Reconcile Magazine March 2019

Then the day came that I would go into labor. I was home alone. My parents had gone to Newcastle as usual on that
particular day of the week. My back started to ache very badly so I decided to get in the bathtub and see if it would ease
the pain. I hadn’t been in there long when my folks came home. I shouted for my mother and told her about the pain.
She told me I was in labor and had my dad call for an ambulance. They took me to the local hospital where my son
would be born a short time later. After a few stitches, I was taken to the maternity ward to be greeted by a bunch of new
mothers. None of them knew my story and they quite naturally thought I would be keeping this big beautiful baby.
I wanted to give my son everything I could and I knew that to breast feed a child for however long or short a time
would help him. So I did that. He was a hungry little fella and I cherished every moment I held him in my arms. I
wanted to make memories in my heart and mind that no one could take away from me. This baby, this wonderful,
beautiful child, was my last remaining part of Paul and I was giving him away. Was I crazy? I was sure I was for a few
moments then I remembered something a friend had said to me. If you love something let it go and it will come back
one day. The thing in this case was my son. How was I ever going to do that? Well, a few days later I was about to find
out. I was feeding my son when a nurse came into the ward and said to get him ready. The authorities had sent someone
to pick him up. All I could think was my breasts are full of milk. My baby needs that milk. As I took my son off the
breast, milk was flowing everywhere, but I had to get him dressed. I couldn’t fill my eyes enough, or my mind with
what he looked like. I was drinking in every feature. Then all of a sudden, the nurse was back, she took my child and
told me to get dressed. I was going home. I felt like I was in a whirl wind. Everything was happening so quickly. I don’t
remember clearly what happened after that other than I was at home with pills to stop the milk and no son. I had gotten
to be very good at hiding my feelings. I don’t think my family ever realized the heart ache I was going through. I talked
a lot with my sister. I spent hours at her home talking about Paul and my baby. There were times I was sure I was
driving her batty. All I could talk about was Paul and how much I missed my beautiful son.
I knew I had to put that part of my life behind me. I went out and got a new job working for a company I had
worked for years before. I threw myself into my work. I was good at it and had a great reputation with the owner of this
huge national company. Then one day, I was pulling this box down from a high shelf and it hit me in my breast. The
pain that went through me was dreadful, so on the way home I dropped by my doctors office. I was informed that I had
a boil on my breast and he would have to lance it. That didn’t happen. The thing just burst from fright when I saw that
little knife. The doctor cleaned me up and dressed it. Told me to put a poultice on it till the core came out and I would
be fine. If it got too painful just get two bowls; one with warm and one with cool water and alternate dipping my breast
in each one. What a mess! But it worked. It left a hole about as big as the head of a pin. I healed quickly and it was
soon gone. I did ask my doctor how I had gotten a boil there. He said I had been through a lot of trauma in the last few
months, so it wasn’t surprising. All that stress and I was trying to keep it all hidden. He said that your body gets run
down when you go through some rough times and your body can break down in some way. In my case, a boil. Amazing
how the devil will throw stuff at you to bring back painful memories. It was only a month since I gave my baby away
and I was still suffering, but I knew I had to be strong and fight my thoughts, otherwise I would be a basket case. Those
thoughts kept on coming just the same. Sometimes I was able to suppress them. Other times, if I was alone I would let
the tears flow.
Over the next two or three years I began to mend. I threw myself into all kinds of things. I started flying again. I
worked hard I was given a store of my own to manage not far from the one I was working at. I did well at my job and
was offered a deal I couldn’t refuse and was eventually given a store further away. It meant traveling a much longer
distance to work on a bus and I wouldn’t get home at night till 7pm so I was up at 6 am and on the bus by 7 am. Long
days. I used that time to try and put Paul behind me. I could never understand why he had never told me he was married
or why he would just leave without telling me he was going. We had loved each other so much. I was at a loss. I used
to try and keep myself busy on the bus by doing the Daily Telegraph crossword. But my thoughts would wander to my
son. Where was he? What were his adopted parents like? Were they treating him well? Over a long period of time the
pain of loss began to subside, but it never went completely away.
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