The abandoned child

This is quite possibly one of the hardest blogs I’ve ever written. Even more so than The Real Daddy Hew . My boy, Henry George, is three months old. It’s an amazing mile stone. He’s much more alert. He smiles. He recognises my voice. He smiles when he farts. Don’t get me wrong, he still isn’t sleeping particularly well and the patience of a saint is required. This mile stone, turning three months, has scared me since the day he was born. I was three months old when the woman who gave birth to me abandoned me.

It’s no secret that I only wanted one child. In fact, growing up, I didn’t actually want to have kids. I never thought I would be a good father. I never thought I could care for another human in the way it deserves. When Mummy Hew and I got together my views changed. We decided we wanted to start a family. We got married. Gracie was born. Life was perfect. I loved, and still love , Gracie like she is the only little girl on the planet. She’s so precious. She’s my world. Once she was born I was adamant we would only have one child. I couldn’t imagine loving another child the same way. I didn’t want a second child to be second best. Deep down I was scared. I was scared that the woman who gave birth to me would come out. I was scared that if we had another child I would follow in her footsteps and abandon that child.

Mummy Hew and I talked about whether to extend our family after having Gracie. Mummy Hew longed for a second child. It took me the best part of three years to get my head round having another child.

When I was born, I was born into a family as a second child. My sister is 18 months older than me. To this day she is a right pain in the arse but I would do anything for her.

My father met the woman who gave birth to me when they were both young. They had my sister when she was 18 and my Father was 21. They had a turbulent relationship…so I am told. They decided, or rather mistakenly, fell pregnant with another child….me.

My father and woman who gave birth to me got married in the December after I was born (I was born in September). They felt that getting married would help repair their relationship. Well it didn’t work. A few weeks after they got married she walked out on us, never to be seen again.

I was bought up by my Father, he went on to remarry. He met my step mother when I was a year old. She is, and always has been my Mum.

I met the woman who gave birth to me when I was 15 years old. We didn’t get on. Quite frankly I thought she was a cunt. I hated her. I hated what she did to my sister and I. I hated that she walked away from two babies. Never paid a penny towards them. She managed to fulfil a happy life, well sort of. She remarried three times. Had another child. Remained oblivious that there were two kids out there who longed to meet their mother. To understand and learn about their roots.

My sister and I used to tell each other stories about what our birth mother would be like, the things she would have bought us. The love she would have given. But the sad reality is, she didn’t bother. We’ve never seen a birthday or Christmas card. We’ve never had a penny from her. We’ve never truly understood why she actually left…..left a newborn baby without any food. I can’t get my head round it.

Now I’m older, it’s clear to me that she must have been suffering with some sort of post natal depression. But all those years later, when I met her, she still didn’t care.

It broke my heart. I remember being a teenager longing for her to be the person I always dreamed of. It never happened.

It’s taken me years to get over the fact I was the unwanted child. I’ve cried countless tears….and for what?? A stranger who didn’t want to know her kids?!

Now Henry has reached his three month mile stone it’s time to put this all behind me, to formally move on. I was scared I would be just like her. Other than her horrendous nose that was passed into me I’m nothing like her. She’s a monster.

I recognise that mental health post partum can be horrendous….but does that really go on for 10, 15, 20, 30 years?! It doesn’t make sense to me.

I’m glad we made the decision to have kids and to build our family. It’s the best thing I have ever done. I don’t know why I ever doubted myself. I could never walk away from my babies. I couldn’t leave them. I don’t understand how a mother could abandon their babies.

So here we are. 30 years later. I have the perfect family. What have I got to worry about? She’s the one that’s missed out on bringing up this fucking legend. She most definitely won’t have anything to do with my babies.

So Henry, you little three month beauty…this Daddy won’t be going anywhere! You’re stuck with me.