosomes that were created on that day of conception. I already had the feeling of your beating heart in me for 13 weeks. I wish I could have seen what I could only believe to be big beautiful eyes. You would have heard that by now though. You would have heard by now how I felt from when you were just 4 weeks with your own ears. As I held on to what I hoped to be a change in mind from him, you continued to grow. Your arms, feet and vital organs. You than discovered lively movements from hiccuping to thumb sucking of your unique fingerprint and frowning. I hoped you frowned in disgrace with what I have done to you. Just 14 weeks after your creation you had the sense of touch. Touch you, I wish I could. In my confused oblivious state, I closed my eyes and saw that scan of the beauty inside, that being you. I think of the sweet prince that I had longed for. As 16 weeks approached, your bones were growing and heart starting to pump 23 liters a day. Just like I dream of you now, you would have started to experience the harsh reality of dreams this week. REM dreams which are now just that. Dreams.
With a deep, long breath I collated myself, opened my eyes and with one last bit of hope, tried to call your dad again to beg him to let you stay. At least meet you like I wanted to.
“Sorry, this phone is either switched off or unavailable. Please try again later.”
With that last shot of hope failing, I gave up on you. I gave up on you and responded yes. YES! So, I was the one who failed you. I felt totally helpless, but you were the innocent one, the helpless one.
As I completed the paperwork I continued to cry those tears that I still cry today. No matter how hard or how much I cry, no matter how much time passes by, it will never be enough to bring you back. No amount of apologies will ever suffice.
My name was then called, I was led into a room with a gown and bag. This is when the fear and hurt started turning into anger. Your father still did not care.
All I wanted was for him to run in and say that he wanted you just as much as I did. So, I hurried in changing and doing what I was instructed. I just wanted ‘this over and done with’, as I heard “when you are ready, please lay up on the bed”. I thought to myself, what a stupid statement, who could ever really be ready for this. I so badly wanted to run the other way but as I shook with fear, I collated myself and continued on. I knew I had to stay head strong. I had to cut off my emotions. I couldn’t handle it all at this moment. In fact, I still struggle to come to terms with those emotions to this day.
As I laid down, I was instructed to count to 10. Although the usual blurbs were provided, I was not fully aware prior of what I was ultimately doing to my prince while I drifted into unconscious. Only now I know. After all of these years. Your peace, spirit and soul were disrupted. The disturbing truth is that I murdered you in the most inhumane way. With the dilation, vacuuming of your poor little helpless body, the crushing of your skull followed by the cutting and scraping of your remains. What innocent person deserves this.
I failed you.
I wish I could take it back.
It just shows you I am not worthy.
I murdered you.
My baby, my prince.
As time fast approaches, with the 10th anniversary of this day, the day I, your mother, murdered you, I can honestly say that I will never forget you and I will never forgive myself. I have so many emotions consuming me right now with the birth of ****** brother, knowing that it should have been you. It is like I am being haunted with it all again. Only this time it really has hit home.
As I left the premises on that day, I walked back to the car with my sunglasses on covering the tears streaming down my face. I had to toughen up. Not be a cry baby. But it was so hard, I just cried and cried for the hour and a half drive home for my baby, that is you. I couldn’t bring you back. I could take back time.
The drive home was so surreal. Not one word spoken between your father and I, not one word at all.
As I entered the door, I knew I could not do much. I certainly was not going to go back to work. So, walking into the kitchen, I flicked the kettle on. Your father approached me finally. As I looked up at him through the waterfall of tears streaming down, I heard those words. Those words that killed me. That killed my life, my family, my happiness. I could not do it. I could not do it any longer. How could he? How could he just have insisted on, supported me in, and taking me to that place where your life ended. He knew how bad I wanted you. How could he stand right in front of me, right now and say those words? Did he think that it was going to make me feel better? How could he seriously stand there and say now, once you had gone, that he wanted you!
That moment and those words echo in my head still to this day. From that moment on, no matter how hard I tried, I could never love your dad in the same way. So, I sacrificed you for what? That so called supportive loving man. A man he certainly is not. I sacrificed you for my own selfish reasons, to keep my family together. Ultimately, if I could have seen then what I now see, then I would have never even contemplated those actions.
No matter how many times, I ask for forgiveness from the lord above, I feel my sins are that bad that I will never be forgiven. I will never be repented.
I will always have that grief, shame, regret, sadness, anxiety, self-doubt, not to mention the guilt I carry every day.
Just be rest assured baby, it won’t be too long now until the day comes where I can finally hold you in my arms. Hang in there my prince. Mummy won’t be too much longer.
I love you forever and always xxx
Deuteronomy 19:21: Show no pity: life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot.
Leviticus 24:17: Anyone who takes the life of a human being is surely to be put to death