Ah…memories!

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So my youngest was 23 today. (1/10/14)
For some bizarre reason I was up til gone 4am last night…
Naiomi was born at 3:45ish resulting in the beginning of ‘those’ sleepless nights which I’m not convinced you ever really recover from. Anyway, as usual, I found myself running through those now-tarnished memories of the whole thing. The moment of realisation, the rush to get the car, the ‘oh God! my waters have broken’ etc etc until that bizarre moment when this tiny, odd-looking creature emerges and suddenly every thought, every emotion, every follow-on thought from that moment on changes, for – e – ver !
But…….
It’s now over twenty one years since my gorgeous, precious, perfect child was cut from me, torn from my embrace, a gaping hole left where love had been expected to thrive forever, such a feeling of contentment, the most intense emotion I have ever felt, irreplaceable, to be displaced within her mother’s court-protected, signed, sealed, solicitor-endorsed bosom where she could be indoctrinated with the filth and hatred of someone who played such a tiny yet crucial part in my history. As if betrayal wasn’t enough…she had to take the one thing I couldn’t live without.
We did briefly have contact, online, around five years ago but the intervening years haven’t done my case any good. Naiomi ‘didn’t want to establish a relationship with me’.
I, of course, plead not guilty to any charge of misconduct. My ex had an affair. I have not/would not/will never indulge in subterfuge or violence where the female is concerned but regardless, my part in my daughter’s life has been reconfigured to that of sperm donor and apparent miscreant, an undesirable with nothing to offer.
The truth is that after so many years of character assassination and the debilitating effects of the chronic depression I’ve suffered ever since (I was, probably still am, totally unable to cope with the separation.) I finally came to the conclusion some years ago that my best option was to keep a distance until Naiomi, hopefully, decided to come and find me.
Well, that didn’t work out so well!
I had quite a serious breakdown not long after reluctantly breaking contact with her. My youngest sort-of-step-daughter, Natalie, was sectioned not long after (we think it’s undiagnosed schizophrenia) and to my shame I began to fall apart some months later. Recognising the signs I managed to settle my affairs and escape back here to the Isle of Wight but; well, things are better now; for me. Natalie’s never coming back, at least not the girl I knew. So, I lost another one and to top if off her elder sister is having problems with heroin so I’ve lost her too, temporarily I hope.
No such thing as happy endings. It’s good to know Naiomi’s healthy and she appears to be living a good life, boyfriend, friends, all the usual stuff. You never know, one day she might find out the truth but I’m not sure it matters any more. Eventually there comes a point where too much time has passed, too many negatives build up to be resolved easily plus I have to remind myself I’m not stable enough to deal with the stress these days. The pills work but the darkness is always in my peripheral vision. Those that matter understand.
I just hope she continues to enjoy every moment. There’s a lot of good stuff going on, I remind myself every day.
I write: I attempt poetry and use my experiences in my novels to inform my readers of shared emotions, the ups and downs everyone has to face and there are a lot of people far worse off than I am.
I have no doubt she had a happy birthday: good. That is a good thing.

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