not really wife material…1992

I was talking with my youngest daughter last night…about her father. I hadn’t realized how little I had told her. And as we talked, I realized why.

I had made sure I didn’t bad mouth him after we separated. I made sure they always thought well of him and that he was portrayed in a good light. If I needed to vent, I did it away from them. And I endured his bullshit for years, so they could grow up with a good view of him. Admirable I think; realistic, I’m not so sure.


I had decided I wanted to go back to school somewhere around this time. So I did…I just did English and Human Biology I think. I wanted to return to dancing, eventually teaching or choreography…Omg…I’d forgotten that! SO, I did distance learning…and I started Ballet again. I sat my English exam and passed as the top two in the school that I had sat the exam at. I was stoked…stunned…but stoked lol. I didn’t finish Human Biology…turns out I can’t dissect anything that’s raw lol…and cooking a chicken thigh before dissecting doesn’t really have the same effect duh.

I also started loosing my shit…I mean…there were certain things ‘expected’ of me, as a wife…well there was pressure…from husband, family and church. And I just couldn’t live up to the fuckers! Real and imagined! I didn’t realize how lonely marriage was going to be. And while the husband was a decent man, as in he worked, he provided, he wasn’t physically abusive … the dude never talked! Never. And because I was starting to unravel what my past had ‘done to me’ I suppose, I really wanted some verbal security…understanding. To be fair though…he was as unable to deal with my shit as I was! And I wasn’t really made for being wife material. I ended up in counseling…the first of many along the way.

That was painful but enlightening; terrifying but freeing. I was able to speak to a lot of the stuff that had happened, which was a first. What I didn’t know then though, was that If you start picking the scab, without the right band-aid at the ready, you bleed all over the fucking place!

This was the beginning of ACC files and claims…possible laying charges…having to confront my Grandparents with the truth…letting family know what had happened…remembering dates and evetns…our laws…learning the shittiness of our system…and I was still petrified of the pedo cunt. He was living at my grandparents…still frothing at the mouth whenever he got slightly pissed off…ranting on about Hitler and the pigs…blah blah…fucken psycho.

In amongst all this, we had decided we might try for a baby. First time I had ever thought about planning something like that! And I hadn’t really thought I would have anymore children…the first pregnancy and birthing had been such a frightening experience…joyous…but frightening…that I’d pretty much ditched the whole idea. And then having had an abortion, it felt like I shouldn’t be having more children if I couldn’t have had that one. Needless to say I was a bit of an emotional wreck.

So we decided I’d come off contraception…another wonderous thing a woman has to think about! I’d been on the jab since the abortion and was told that after 2-3 years it would be unlikely that I’d conceive straight away. Well hello…how wrong were they! 2 minutes later…well there abouts…I was pregnant with my next baby 🙂

It was a difficult pregnancy and I bled for most of it. I ended up in hospital and they operated thinking she was in my tubes. When that danger had passed they pretty much sent me home and told me to wait till I lost her, naturally. I howled…again. I really, really wanted this baby. Really wanted her.

She stayed right where she was supposed too 🙂

I wrote this for her a couple of years ago…for her 20th birthday…

“Late 1992 I became pregnant again and at approximately 8 weeks, exploratory surgery was needed to see if the pregnancy was ectopic. When it was confirmed that it wasn’t the prognosis was sympathetic but grim…stating that “the ball of tissue was not developed yet and would probably come away naturally”. We stayed in the hospital that night and I cried. Up until this point I was fearful of being a mum again…afraid I’d get it wrong. That night I cried for my baby because the desire and love to have it was stronger than the feeling of fear.

[Eventually] we welcomed a healthy baby girl into the world. Her name waited for her just like I had been. It was unusual and beautiful.

Everyone says their child is special or beautiful…and in their eyes, they are. But my girl…..when I first saw her I knew she was touched by a special kind of love….the kind that can’t be taught, or trained into a person. The kind that her sister also has, but in a different form…The kind that moves a soul, calms a spirit…can embrace life and death….the kind that can feel energy and breath….can understand the enormity of life in the wings of a moth and the twinkle of a star. The kind that can silence a storm and create one all in the same breath. The kind that comes from the bosom of Iho and leaves an imprint on your soul when you’re in their presence.

This was her. I knew she wasn’t my doing…and what she had, while I didn’t completely understand it then, I knew needed to be protected.

And that is what I did.

And she is beautiful beyond belief.

I am proud to be your Mum…and I love you more than my life. You, and your sister, are my greatness.
The world is a better place for you being in it. And I am a better person for knowing you.

So my girl…I love you… I wish you great happiness for every tear you’ve cried….i wish you contentment for every frustration you have ever felt. Be nothing but yourself…you were born perfect…and you just have to be you.

Happy Birthday, love from your Mum x”

While I waited for her to be born, the stress between her father and I, increased. He decided I was ‘different’…’fatter and not like when I met you’. What a terd. No shit ay…I was pregnant! He also decided to do a bit of ‘confession’ and soul exorcising…possibly not the best time, in amongst my fear, anxiety and hormones! But during this confession time he told me things that I knew would have effected my decision to marry him, if I had of known beforehand. He knew this too, and had purposefully not told me, knowing I wouldn’t have married him.

I felt trapped, and angry…extrememly angry. For me, freedom of choice is everything…its a basic human right as far as I’m concerned. And when it’s violated, its pretty hard to come back from.


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