everyday parent

FOR THOSE THAT DONT TWEET ME

2010-09-17T23:02:00.001+01:00

I HAVE MOVED MY BLOG TO WORDPRESS.... WWW.EVERYDAYPARENT.WORDPRESS.COM

sex, drugs, and George Orwell

2010-08-25T19:45:00.004+01:00

I left tuition the end of May, it was a sad sad occasion, time to leave and move on from the place that had been the constant being since november, the place that i'd finally realised who i was and what i was good at with the help of the right people, a friendly caring group, who somehow i managed to bring together. i think i needed them there more than they needed me, but regardless i had managed to find my feet again, be normal, whatever normal was.

Upto the date of my exams i never did any revision, spent most of my time holed up in my room with the boyfriend mostly discovering what sex really was about (god it was good! a real revelation! learnt alot about myself and him there....) but mostly smoking pot and listening to music, now and then we went out to the cinema but it was a rare moment, we were happy just chillin' and hanging out with each other, sounds boring really, but i quite enjoyed not having any drama in my life.

time to relax (when i shouldnt) exams are next week, im not bothered, those grades will mean nothing to me, well less than how much i dealt with the previous 18 months, you can always retake an exam, but you cant relive your past, whats happened, happened. end off. it truly was a moving on moment, not in the normal sense of a 16 year old growing up either.

The day of my english exam, i get up at 10ish, the exams in the afternoon, have a smoke, lounge around most of the day til im picked up for it, meet the other kids sitting the same exam, look around to see who's here, a couple of kids from my first secondary school 'the naughty ones' they're as suprised to see me as i am them, we all pop outside for a ciggie before our exam, we've got 10 minutes.

we gradually finish our smoke and go back in and sit down, I'm not nervous, in fact no one seems all that bothered. thats when the panic hits me, none of these kids seem to care! i care actually! i want to pass this paper, i cant remember anything we learnt, all i seemed to do was write that assignment that got me an A. there must be other ways they assess you. whats a metaphor? what did george orwell write? AAaaargh my minds a heady mix of panic and being stoned.

so i sit the exam, 1hour and 30 minutes of writing senseless rubbish, whatever i was writing the words seemed to flow, a short poem of rhyming couplets? whaaaat? ive forgotten what that is, i look around the room. everyone else is busy writing, i feel incredibly stupid, head down again, words flow again, after all the panic and stress i've felt in the past half hour, i finally begin to fill the paper.

10 minutes left i finish. paper seems empty, i hope ive done enough to scrape a D at least, i couldnt do with failing an exam right now, its the last thing you need when youve only taken 2 gcses and the other god knows what percent of the country has taken 10 or so, ten minutes is a very long time when youre sat in a silent room bar the sounds of a scratchy biro against the exam paper. the smell of youth, desperation and the probability of failure fill the room.

the sound of an alarm buzzing fills the room, and awakes 10 of us from daydreams and fantasies. time is up. no turning back now. today was probably one of the defining moments for our future, and if we pass between us, we'll be ok. home now for more of the boyfriend and related stuff. (its the related stuff im looking forward too)

Number 13.........

2010-08-10T19:24:00.002+01:00

well it was announced the other day that I am number 13 on a list of top 100 parent blogger on twitter. http://www.bloggered.co.uk/main/2010/08/top-100-british-mummy-and-daddy-bloggers-on-twitter/

I'm very happy about this, not shouty show offish, but for me to write something rather personal, deep and meaningful , then for it to make some list. where I'm the top end of the top 20, well wow!

The majority of regular readers will know that I never wrote this blog for nominations and to be part of a list, I wrote it for me. for a little peace of release where I could just spill my emotions and general stories of the past. I'm rather shocked that people have made the effort to read, re tweet, nominate and vote for me.

well another big thank you, and I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it!

Carl.

2010-08-05T16:04:00.001+01:00

My brother in law is dying. No one knows how long he has left. Its taken at least ten years for tumours to spread through his body.

I feel an immense pain and grief. I feel like I'm losing the last person that deeply cared about me in my hour of need.

I cant write much more. Because even though he has been in decline since February I feel numb, as if its suddenly happened, I've cried some more tears .

Brother in law is in the severn hospice, I did a 13 mile walk for them in april ‘just for a good cause’ now I'm glad I did and those painful 13 miles suddenly mean more to me than anything else.

I'm proud of myself for doing it but I'm feeling incredibly blue. But life carries on. people die all the time. But somehow this is different.

exams and house parties

2010-07-05T10:22:00.003+01:00

Its now mid May, ive got the date for my exams, middle of june, a week apart, I should get my head down and work hard. i wish i was capable of sitting down and revising for exams but im not, why should i take them, when ive seriously ive already fucked up a massive part of my life, what difference will a poxy GCSE make?! ten years later i finally realised.

the boyfriend is still around, i spend every weekend at his, in Pontesbury, weekends are either spent at his house, just smoking, chilling, and drinking, or at his friends houses pretty much doing the same thing. His neighbours invite us to a barbeque the one friday evening, for some strange reason she asks me if i have kids, i dont know what to reply for a second, i suppose i couldve just said no dont be daft im only 16, but i said yes, she asks boy or girl, where is he with his grandparents? it dawns on me suddenly that i never even told the boyfriend about my son.

oh god what will he think of me now? I answer the dreaded question, no i gave him up for adoption 12 months ago, her reply, sorry to hear that. boyfriend looks at me with concern, through the haze of drink and drugs, things are becoming clearer, actually i shouldnt feel the need to confess to everyone, there is no need for people to know, but i suppose if i told people i might actually be able to get close them, rather than this distance i seem to have with a lot of people, i step back and look at it. but once people know, after a few slightly awkward questions, no one is actually that bothered, shocked or whatever.

well food is ready now, change of topic, his neighbour has done up a VW campervan, shows us his handy work, more drink consumed, a slight niggle at the back of my mind, boyfriend doesnt say anything, in fact he never asks again, which is a relief and a frustration at the same time. We leave the neighbour, go back to his house for a smoke and more drink, We laugh, fool around and have a bit of fun, and the niggling doubt at the back my mind has disappeared, i actually dont care anymore. A few of his mates pop round, more drink consumed, i pass out, sat on the floor leant against the sofa.

the following morning i wake up in bed, wondered how i got there, still clothed (thankfully) swore to myself i'd let myself get in that situation again, make my way downstairs, theres quite a few people just crashed out on the floor. i look around and laugh, think to myself this is what we do, and no parents, no children, no teachers, no job. its the weekend im young and carefree, and i love it! But is it wrong, i wish my son never existed, i wish i couldve carried being a normal teenage girl and dealing normal things, not the pain and grief i'd suffered, is this just coping, hiding the fact ive got issues to deal with or is this just how i should be?
I never did find out.

time changes everything

2010-05-25T19:04:00.005+01:00

fast forward to march, ive got a boyfriend, first one ive had since 'you know' 'that isnt talked about much anymore, i still miss him, i cry now and then thinking about my son, it eats me up inside, it tears me apart more and more each day. i think im going to crack underneath all the strain it gives me. ive been to the docs given antidepressants. no more counselling though, i didnt get very far with the counselling, it just doesnt work for me. the tablets make me feel numb, as well as the pot, im doped up, cant concentrate, i havent got a clue what im doing now. but only time will tell.

back to talking about the boyfriend, he's 19 works in the local petrol station, oh god hes funny! such a great sense of humour and drives a motorbike, god im really in love, i only popped in for a drink and some munchies a couple of times while he was working, was just chatting and it led on from there! so alright, he's lovely, he's also a village pot dealer! convenient. but he was nice enough at the time........ so we mostly hung out at the garage in the evening as he was working and we got to know each other better. he was quite adamant about waiting til i was 16 before we did anything else.

16 shortly 3 weeks time god im excited perhaps i'll get treated better, with a bit more respect and responsibility. i can buy cigarettes from anywhere, not that it makes any difference, i can do it now! and drink! wheres the fun in being 16? time to act responsible? no chance! responsibilty sucks, and although i want it i'm not going to act it! I try and I stumble, still smoking pot, ah well.
Back at tuition more the advisor comes again, shes actually very nice. we're going to get on just fine i think. we sit down and a 'proper' chat about careers, i think i might like to do residential care work, maybe journalism, maybe not. i dont know.

we talk about college at the next meeting, ive obviously got to go to college if i want to do anything else, retake my gcses and take more subjects. thats the plan! we'll do that i think, i quite like the sound of going to college, sounds like growing up! im sure i can grow up a little, so now i have a reasonably long term goal, good a serious move in life. i can do this, im not stupid. i know how capable and strong i am, oh and brave, the neighbours said im brave for coping with giving my son away. no im not.

careers advice uh yeh............

2010-05-12T10:55:00.002+01:00

I know I said i was going to be calming down, i was extremely proud and a little overwhelmed with the tutors comments and support towards me and my assignment, but i was 15 still, i know i had the abilities to settle down work hard, make something of myself, who wants to think about working hard and getting a career at 15? i certainly didnt, nor did my friends at the time! we were far too busy having a lot of fun, we were still smoking pot in the afternoon, just because i left the childrens home i found it hard to disassociate myself from these people that in an a roundabout way had been there for me, a constant being, in the really bad times, we had an understanding of each other, nothing was talked about deep and meaningfully, they werent that close really, but we knew where we stood amongst ourselves.

end of January now, 12 months since i entered a world i knew nothing about, and dear god have things changed, i am no longer the nervous scared kid i was when this all started, i dont think im depressed anymore, although im having counselling (whatever that is) i really cant be bothered with the whole sitting there and talking about my feelings anymore, i dont like doing it, perhaps its because my parents were never particularly open with me, perhaps it was because i was always stoned......... probably not a wise thing to do at the time, but looking back i cant say it made much of a difference!

back at tuition, we've got to see a careers advisor, ha! careers advice? i'd never ever thought what i wanted to do when i left here, in fact i dreaded to be honest, i'd finally got settled somewhere, and in 4 months time i'd have to leave, so what was i going to do? erm let me think, writing, was quite good at it i suppose, can i make a career out of writing? no i didnt think so, its hardly possible to make money out of the ramblings of a 15 year old girl, so we see the careers advisor, now this has always puzzled me, why/how does someone want/get to be a careers advisor? and what gives them the ability to be able to give advice to teenagers, when in my eyes they are stuck in a dead end office job?

so careers advisor turns up, shes about early twenties, 5ft 3 slim. she looks younger than me, how on earth am i going to take this woman seriously, i expected a woman alot older than this, she looks slightly worried, she looks at me, i look at her with a look of contempt, we sit down and chat about things, so what are you interested in? what do you enjoy doing? my answer was 'nothing, everything is pants' then i asked her what did she want to when she grew up? the look on her face was priceless, i think i probably killed a little bit of her passion for the job there and then, i was not going to be asked what i wanted to when i grew up by someone who obvoiusly didnt care and couldnt care less.

Mad Finalist

2010-05-06T16:57:00.002+01:00

THANK YOU

Right so I've made The MADS finalists from writing this 'blog' 'memoir' whatever you wanna call it! its made me cry its made me laugh its made me think that actually if i have a story to tell why not tell it! well every ones got a story to tell, so why not?

this past week since the mad finalists were announced, Ive read an awful lot of blogs, some funny some sad and the rest are damn right funny and odd!! but most of all I've enjoyed reading about other peoples lives, possibly the nosy streak in me!

I'm extremely proud of myself and how much encouragement and positive feedback I've had from people who've read this, mostly my twitter followers, I've been told to write my story into a book, but i don't think anyone would be interested, but then again i didn't think anyone would be interested in this! lack of self esteem i think there...... but now I've realised how valuable my story is, (i think) but ideally I'd like to make sure that even if one teenager reads my story and thinks being a teenage mother is a bed of roses, free houses and plenty of money then they'll know to think again, there's no other way of putting this but it seriously screws up your head........

there's plenty left to tell, so regular readers stay with me!! and new ones catch up!! still havent got to the moment i passed out in pontesbury (a small village) ........ and how i asked the careers advisor what she wanted to do when she grew up...... and the retaking of gcses was fun but evidently pointless, and how at 17 i nearly flipped my driving instructors car, and as funny as that lot sounds it inevitably gets a bit dark at times........

so stay with me folks and another big

THANK YOU

to those that supported, nominated and voted for me :-)

growing up, calming down.....

2010-04-27T12:48:00.003+01:00

The weekend came and went, Monday morning back at 'tuition' makes it sound better than it was.... teacher knows whats happened, he just asks if im ok, yeh im alright, ive got to write an english assignment for two weeks time, its about a life experience, but its got to be made up, so where do i start, changing the names for one, so i start writing this 'made up' story about a teenage girl getting pregnant, after sleeping with the boy she really fancied, at a drunken party, and the consequences up until she gives birth. Only the important bits arent made up, its all too real. I hand it in, at the end of a session a week later.

the next morning at school, teacher gives it me back he has a tear in his eye, says he's never read anything so emotional, i blush, check my grade, an A, never got an A before, a tear rolls down my cheek, i have to go outside for some fresh air, that and a smoke, need to calm myself down somehow. This time the emotion is happiness for the first time, in what seems like a long time, happiness, so this is what it feels like then? i'd almost forgotten, its not drunken, its not drug induced, it is genuine pure emotion. I go back into class and could almost hug him, but i dont! i just sit back in my chair, basking in the glow of this little bit of glory, something to be proud of, for once, im not ashamed of my story!

back at home, i tell my mum, she's very happy for me, says shes proud too, the rest of that day im on cloud nine, last week doesnt exist anymore, steves almost forgotten, the being 'homeless' and sleeping rough for most of a week, doesnt even come into this anymore. But normally must resume, so off out with friends, nothing to do! so dope induced stupors resume, beats the boredom, and gives me a sense of belonging amongst friends, after all no one likes peer pressure, but you just do it anyway at 15. Hey its great and im still a teenage girl, after everything.

*************************************************************************************

that English essay changed a lot of things there and then, it made me realise that i shouldnt be ashamed of my past and possibly inspired me to change things before they got too bad, it inspired me to start this blog, because i found it (yes ive kept it after all these years) hidden in a drawer amongst other things, like the video of me and baby boy, numerous photographs, and his original birth certificate. For those of you that think my story is about to end, its not, Its just the beginning of a new phase of my life, and i'd like to thank everyone thats ever read this blog, and nominated me for the mads. Made me feel like i have something to be proud of again, not ashamed.

THANK YOU

Back in Shrewsbury

2010-04-06T19:18:00.003+01:00

The train carries on towards shrewsbury, the longest hour of my life so far, do i go straight home? Its rushing through wellington, i am so close to home, my body is aching needing comfort, im hungry, i havent eaten a meal for 3 days, I'm weak, emotional and needing some support, scenery changes, gone are the fields, replaced by suburban houses of the outskirts of shrewsbury, train slows down, my mind speeds up, i have no idea what to expect when i get into the station, i dont expect a massive welcome party, i dont expect anyone to be there for me.

the train stops in the station, late commuters rush off, i step out onto the platform theres no one that i recognise, theres no one waiting for me, i see families meet relatives, a tear rolls down my face, i walk down the steps off the platform, body still weak mind still racing, i wont go home, i decide it'll be better if i turn up at social services, im not ashamed of what i did, just ashamed that i abandoned my family like that and ran away from myself. so i start the walk to the otherside of town, its a long and painful walk.

i finally arrive at social services, ask if my social worker is around, she is, she takes me inside her office, gives me warm drink and a sandwich, i hungrily wolf it down, it barely satifies my hunger, i need more, although i feel to tired to do anything else, she doesnt ask me to talk to her, she knows i have nothing to explain, she rings home for me, i sit crying, i never meant to cause anyone else any pain, i just wanted to clear my head. we leave the offices and head off towards my family home.

We get back home, my mum is there waiting for me, at the door, i cant bring myself to look her in the eye and say sorry, im not sorry anymore, but now is the time to turn my life around, back to school monday morning, i will help myself before i end up on the streets, life is hard, and this is what happens when a small mistake suddenly becomes a very very big one. I make my way to my room, look around, its warm its comfortable and much much more than others have got. now is time to start growing up.

Running Away Is Not The answer part Three

2010-03-27T11:44:00.005Z

I dont think i can sleep tonight, my eyes are heavy but i'm too hungry, nearly 3 days without a meal, and i didnt have breakfast before i left home, its sad, i feel lke im looking down on my 15year old self feeling pity, steve and i are huddled together, i ask him what he's thinking, he wants to go back to liverpool, he says he thinks i should go back home, and whatever impression i wanted to give my parents ive given it now. he wasnt going to force me, its not his job, i sit here thinking about what he just said, a tear rolls down my face. I miss my mum, I even miss my dad. Family has always been there for me, no matter what, I know im loved so whats the problem?

Its 4am now, no one about, the city is sleeping. steve is half sleeping next to me. i nudge him a little he wakes up properly, we light a cigarette, its still dark outside, what do we do today? ive got enough money to get home, but theres a fear inside me what if i get really punished for this, disowned by my family, they might not want me back. its my sons first birthday today. tears stream down my face, like they have done every year since. I must get home today, i tell steve this he says thats good. i grab an hours sleep before the cleaner comes and chucks us out its still only 6.30am.

we sit chatting, then go for a cup of tea, more chatting, more smoking, more tea. i decide it would be good to go and find the time of the train shortly so we wander off to the train station. take a look at the timetable avoid the morning rush i think. so an hour or so until the next one i can catch get be back into shrewsbury for about half ten. we sit outsde the station waiting for the time to pass, idling away another hour just like ive been doing for the past few days, ive become numb, seemingly unaffected to whats happened but its eating me up inside.

suddenly its 9.30 time to get the train, I try to say thanks to steve because hes been there for me without judging me, but all i can mange is a muttered goodbye, i never have been one for words and long goodbyes, but i was distraught, i got on the train tears streaming down my face,
i sit down, platform side, and i look to see steve. and he's gone. i knew i'd never meet anyone like steve again. and i'll never know what happened to him.

Running away is not the answer - Part two

2010-02-26T14:45:00.007Z

Steve goes and buys the tea this morning, its warm, and hugs me, never since that moment have i taken a cup of tea for granted again. we laugh and joke a little, then the mood changes i have 3 pound, Steve has just as little more, i cant even get home now, well i suppose i could walk into a police station and play little girl lost, but i don't want to, i got here i shall get back home somehow eventually, we walk past a big issue seller, ask him for directions to the big issue office, well we need some money somehow, we need to eat to keep warm, the biscuits Steve shared with me were almost gone, soon we would be cold hungry and a very long way from home if we didn't get some money soon.

we try our hand at begging, far enough apart, i sit down on the pavement, cross legged looking down with my hood up, its cold windy and raining, people are starting to walk past in suits, oldish man in a suit walks past, he doesn't tut or sigh, just drops £3 into my empty paper cup, Steve told me to always take pound coins out because its looks like you've been given enough, a few more walk past i don't even have to say anything, mostly pennies are dropped in, but the odd 50p and a few more pound coins. i don't want to do this anymore, i shouldn't have needed too, in fact i don't need too. I go and find Steve hes still round the corner, we decide the big issue is the only way to up our stakes, he hasn't made much, we work out we've made about £10. we go and buy some tobacco, and a bite to eat, then we go to find the big issue office.

eventually after wandering round Birmingham for what seems an age, we finally find the big issue office, its full of obvious junkies looking for their next fix, and an easy source of income, Steve and i decide to buy some copies of the big issue to sell, Steve has to do this, i keep myself hidden away, if they realise I'm a minor I'm sure they'll force to a police station and rush me back home, I'm OK here surviving. if i don't think about what could happen or worse - it wont happen, me and Steve wander out of the big issue office with ten copies of big to sell, after buying them for 40p and selling them for 80p that's an extra £4 we've made from nothing. Now we sell them, that's the idea, there are big issue sellers on every corner of Birmingham, and two more to add to the list, so we jump on a bus and go just outside of Birmingham, Acocks green i think it was, Steve sells them but we still share the money,

By now its late afternoon and getting dark, so we head back into the city, where we feel safe for another night, Steve buys a couple of cans of cider from the shop, gives me one, i drink it slowly it keeps me warm, we sit and drink into the evening, people rushing around us again, I'm surprised at the rush of these people going home business men walk past talking loudly on mobile phones, telling families they may a little late as they've just missed the last train, this means nothing to me, I'm not in any rush to be anywhere I'm here completely oblivious to the worrying of my parents and hidden away again, i don't feel safe but have no choice at the moment.

time passes us by and its soon late evening, the symphony hall is just round the corner, revellers walk past late at night, we are here in body, we don't know where our minds are, mine is living the past 12 months out in my head, it hurts me to think, i just want to sleep now, so we move to the same place as we were last night, I'm starving hungry, not eaten a decent meal for two days now, all i can think about is food. i don't know where Steve's mind is he looks a little out of his depth, just like i am. We huddle together to keep warm, he gives me a warm friendly hug, because its what we both need, nothing untoward about this at all.

Running away is not the answer-Part one

2010-02-22T13:27:00.005Z

here i am, on a train heading towards Birmingham, why, quite simply i don't know, but i just need to get away from everything, social workers and parents and every other stress i have in my life, I'm 15 though life should not be stressful, i think I've bought it all on myself again, looking back i was depressed and rather than try and kill myself again, the answer seemed to be to run away from it all. we arrive in Birmingham, new street station, every one's rushing round me, I've never been this far away from home before, without a 'grown up'. This is scary, never before have i been so terrified of being somewhere.

i wander through the centre of birmingham, just taking it all in, its 5pm, on a cold january evening, people going home, rushing from one place to the next, i find a little shop, get a drink, sit down outside, theres a homeless guy, just sat down begging, he cant be much older than me, i later find out hes 19, he looks across tells me to smile, i start to sob, what have i done? i shouldnt be here, then he comes over talks to me, tells me his name, steve, he's chatting to me as if he hasnt got a care in the world, so i hang out with him for a bit, hours fly by, we sit down and chat some more, hes not into drugs he says, i believe him. i never thought i could meet someone sleeping rough who was willing to help me, and i suppose take care of me.

he takes me to the 'soup kitchen' i feel like im stealing, surely there are more needy people than me, but then again i am young teenage girl in this situation, i know i shouldnt be here but i have no choice now, im not running back home with my tail between my legs like a naughty child. we find some to set down for the night, in the dry, just inside a shopping centre, not that much sleep was had to be honest, we just chatted for hours, i told him my life story of the past year, he told me his, his story made me feel awful, he was my age when he ran away, after being abused by a much older man, i felt bad, i shouldnt be here, nothing that awful happened to me, mine was my own doing, not the torture he had suffered. it was getting light again, we got kicked out of the centre, by the cleaner, we just wonder off onto streets again, its only 7am the city is quiet.

no one cares

2010-02-19T12:34:00.003Z

it all dawns on me so suddenly, i think no one cares, looking back on the past twelve months everyone cares and no matter what i think about people and the not caring side of things people do, so why do i think they don't? I've never had so much support in my life before now, and yet i seem to be making a mardy fuss about everything people do for me, i don't know why I've done it, people obviously care otherwise I'd have been given up on and in the gutter a long time ago!

home is home at last finally feels like i belong, (well for now anyway) Christmas is only round the corner, its been along turbulent year, and I'm in education, OK i know its not the best of things taking 2 gcses when i should be working my arse off on 9 or 10, but I'm enjoying it, i finally feel like i belong there too, finally fit in with the other kids, well the other 3, that's right there's just 4 of us, in a little room off a church hall, but its 'school' and i like it, there's a shock! something i feel comfortable in after so long of not fitting in anywhere!

outside of school what am i doing? still getting doped up on pot, am i bothered? nope, why should i stop something i enjoy? well for the moment anyway .... life's short and you make it what it is! theres nothing wrong with me smoking pot although I'm sure my parents would see otherwise! just lazing around smoking in the evening, chilling out with some tunes, enimem and dr dre at the time! with a bit of indie thrown in for good measure, to be honest it depended on who i was with and what i listened to at the time! easily pleased as far as music's concerned!

we reach the middle january, its my sons birthday in a couple of days, i dont want to be at home anymore. im at school today, so upset, i dont want to do any work, neither of us do, so the teacher type guy takes us all for coffee, we sit and chat over drinks, i sneak round the corner for a cigarette, he knows what im doing but just leaves me for a little while, we're not supposed to smoke with the group, he still lets us though, its going to make his life easier, that was monday morning, monday afternoon i pack a few things in a bag, steal some money from home and get on a train, i run away.

Severn hospice spring walk

2010-02-11T09:25:00.003Z

On the 25th April 2010 i shall be doing a 13 mile walk for the Severn Hospice, this shall be no easy task, but i have the determination to complete this!!
i would be very grateful if you could sponsor me, and help get the important message out there, that they rely on the help of the public to help fund the the brilliant work that they do.

Here is their main aim:
They care for people who are living with complex and progressive illness. their aim is to sustain the quality of their life and to provide relief from pain and other distressing symptoms. their aim is not to shorten nor to extend the length of the patients’ life. Because incurable illnesses affect whole families they offer the same loving support, help and counselling to their families, friends and carers.

find out more at http://severnhospice.org.uk

So sponsor me and help people who need it more!!

***********EDITED**********************

I BLOODY DID IT!! YOU KNOW!!

13 miles!! my legs are sore! i have grazed knees, but i have a real sense of achievement no one can compare too!! and a big thanks to my twitter buddies sarah, (@sazchik) Sue (@solbrook) who did it with me! without whom i wouldve given up, long before the finish!!

leaky eyes and tissues

2010-01-19T10:23:00.000Z

Today is the 19th of January 2010 my son is eleven tomorrow, and starts secondary school in September, I’m writing this because I had what I called leaky eyes I wasn’t proper crying because I wasn’t sad, and on the outside I don’t seem physically bothered but its eating at me again, its making forgetful moody and a slight bit temperamental, I'm scared of blowing my top at people close to me just because they might have said slightly the wrong thing.

This is no good for me, I have stuff to do, I need to stop being frightened of going nuts at anyone who may upset me even though they didn’t know, because one day with all this anger at myself somebody is going to flick the switch and I will explode at somebody, I don’t want that to happen because I care for everyone around me.

Even after all this time it still eats at me like a vicious bug creeping up on me ready and prepared to upset the balance of my life, I've truly had enough, but what drives me on is the hope that I will see my boy soon and the years are getting less and less, I just hope he wants to see me, when the time is right.

I could write about my feeling forever but to be honest, I'm entirely sure what I feel anymore, there is anger resentment and a little bit of being cross at myself. This blog is all so self indulgent, I've never quite understood the reasons behind it wheter I just want to stop hiding what seems like some awful secret or whether I just wanted to express myself, either way its helping, and much cheaper than therapy.

But I shall wallow in my own self pity today and tomorrow, and as daft as it looks I shall make the most of it, just bring the tissues.

new towns and new schools

2010-01-02T22:32:00.000Z

The next couple of months pretty much passed me by, in a daze of smoking pot and blur of not doing much. My parents crept around me like they were scared of saying or doing the wrong thing. Then in the middle of august it came, I had a letter off my sons adoptive parents, and pictures, I didn’t even recognise my own son anymore, he was a stranger already, I didn’t realise they changed so much so quickly, he didn’t even look like my son anymore. How was I meant to recognise him now, I showed my mum the pictures “aw he looks just like you” does he? I couldn’t see the resemblance myself he just looked like a baby, I'm just glad I knew he was ok and well looked after, that was all I cared about. I carried that letter around with me for as long as possible until it became all ragged round the edges.

It was nearly September and something changed inside me, I didn’t want to be at home anymore, I still had a social worker I told her this, she talked with my parents, and after much debate they let me move out for a little while, I went into a foster placement just for a little while until I was stable enough to live back home, surely this is where my parents should’ve been there to give me as much support as I needed but never mind, social worker found somewhere and took me off to Newtown Mid Wales well this could be interesting I thought to myself, it’s not far away from Shrewsbury but far enough from everyone to give me some time to reflect on everything and it wouldn’t be for too long.

After what seemed like a very long drive, we arrived in Newtown, literally right in the town, a massive 5 bedroom townhouse, very nice not at all what I was used to growing up in a 3 bed semi on the middle of an estate. This place was huge and it just someone’s home not a children's home, well this woman was quite nice, well to start with anyway, I suppose she had to be really, well especially in front of the social worker, if she wasn’t she’d lose a lot of money, well it was ok to start with, quite cosy, then I had to be enrolled in the local high school, this was the worse than having to go everywhere with this woman for so long while I was there, I saw my mum once in a fortnight, but now it was school time again!! Who could I be this time? Well actually for once I think I’ll be me, I'm sick of trying to be someone else just to fit in.

So I think I know who I am now, I'm a guitar playing indie kid, growing up in the fantastic Britpop era, (ok so I can’t play anything other than a couple of chords but it’s enough to impress a couple of new school pals) and at the evenings, we still smoke pot, no matter where I seem to go I can still get some, just a matter of talking to the right people. This was meant to help me but still doing the same things but in a completely different light suddenly I was cool coming from Shrewsbury! Silly gullible small town folk, so I just forgot about everything at home, well until I refused to go to school the one day, foster carer was not very happy about that at all, so we had a massive argument she rung my social worker said I was a nuisance to her, so I packed up my stuff and got on the train back to Shrewsbury.

Back to social services HQ arrive on the doorstep of the building carrying what seems like all my possessions in 2 back packs and a suitcase, and a guitar, receptionist asks if I’d like some help, yeah I’d like to see my social worker, ok I’ll just get her for you, so I sit waiting on the one plastic chair they have at the front of the building, in walks a distressed parent, carrying a screaming grubby toddler, I sit and listen, she can’t cope anymore, that could’ve been me in a couple of years times I think to myself, what am I doing here? My parents love me, I'm well looked after at home, this is my own stupid fault, I brought this all on myself. But I still don’t want to go home, too many bad memories.

Social worker finally comes down the stairs takes me to her office, sits and chats with me, they don’t want to put back in the system is there anywhere else I can go? I don’t know, what about your older sisters she asks, I never thought about that she's got her own little family she wouldn’t want me there, getting in the way. But I give her my sister’s number, she gives her that call, and after what seems like an age on the phone, she ends the call and says yes, I can stay there. Social worker takes me to their house, it’s now late October and I think I've finally come to some sort of reconciliation with my head, I might have even found the possible stability that I need, my sisters got 2 kids at this point, one not 6 months old and a 5 year old, it’s going to be a squeeze in a 2 bed bungalow but I kind of know we’ll be ok for a little while.

Social worker visits me twice a week for the first couple of weeks, then she says I've got to go to school, I tell her no, I don’t want to, no one asks me why, but she says I don’t have to go school properly because I've missed so much at this point, a tuition group would be best. So she's makes arrangements for me to attend one, arranges transport and everything, so the beginning of November I start going to a small tuition group in a small room just off a main church hall of all places, I seem like the biggest sinner I end up here!! But it’s nothing to do with the church its council run but there's a bloody crèche in the main bit every day, so here I am attending a tuition group 4 mornings a week and to think a couple of years ago I thought I was doing ok at school nothing bad would happen, my life has changed so much in a couple of years it’s no wonder I'm unstable at the moment. But I know this group is going to be the making of me, I stroll in all shoulders hunched not caring about much but then so does everyone else, no one seems to care here.

christmas blues

2009-12-24T12:03:00.000Z

Well its Christmas eve another year without seeing my son, it’s not getting easier it never will, the only time I will be happy at Christmas is if he ever finds me, so many people don’t understand how bloody hard it is, people keep comparing it to the death of a child, it’s not the same. My child is alive and healthy he’s going to open his presents in front of his parents, I’m not his parent anymore just a stranger, I don’t want to be a stranger any longer, I love my son, he needs to know how hard it is without him, but what if one day he decides he doesn’t want to see me, and I’m waiting for him and he's never going to turn up, now is not the time for this I should be happy and cheery that I have my daughter and my dad and plenty of other family around me, but I'm not I just feel alone, ever since I lost my mum I always feel alone, as if no one else is bothered, and this year it’ll be just me my dad and daughter. No more chances to have a moment when it makes me cry seeing my daughter open her presents when it should be my son and my daughter, I never thought I’d get so bloody emotional, now I just want to spend the time alone, for one year I'm not even sure I want to bear the gut wrenching task of watching my daughter open her presents, knowing I will cry, and as she asks me what’s wrong, I’ll lie again and say its tears of happiness, I'm not happy, and I should be.

overdoses and homecomings

2009-12-18T12:18:00.000Z

That day soon went, so did the next and the next few weeks I never knew who I was half the time a mixture of grief and detachment, I gave up on being able to feel anything, I just want this to end, I never wanted this to happen, what am I doing here, I'm in care at 15 with a son living elsewhere I want him here with me, I miss him now more than I ever have done, something’s finally clicked and I think I want to leave this world, there's nothing here for me, the one thing I've ever had has been taken away from me, I take an over dose of paracetomol, how have things got this bad I just want to kill myself, this isn’t attention seeking now, I just wish everything would end.

No I don’t, I've gone and done it again, I phone for an ambulance, this is ridiculous, I'm not after attention, I'm not an attention seeker, I just want things to get better, I just wish I was somewhere else, so off to hospital I go on my own, again, I feel so lonely, I miss what I had before all this happened, I just want to go back 2 years to normality, where everything is just average and uncomplicated, just plain old me, being a normal teenager, this isn’t normal, this an absurd and unusual situation to be in.

Here I am in hospital, in a children’s ward, in comes the care home manager, and my mum, why have I done it again, this isn’t like me they both say, you’re not an attention seeker, I don’t want to be here, 2 hours later social workers rushes in, bit late, aren’t we, I must point out that I hardly ever saw her because I was nicely tucked away in the system, then in come the psychiatric doctor (again) I'm sick of this woman she makes me talk I don’t want to talk to anyone I turn over in my bed, what the hell am I doing here, I don’t belong here, they all eventually leave, I'm tired.

Just stayed in overnight, went home the following afternoon, I didn’t take enough to do any harm, I didn’t want to kill myself I wanted everything to be back to normal, I hate all this, I get taken back to the children’s home, the staff have been briefed, I'm bored of being here now, I just want to go back to normality, too much has happened now though, my life will never be the same again. I try and be positive, I think this the start of a new beginning, time to enter the positive, there is only one person that can help me now is me, so here we go, let’s start trying to get my life in order. New beginnings and all that, life is hard, welcome to the adult world at 15, but I get treated like a child, how am I meant to know what to do I'm stuck in limbo.

Answer to my problems crops up again, let’s go for a smoke, we can sort all the complicated stuff out later, we while away another sunny day, thankfully the weather is good, we don’t have to resort to smoking under trees sheltering from the rain. Geez this stuff is strong today; I haven’t got a clue what it is! Some kind of weed, soon learn its skunk, I am so hungry, we soon go home, it’s getting dark, it’s getting dark now, we wander off home, we get back to the children’s home, expecting to be able to get something to eat from the kitchen, its locked, in the end we resort to the fruit bowl in the dining room, the staff aren’t happy, they know what we’ve been doing tonight, grrr it’s not fair, we got away with it for so long and busted, pocket money is to be cut down. As a punishment, we don’t care at this time, we’ve been having fun!

Today is a new day, Social worker visits me, a different one this time, my other one has left, they think it’s best if go home after last night’s incident being here isn’t doing much for my wellbeing, apparently I’d be better off at home, possibly but nothing can stop going out and doing as please at home, I can do as I want, my parents won’t give me a curfew, they’ve become a bit soft, to what I was used to actually, as if they’re tiptoeing around trying not to upset me, I don’t need this, I need firm boundaries as to what I'm allowed to do, but I finally say goodbye to the life in the care system, well at least I think that this it.

I start to pack my stuff with a tear in my eye, finally finished packing, I pick up my guitar, give it what seems like one last play, this guitar seems like the only thing I've gained from this, who’d have thought that one inanimate object could possibly change my life, well here we go, one last look around my room, carrying my stuff down the stairs seems like the hardest thing I've ever done is now over, but it’s not it’s still happening and still affecting my wellbeing, 3 weeks left of school before the summer holidays and here I am going through what could be one of the hardest things in my life making the transition from institution to family life again, this is tough today. I cry today, I don’t want to leave here its comfortable not homely really but I know where I stand. I get in the car; my dad is sat in the driving seat, so you’re coming home then? Yes dad, feeling better? A little, what do you want for tea? Whatever. He’s not a man with much emotion, when he needs to show it. I say my goodbyes from the car. I sit there in silence the entire journey. I don’t know where I want to be anymore.

aftermath and rebellion

2009-12-16T00:03:00.000Z

We arrived back at the care home, it was 3.30 the other kids were just getting back from school and college, I’m in my room I can hear them arguing over senseless things, things that don’t matter to me anymore things that shouldn’t matter to anyone when you see the big picture, I want them to shut up, it’s been a hard day, my partner in crime knocks on my door, she knows what’s happened today, I hate what’s happened today, I just want this day to end when is going to end its only 4pm. She asks if I’m ok, I am ok, I put on a brave face, I’m sick off putting on a brave face, so far in this very small period of my life, less than 6 months, I have gone through childbirth, a nervous breakdown and having to give my child up for adoption, I don’t want to go through anymore, I’ve been dragged through my life, somebody from the outside watching in that’s what it seems like.

I go down for dinner, people are tiptoeing around me, so for once I break the ice ask partner in crime how school was knowing full well she hadn’t been, she nudges me at the table, I smirk, it goes unseen by the care staff, let out a little giggle first time I've laughed today, dinners over ‘homework time’ not for me today, I go and cry, for the first time today, I cry and I don’t stop. Its 6pm, the girl that lives in fantasy land has started playing music, fecking Martine McCutcheon perfect moment, I've never liked this girl, and she plays this shit full blast right outside my room, right that's it I’m not sitting here listening to this fantasy music, when has been nothing perfect about today, I gave my baby away a few hours ago, there’s never going to be a perfect moment until I see him again. I bang my door open, the usual chatter stops, anyone with enough sense would know to turn it off there and then before I even speak, no not her, it’s still on, cd player yanked out of the socket before she even says a word, thrown down the stairs shattering into a million tiny pieces, then out comes the what did you do that for, not one of the staff tries to stop me, I did that because there is nothing perfect about today, do you know what happened today? Yeh, well shut the fuck up! Then I slapped her, across the face. God I feel better now.

Then I got taken into the office, had a proper telling off, I’m now grounded tonight apparently. Am I hell, and off I go for a wander, I walk from belle vue into town, over the bridge, and into town along the river, I don’t know where I’m going but I walk further than before from one side of town to the other, it’s a warm summers evening skies are clear, and if I had the right mood it would’ve been a lovely day, I start to walk back to the children’s home quietly it’s still light, I know I'm going to get in trouble but I just don’t care anymore, I really don’t care, nothing matters anymore, finally I get back, where have you been? For a walk, oh right well you do know you were grounded, yeh, it still stands, ok, I flick on the TV, there's nothing on this year is a blank so far, nearly six months in, and I don’t know what’s happening I feel like I've lost time, everything was a dream and I'm going to wake up soon, I slump in front of the TV til I'm told to go to bed, I know what’s on now, eastenders, I hate eastenders, I go to bed start to read music mags, strum the guitar grrrr nothings coming out of it, it needs tuning, I can’t tune it, I put it back against the wall, put music on, stick the demo tape on, funky soul, all sax and bass guitar, I lose myself in the music, sit back and think how much I could do with a drink a smoke, and a boyfriend, just to take my mind off stuff. Tomorrows a new day, I finally drift off to sleep.

Its Friday I'm meant to go home after school for the weekend, I don’t want to go home ever again, they made me give my baby away it’s their fault all their fault, I hate my parents, I'm not sure if this is teenage angst or genuine hatred for these people, if just one person would listen to me, And understand me for who I am regardless , understand me completely deep down understand the feelings I have, because I bloody well don’t understand what’s going on, I go home, stay in my room most of the weekend, it seems a waste of time being sent home for the weekend what is the point of going home and not speaking to your parents. I find a couple of baby’s things in my room. At home, I think my parents went through it and took all the notice bits out but not his little teddy, I find him hidden away I must subconsciously hid it before I knew what was happening to me, I can still smell my baby on it the slightly milky smell that new babies have, his smell, I go to sleep cuddling his teddy bear.

Time to go back to the children’s home, some kind of normality where people aren’t pussyfooting around me scared of saying the wrong thing, I do actually like it here, regardless of the stigma you gain from being in a children’s home, there is actually nothing wrong with it here. Sunday evening drifts away, back to the boredom of my room, I will insist on playing the guitar again, right how’s it go, dun dun denana, the only thing I can play is the beginning of a stereophonics track, pick a part that's new, somehow I can feel it in me, some kind of tune finally comes out of the bloody instrument and it starts making sense, just like every other of part of my life I know I can gain a positive outlook, I pick up the Mandala that Mr. Nice bought me before he left, I tossed it too one side after I thanked him for it, in all honesty I didn’t have a clue what to do with it, so I play with it and make shapes, this is strangely calming, I know why he bought it me now, he knew this moment would come and I would finally see some kind of light at the end of this very dark tunnel and just in the distance I could see a glimmer of hope and knew that one day everything would be alright.

Tomorrow comes around ‘off to school’ ha-ha someone’s having a laugh, off to a friend’s house, I have no intentions on going back to school this year, or ever again if I had my own way, school is the one thing I could actually live without right now, my dinner money goes on cigarettes and other smokable substances, I love doing this, its brilliant, every care that you have just leaves you, and the side affect is just being bloody hungry!! So we go smoke in the quarry today, turns out the other girl got busted by the lads parents on Friday, gutted, thankfully its quiet, so we find an inconspicuous corner and start smoking, its 11am on a Monday morning and I'm smoking pot in the quarry!! What kind of weird life am I leading at the moment? But I like it.

anarchy and adoption

2009-12-10T17:20:00.000Z

I woke up the next morning screaming in agony, my ankle was over the twice the size it usually is, oh my god it hurts, oh my head hurts how did I get here where am I? I soon snapped back to reality with a knock on my door, ‘are you getting up?’ I moved out of bed, AAARRRGGH, ooops what the hell did I do last night, everything is strewn across my room, my mum is on the phone, they had to tell her about my drinking blah de blah, one night!! Oh just once for petes sake, it wasn’t a downwards spiral, I gave up arguing with my mum, got taken to the accident and emergency, told me the obvious, I've sprained my ankle great, I think I’m still drunk, ooops again, a film night is planned for the kids home, oooh great, and my favourite staff member is working, that silly crush, I think about him every time he’s mentioned or here, well something’s got to take away the pain I have inside me and distract me. I hate everything that’s happened

The film is sliding doors, you know the one, catches the train and misses it, lying on the sofa with a banging headache, trying to recall what I did last night, care worker laughs at me, he seems to find it funny I’m suffering, good god I can’t even remember getting in, he’s read my notes, knows exactly what I said and did when I got in, he shows me the notes, oh dear slightly ashamed , no wonder the one woman was giving me evils this morning. So here I am with my ankle in the air, in agony. Completely ashamed of my behaviour! Time for a nap, never felt so tired in my life, first hangover of my life, who’d have thought it would have been the start of many and its Saturday tomorrow, got to go home for the weekend. Oh what fun?

The following week I skipped school a lot, not good when you've only been back a week, ah well there were much better things I could be doing like spending half the days in my new friends houses, smoking pot, much more fun than school. Often about 5 of us, in the one lads house, (his mum worked all day) so it was ok, that lasted every school day for a fortnight. I had to go for counselling, and see my baby, I hadn’t forgotten about him, I still loved him, still wanted to see him, but when I stopped asking he wasn’t mentioned, so I didn’t know what to do, but one counselling session, it all came out, I miss him, I can’t carry on like this I need to see him, of course all social workers had to be there, mine and his, and his foster carer, well they were all taking notes during the visit, I wasn’t interacting enough, I still think back and wonder what on earth they expected me to do with this strange child, I don’t think he recognised me anymore, I didn’t recognise him, he was nearly 4 months old, and I’d kind of forgot about him in a roundabout kind of way, I obviously wasn’t ready for the responsibility of this child. Even if I did love him. Love isn’t enough alone.

The adoption worker came to see me, at the children’s home more talking more crying, I was very scared I didn’t know what to do, now it was decision time I couldn’t keep my baby and it wasn’t good for him to stay in care and get pushed from pillar to post while I made up my mind, the day I finally agreed to him being adopted, the 7^th of may 1999, ten and a half years ago, perhaps that’s why I've felt so bad this year, the tenth year without seeing my son. People assured me it was for the best, I'm still not sure it is. I’m not happy but I go off and get stoned again that evening, we’re in the town park tonight, its warm, and we talk, giggle and watch the river flow through. we’re free from the stuff we cope with. We’re still kids but today is different, a milestone.

People come and go a lot in the next few weeks its whirlwind of social workers adoption workers care workers, staff come and go, there is hardly any familiarity, I was lucky enough to be able to choose my sons adoptive parents chose a nice couple, didn’t seem wealthy but they seemed happy. my favourite care worker left to go travelling, gave me a demo tape of his band he was managing, still got it, started having guitar lessons great distraction, helped me concentrate on something different for once. spent most of them stoned i didnt care for much at the minute, couldnt concentrate anyway, whether or not i was stoned.

Then the day finally came 27^th may 1999 I had to say goodbye to my baby one of the other care workers takes me to meet my baby’s adoptive parents. I wanted to, just to make sure they were as nice as they looked in the pictures, they were, it was now the worst day of my life, care worker takes me to the pub before its time to say goodbye to my baby, we sit and chat in the beer garden, I stare into my coke, hoping to find an easy simple solution, there isn’t one. This is hard; life doesn’t get any harder than your child being taken away from you for at least the next 18 years, not knowing if you’ll ever see him again.

It’s 1 o’clock we arrive at the main social services building, his social worker is there in the room with him, I can see him from the doorway, he looks happy, if only he knew what was going to happen today, if only he could understand what I was doing, he going to live with someone else, it’s not that I don’t want him, I just can’t look after him. I walk into room, take my baby out of this bouncer he’s in, and cuddle him for what seems like ever, nothing could spoil this moment, and the social worker takes lots of pictures for me. Then me and my baby have a little play on the carpet, he's such a clever baby, so smart, I don’t want to spoil his future with my unpredictability, 3 hours have passed suddenly it’s time to say goodbye, I don’t want too, the social worker literally has to prise him away from, he does love me, he’s known what’s happening and he knows that I’m not going to see him for a lifetime. She takes him out of the room; I’m led away by the care worker. I don’t feel anything I’m numb.

social workers and childrens homes

2009-12-02T13:37:00.000Z

Monday soon came round, a windy day, the seemed angry, I was angry, I didn’t want to be here, I hated being in this place, it was demeaning I felt I didn’t need to be here, I wanted to be with my baby, just us together like it should be, but I couldn’t be with him and it was tearing me apart inside, I can’t live with my baby and I can’t live without him. I had to the doctor again, great more talking, I didn’t want to talk , I didn’t know while I was talking to this doctor, social workers were at my house. Talking to my mum about what was going to happen with my baby. That day, they took my baby away from my parents house, took him out of my little sisters arms. She was distraught.

What was I going to do I wasn’t told that they took my baby into care without telling me, while I was stuck in this mental hospital I wasn’t mental just needed some time out of my life, then a social worker turned up for me I was a still a child, and because I was still a child, someone had to be there for me to see how I was, although my parents weren’t impressed with their sudden involvement, they let them. Couldn’t really say no to social services, because even with the front they put on, they needed the support as much as I did and they all had my best interests regardless of what was happening around me.

So I sit chatting with this social worker, I didn’t like her, she was the bog standard aging social worker you’d imagine, right down to the sandals!! Right now what was best for me, would I like to go home, no I wouldn’t, why would I want to go home, I had nothing for me at home you've just taken my baby away. Where is he? I want to see him, when can I see him? I’m not allowed to see him yet, I've got to let him get settled, he's a six week old baby it isn’t going to take much for him to get settled, I want to see him now! I’m not allowed to see him now, I give up asking. It turns out that not asking means I don’t care.

Two days on, the social worker turns up again, imp leaving hospital, they’ve found me somewhere to go, it’s a children’s home, I’d read Tracy beaker books, so this won’t be too bad, I soon learnt that Tracy beaker is not a particularly true and admittedly I was a bit naive, as to what to expect. But I when I got there I was met by 2 members of staff, nice people, we talked a little, I cried a lot, and a lot more. I was shown my room and where everything was, I’m not sure I was going to like it here, it didn’t seem that it was a good place to be. Caught up in the system of social care, I wasn’t a rebellious child, pretty average, had enough going for me, then I end up here, who’d have it.

Then I met the other kids later on that day, one girl a complete rebellious type, a lot of drugs and drinking, one lad whose parents couldn’t cope with his special needs and one other girl well she was just a nightmare to live with, lived in fantasy land. And there was me, here just because I couldn’t look I look after my baby. I was the most grown up out of these kids, and I knew I didn’t belong here, well I was polite, well mannered and I didn’t kick off if something wasn’t going my way, I suppose to begin with I was the almost perfect person to live with, developed a silly crush on a care worker, because he cared, almost an obsession, wouldn’t talk to anyone else etc and he bent the rules a little bit, not to the point of getting the sack, but he made me feel wanted in the world of the care system when nobody else seemed to care.

It was soon my birthday. I was now 15, with a child in foster care, and me in a children’s home. The cool thing was they bought me a guitar, something my parents never let me have. Then I was led astray, by rebellious girl. It wasn’t difficult to do when I was feeling vulnerable. I’d been in this place a month and what did I do, well I let myself get led astray, I went out with this girl, started drinking, we drank vodka, I was out of my face that night, I’d never got drunk on cider before let alone vodka!! We ended up at a mates house who lived close to town, now it’s a fair walking distance if you go the long way round, I sprained my ankle, kept falling back on it. I didn’t care for much anymore. We get to the door she says to me act straight stand up and don’t say a word go straight to bed, turns out we had a curfew, ah it was 2 hours ago. Oh dear, they catch us, we are asked where have been and what we have been doing, then something snapped inside me, we are 15 I shout and we have been out having fun and doing what normal 15 year olds do, the staff are not impressed. We run about the place laughing giggling, why haven’t I had this kind of freedom before? Actually I quite like it here.

shrinks and shelton

2009-11-27T16:36:00.000Z

I left the bedroom after 2 hours of crying, this woman was there, I still didn’t know who she was, no one told me, but she was nice, I was talking to her for 2 hours, she was a doctor, why did I need 2 doctors? Then I found out she was a psychiatric doctor, the shrink, we talked about how I felt, I was just very tired, I’d been doing everything for my baby night feeds, the lot, I wanted to sleep for days, my mum and dad had the baby in their room that night, so I could sleep properly. I still didn’t sleep properly, he woke me when he wanted feeding in the night, I put a pillow over my head, I didn’t want his feeling to stay, I hated myself for not being able to cope.

The doctors came back in the morning. How was I was fine, I was even holding my baby, look I’m ok, everything’s ok. Then he started crying again, I put him down and ran upstairs, shut the door and sat on the floor against it sobbing, crying till I could cry no more. My older sister came round, and talked to me, your baby needs you, and wants his mum, my reply I don’t want him anymore. I can’t live with this now, I need to be alone, and will people just leave me alone. My mum had been straight on the phone to the psychiatric doctor, and she come out to me again, a dark rainy evening. She calls someone, I don’t know who.

My dad talks to me, we’ve got to go out for a drive, where are we going, hospital he says, we’ve missed the turning for the hospital, I’ve never been up here before, I didn’t know where I was, we pass places I vaguely recognise, I don’t know what kind of hospital it is, we stop. A nurse meets us by the car, she's not even wearing a uniform, just normal clothes, she talks to me very calmly, takes me off my dad, I don’t know what I’m doing here, how did I end up here, I see another doctor, she's nice, she just wants to talk as well, why does everyone want to talk ?

I get taken to a suite I suppose, with two nurses, I have a living room bedroom and bathroom, the nurses never leave my sight, I suppose its just in case, I don’t like them being there, I want to be alone, I don’t get left alone, I don’t think anyone trusts me, I watch TV, I don’t take it in. It could be the funniest thing on TV, but I don’t laugh, its weird here I don’t like it, a little bit scary being watched all the time, I can’t even go to the loo without someone waiting outside the door and asking if I’m ok if I’m in there longer than necessary

I’m terrified of this place, I go to bed its very late in the evening, someone has to watch me though, I can’t sleep for being watched, I lie there waiting, for myself to come to terms with where I am, everything, there’s a million and one things going through my mind, I don’t know why I’m here I’m not mental, I want my baby I want to see him, it’s been 12 hours since I’ve seen him, I want to go home, I’ve never been on my own like this . I feel empty.

Morning came, I knew it was morning because the nurses had swapped, and breakfast had arrived, not that I wanted it, I couldn’t eat when I didn’t know my baby was ok, regardless I still cared for him, I still loved him. I still wanted him with me, no matter what I just needed extra support a lot of support and I wasn’t getting what I needed, that why I was here, no one gave me emotional support when I needed it the most, I was just left to get on with it, the great old fashioned ideas that my parents had. Just get on with it. I’m still a child, and I can’t.

My parents came to see me that afternoon, I couldn’t run away from them so I ignored them, they must’ve found it difficult too, I was their daughter and they loved me, they wanted me well, as much as I wanted to see my own baby, 3 generations of one family in this situation, getting on top of each other, not sure what the next one needed, all I knew was I needed my baby, my poor baby, he was still being looked after by my parents., they left him with my older sister that day. I was angry at them for doing so, why take away the opportunity for me to see my baby. My parents go home. They leave me alone and scared again, im scared, alone and 14.

children having children

2009-11-25T09:26:00.001Z

So here I was 14 and very pregnant waiting for the day to come, I didn’t want to get rid of this baby, I knew I didn’t want to have him adopted, but I never told anyone, I want to live happily ever after with my baby, regardless of the suffering and pain I’d already put him through. I loved him, really loved him, a mother’s love the strongest thing possible, the only thing in the world that seems to make a difference. I was going to keep my baby there was no way after all the pain I’d been through I could give him away now, people would help me, wouldn’t they? I have family, we’re close, I think.

I went into labour at 3.30 on the 20th Jan 1999, woke up with extremely bad back ache, I didn’t know it was labour at the time, I was just in agony I’d never felt pain so bad in my entire life, I woke my mum, who was just getting my dad up anyway he started work in an hour. I couldn’t stop screaming in this god forsaken pain, mum phoned an ambulance, I had to speak to the operator, I couldn’t it hurt too much, ambulance came, in the back of it, they seemed to drive over every pothole and bump in the road, it hurt I was screaming, my mum tried to soothe me, I couldn’t stop hurting, I was given gas and air, then pethidine, it was too late for an epidural, if only I’d known that I had 17 hours left of this pain and agony. They don’t tell you this bit in school the pain, the agony,

Baby came at 7.23pm that evening, a 7lb 10 ounce, little boy, he was gorgeous, I didn’t hate him, I loved him but every time I went near him I cried, he was a wonderful baby, hardly made a fuss at all, it took me 3 days before I could hold him without crying, before that he’d been in the nursery room, being cared for by lots of different people when he should have been with me, I still loved him, then she came, the adoption woman, she’d brought forms to sign, I won’t sign them, I don’t want give my baby away . I love him, I held him for hours that day, wouldn’t put him down I never meant to hurt him, and I didn’t want him to leave me. He loved me. Regardless I was his mother.

I didn’t sign those papers, my mum took my side, she loved babies and she loved this one more so, he was her 2nd grandchild, she never really agreed with getting the adoption people involved that was my dad’s doing. I think that her agreeing with me and wanting to keep the baby she was somehow sticking up for me and making a stand against my dad. So now here I was with my mum at my side and my dad easily convinced by my mum that we’ll manage, and my baby. Finally I could give him a name, now he was mine.

I spent another week in hospital learning how to be a mother, I didn’t have a clue, and I was never a girly girl. So helpful midwifes and nurses showed me what to do, my mum showed me a lot too, silly little things like how to bath him, how change his nappy, Yuk that was gross. Here I am at 14 trying to be a grown up playing that game once more this game was the hardest thing I’d ever done.

So we took him home everyone was quite happy, health visitor was happy when she saw us, my dad had finally come round to the idea, my younger sister adored him, we always used to argue but now I had more important things to do, I was enjoying myself and playing this little game, mum and dad knew I was responsible now it wasn’t just me, I was a mother and my child was now the most important thing in the world. I loved him and he loved me.

4 weeks later, I was still going through the motions of parenting pretending everything was ok, it wasn’t ok, I didn’t want to do this anymore, I still loved him but something was wrong I didn’t know what, the novelty had worn off I suppose, here I am giving my child as much love and care that he needed and more, the health visitor spotted something, kept asking how I was feeling, I’m feeling ok, he’s doing ok isn’t he? Yes he’s fine. Then that’s ok then. That was Wednesday by Friday evening, I wouldn’t go near him. I still loved him I just couldn’t cope anymore.

Friday morning I got up with him, fed him dressed him had a big cuddle and played with him, I think he smiled at me, mum told me not to be silly it was probably wind, I didn’t I think he knew I loved him like any mother would love her child, and I did, whatever pain and grief I’d suffered and I did. That was the hardest part. Soon it was nap time, he fell asleep in my arms, and I looked down at his soft sleeping face and smiled at him. Inside I knew I couldn’t do this anymore. I felt ill, and then I fell asleep until he woke up again.

Then he started crying, he wanted feeding again, I asked my mum to feed him. She asks me if I’m ok, yeah I’m fine, I’m not I’m mentally and physically exhausted. I can’t take anymore; I don’t know who I am or what I’m doing. I go upstairs and I cry forever, I do the silly teenage thing of blocking myself in my room so no one else can get in. My mum comes up the stairs and tries to talk me out, my dad tries his way of shouting “dawn don’t be stupid, get out here now you’ve got a baby to look after” then another voice it’s the family doctor, I don’t move for over an hour, she's still here, then another woman turns up, I don’t know who she is, an unfamiliar voice, I don’t want to hurt myself not this time, I move furniture, I don’t know how it got there, its heavy as my aching body pushes back where it belongs.

maternity and christmas

2009-11-23T22:39:00.000Z

I left casualty later on that afternoon and was taken off to maternity, too much of a risk for kids ward apparently, I suppose they must’ve debated where to put me, to be honest, I would’ve in that situation, 14 year old girl possible liver damage due to overdose, yet pregnant, erm baby or mother?? They’re not capable of doing both to be honest, so off I went along the corridors, the long dragging corridors of the local hospital, my eyes closed hiding from the world, yet puffy from crying so much, I’d stopped physically crying but the pain inside my mind tore me into a thousand little pieces, it was never ending and it was going to get worse, the mental anguish was going to tear through me and haunt me every day.

After being checked out by the obstetrician I was off to a little room, a side room away from the other older mums to be, stuck in a room at the end of the ward, waiting for what was to come later on that evening, my mum had gone home at this point, she’d left me to fetch pyjamas and make me a bit comfortable, oh yes, this was comfortable wasn’t it? all nice and cosy, in a strange place all on my own at 14, regardless of how grown up we like to act at 14, we never are, the child in us is still succeeding in winning the fight to escape and the adult wants to stay hidden away for as long as mentally possible, I was still trying to be this child although I was playing at being a grown up, the whole game that got me where I was.

The evening soon came round, visiting hours again, this time my dad came, I pretend to sleep for a whole 2 hours, all I could hear were hushed voices, my dad blaming my mum, poor mum, always a little bit downtrodden by him, never violent or abuse, I think she grew up where granddad was always in control, and I suppose after over 20 years with dad she’d gotten used to it, I hated him for it. Anyway how was it my mum’s fault? It was my fault, no one else to blame but me, well apart from the matter of a teenage boy who’d find out soon enough (through the local gossip) and probably panic like hell, I never bothered telling my dad or anyone for that matter, who the boy was, did it matter? No, it didn’t, it was purely consensual regardless of age, what would difference would it make if this poor innocent boy, who was still out playing on his bmx got involved as well, none in my eyes, and until this day no one except me, knows who he is, and the thing is he’s still right on my doorstep. We don’t talk anymore. he knows it was his child deep down.

I was eventually left alone by my extremely disappointed parents, and joined by a nurse/midwife she was very friendly very chatty and she listened even if I didn’t say anything she listened, she knew how I was feeling, I don’t know how I knew but she’d suffered a little bit, in some aspect of her life, you know when you can just sense things, well I could, and it was amazing, just having somebody who didn’t judge, didn’t pressurise me, not once did she ask why, it was brilliant. Although thinking back, she was a grown up and it was nice not be pressured by a grown up, parents teachers and such like, I hated authority, and because I was being forced into adulthood, I hated it, the responsibility of this thing, yet still a child. She made the tiniest differences to those last few hours of that day, thinking back actually she was probably sent to watch me, just in case, even though she was nice, she probably drew the short straw and I was her bad day.

I get woken at 7 for breakfast, 7 for breakfast??!! It’s not like I have to be at school or anything, I saw this as day off school for a moment, then it hits me, well actually kicks me from the inside, the thing has awoken, I hated this poor innocent child for he’d done and he hadn’t even seen daylight. I’ve never hated him as much as I hated myself though, I cry again, and again, then a tall woman enters my room, it’s been two hours since breakfast, this woman wasn’t a nurse, she didn’t have a uniform on, and she wasn’t a doctor, ‘hello dawn’ , here I am thinking oh my god, she’s a psychologist, she’s come to talk to me about my problem, she’s going to judge me, what waste of time this all going to be I’m not insane, or even depressed, well I’m not without this thing anyway. Quite happy, bit of a loner, but I like it. ‘I’m from the adoption agency’, oh dear this was worse than I thought, she’s come to make arrangements for taking him off me, then my mind alters, I think I love him, I never tried to kill him, I just wanted to get attention, all this and only 8 eight weeks left until he was born,

So we talked, and then my mum turned up, she’d betrayed me, she told the adoption worker that I wanted the baby adopted, I never said that, not once did I ever say I wanted to get rid of this thing, my baby, suddenly he was my baby, not this thing and no one was ever going to take him away from me, I never spoke up though, I went along with the motions every time I saw this woman, she nice but ultimately she was going to take my baby away from me, no she couldn’t, I won’t let her and I was stubborn about it for the next few weeks.

Christmas came theyre sticking decorations, to the window of my room, they let me stick a cotton wool snowman on mine, it was funny, middle of december it was now, 2 weeks i'd been hospital, for my childs health, lots of mums came and went, i didnt speak to them, i didnt want them to know me, it was still my secret, i didnt like grown ups, and then christmas suddenly went, what a bad time that was, having family over for lovely happy cheerful dinners haha, laughing at shit christmas cracker jokes, and eating mince pies til they made you heave. I never went anywhere when I went home, for the entire 5 or 6 weeks, well not without my mum anyway, she was my rock throughout those weeks and made sure I was ok, I never spoke to my dad though, I just couldn’t face him. I think I was ashamed that I’d spoilt his image of me, his little girl, oh dear, he needed to realise. That I wasn’t anymore.