The Day My World Fell Apart

The Beginning

October 21st 2002 was the night of our first date. Within a week we were in love and exectly a week later we made love for the first time. Since then we have hardly been apart, and on 23rd June he proposed.

I'm 21, he's 24. Some people say we are too young to know what we are doing, but we have been through more than most people only think about.

It happened sometime in March. One of our little hats failed to do its job, only we didn't notice, and I got pregnant.

Not such a bad thing, we were excited but terrified at the same time. When we were alone we called each other Mummy and Daddy. We would rest our hands on my stomach knowing that something we had created was in there, waiting to come out and let us look after and love it. I was certain it was a boy, but he wasn't so sure.

At the time the only problem we had was my parents. I was living with them at the time. They're rather old fashioned. We knew that if they found out I would be thrown out of the house, and he would have had to support me. Us.

So we didn't tell them. Everything was going fine. Then morning sickness kicked in.

I stayed in bed until midday, unable to move. I couldn't eat, I could hardly drink. My body started to shrink. My friends, who were also kept in the dark were alarmed at the changes in me.

Eventually, things started to go wrong. At first the baby was fine. Healthy. But after a while my body couldn't cope with two people to look after, and I was advised to have an abortion.

We were terrified. We wanted to keep it, but if we did there was a strong risk that neither I or the child would survive childbirth. So we chose me.

On the 6th June 2003 at about ten thirty in the morning I went into theatre with child, and came out alone.

Out of the 9 weeks I had been pregnant I had only known about it for 6, but even so I missed it terribly. I would have done anything to get it back, but I can't.

My fiance stood by me the whole way. If he left me now I would be finished. I can't live without him.

Everywhere I look I see mothers with their children. They look happy. I failed at motherhood before the child had even been born. Perhaps I wasn't ready, but I would have tried. I'll never know now.

We never told anybody about how we nearly became parents, a family. I thought I could cope. But now my best friend is pregnant. She tells me all about it, what's happening to her body, how she feels.

I keep wanting to tell her that I know what it's like, but I can't. I'm scared. One day it'll happen again and I can tell everybody. I'm not going through it again. I don't care what happens. We're keeping the next one.

I want to walk into his office, sit him down and tell him that he's going to be a daddy. It's a dream of mine. Call me daft if you will, but it's what I want.

It took me a long time to get over it, and in some ways I still hurt. I know that he doesn't blame me, which is the best healer there is is. I need his love like a drug. A big part of me still blames me. I should have been stronger, looked after myself throughout my life. But I didn't and it's over now.

Life carries on. But his never started.

The end.