- The pain of bearing a child doesn’t stop at childbirth.
- It doesn’t matter how old your child is—they are always your children.
- You love them but you don’t always like them
My daughter was prematurely stillborn at 7 months. I had just turned fifteen and had been sent to a mother and baby home in Manchester to give birth. When they discovered how prem the baby would be they sent me to hospital and there I laboured alone for 18 hours before bringing a two and a half pound stillborn daughter into the world.
This was the nineteen sixties remember….none of the little niceties that are on offer today……foot and hand prints……photographs…..washing and dressing the baby………..just to hold the baby…….
I didn’t even get the chance to see my daughter……she was whisked away out of the room as soon as she was born…..they have a memorial in a Christchurch cemetery for stillborn children and its nice to visit now and then and remember her. Another anniversary silently kept.
That was 45 years ago and now you know you are reading the thoughts of a sixty year old woman, reflecting back on her life.
My sons, when they came along, were very well wanted children as you can imagine and I have happy memories of their childhood. For reasons that I shall not bore you with, I seem to be at odds with both my adult sons at the moment.
We only have our own perception of life I guess, and what was to me, happy childhood memories, appears to have been a shit childhood to our youngest son. Discipline was violence he tells me and yet I cannot for the life in me remember ever laying a hand on either of them. Strict ? By god yes ! Violent ? No.
This revelation from my son has really knocked me for a six. Its like he’s taken a very big and precious part of my life and just………trashed it.