The thing with 12
Esmee
Pregnancy
made a woman fatter, baby and fluid swelled inside the uterus and as the weeks
rolled by counting down to the big day the weight increased. I would be
expected to put on up to 40lbs in the next six months and I told myself that it
would all be OK, that for my baby I could grow and I would eat because I loved
her and I honestly wouldn’t care what I saw in the mirror. I loved my unborn
child she was precious new and a gift and above all she had hung on for me
against the odds, against how anorexia and bulimia had destroyed my fertility
and left my body unable to support the promise of new life
When I was a
teenager and in the throes of it I didn’t care about children or what they
meant. I never thought I would find someone like Emmet who loved me and would
want to grant me such treasures. I was being abused and I had learnt from my
abuser that sexual expenses just hurt and if a woman could violate me the
thought of a man just terrified me. After all like most girls I had been warned
that some men could be sexual predators that they would pray on girls. I knew
that no man was allowed to force you into sex and that rape was wrong and
should have been reported but they never mentioned a woman who always came in
when you showered… With a woman I was lost, all I knew was I wanted it to stop
and a sure fire way was to die. In short I wanted to die not have kids, they
didn’t matter and by starving myself I was reaching beyond a place even Julie
could get to, then I found hope and I got better and I wanted the normal things
and eventually I got them and I was happy. I managed to stay calm even if I was
falling apart. Stupid things like a few extra pounds didn’t matter. That was until
that morning at around week 12 gestation my size 12 jeans would simply not do
up.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.