Baby mine

 

I couldn't quite decide whether to post this on my main blog or my bpd blog, then I realized i didn't give a deep-fried shit and carried on typing. 

I've touched upon this topic before, but never really talked about it much. It's always been something I'd brushed off, pretended it didn't happen. But I have a lot of feelings now, so maybe I'll deal with part of it, but I probably won't. 

When I met Rob, it was through a guy that lived below him, his name was Jake. Dancing around the facts, eventually I ended up meeting his friend Olly who, unintentionally, got me pregnant. He didn't know, I didn't know, and no one found out until months later when I realized that the inexplicable bleeding I'd experienced the night after I took the morning after pill as a result of sleeping with someone else was more than just a bad period. There'd been a baby inside me. 

Now I've never wanted kids, I've always said I'd be a terrible parent, but the baby that I'd been pregnant with would have been turning 8 or 9 now. In my head, they either don't exist, or they're still a new born.  Hallucinating earlier, I thought they were in my arms and I placed what I thought was them in the back of my closet and taped the door shut, desperate to keep them safe. I still don't know how I should feel about, that's just it, I don't know what it's about. Do I say it? Do I say, child? The person I was with at the time I miscarried told me he'd kick a baby out of me if he found out I was pregnant and, at the time, I thought it was funny. Looking back, that wasn't funny, that was just an example of the kind of person he was. 

I'm tired now, and I don't really know how to feel this evening. But, whatever happens, I know that when I close my eyes I saw my baby, and when I wrapped my arms around them I wanted to keep them safe. 

xXx