I got on the train....All of my heart was dragging my body back onto the platform, to the scarey life of families and house and shops and babies, but for some strange reason my head was pushing me onto the train and shutting the door. The tears were pouring silently down my face as I stood at the window , and all I could say was "sorry, im sorry , im sorry".
I didnt understnad it, and neither did he, neither did the people in the carriage who had to listen to me sob, and sob for miles . And as each mile passed and each tear fell onto the british rail seat I felt as if I was sinking into a deep hole and at the same time I felt free, freer than I had done for a long time,,, talk about a screw up!
I retuned to Plymouth, to a rented flat with an outside toilet and a desperate need to pee all night long, the spring started off cold, and I spent all night going outside to pee, and then got so cold that I needed another pee, so back outside again. So i invested in a bucket. Only if you have been pregnanat can you know that feeling of I NEED TO PEE AND I NEED TO PEE NOW.
We still talked on the phone and we still wrote, but there was a distance between us that wasnt just miles,it was a distnace made by fear and the feelings of being let down.
The sun started to shine again in late May and I was in my element, the size of a house, lying on the beach in devon with a hole dug for my bump. As the weeks got nearer and I got larger my sister had bought me a book about pregnancy and child birth... I was scared....so read "your 8th month and then ...Your new baby" and left out the labour chapter in the hope that if I ignored it it would just go away.
I had managed to tell my parents that I was pregnant, in April, as they were coming to visit in May, my father was just silent (as always) and my mothers famous welcome to my unbornchild was "If it comes out black Im having nothing to do with it", you can imagine how happy that made me, so i had told her to stuff it and if she was going to be like that I wouldnt let her see the baby anyway.
Then out of the blue, about 10 days before my due date, he arrived again to see me...I was looking great.... large, suntanned and happy....who could resist that...I remember the day we spent in bed.............somehow I knew it would be the last, how or where I got the energy from I will never know, had I not have been vastly pregnant I certainly would have been by the end of that day.
He told me he was confused, he didnt know what to do, he didnt think he could look after a baby, he didnt understand why I had run away, but he cared very much about me, but.......he had met someone else and he didnt know what to do.
I told him to go away and think about everything and that I would call him soon, or when I went into labour............we werent angry with each other we were both just very sad,I was even too sad to cry. All I could do was wrap my arms around my bump and reassure mysel that we would be ok...somehow
