Doing it alone..

Ask yourself these questions…..

Have you ever felt in a position where you feel alone during your pregnancy. Even after your beautiful baby has arrived??

Have you got or had an unsupportive partner who was selfish and only cared about his own needs and not yours or your child’s??

Has or is your partner emotionally and economically abusing you??

Have you fallen pregnant and felt like you don’t want this baby and you wished you were not pregnant?

Have you suffered with depression before and after your pregnancy?

Did you have a traumatic experience with the birth of your baby and found it hard to move forward from that?


I would like you to meet Mary-Anne..

A very good friend of mine and also my next-door neighbour..

Over time as I have gotten to know Mary-Anne  she has opened up to me and shared her stories and journeys..

This is one amazing women. Women that I have the privilege of knowing. A women who has so much strength, courage and such a beautiful soul even after a lot of the painful crap she has been through…

A beautiful Mum to two amazing kids…. Someone who will put you first and do anything to help you out…

Mary-Anne would like to share her Pregnancy and Birthing journey with you.

She is very open about her struggles and gives you an idea and look into what its like to have an emergency C-section.

This is her story…………………..

I was 25 years old when I became pregnant with my first born, I had been putting off having kids to build our house and pay some of our mortgage off but having kids was always part of the plan.

I was very depressed and was on antidepressants and was in a job that made me miserable.  Although I had been putting off having children, the decision to start trying was made very quickly, sadly my dad passed away in June 2007 very suddenly and three short months after my Mama (grandmother) passed away from cancer so it suddenly hit me that by putting off having children my children had now missed out on meeting two of the most important people in our family which devastated me at the time and life as I knew it seemed too short to put off anymore.

We started trying pretty much straight away after that.  It took a fair few months before we conceived but finally it happened and we were all so happy, it gave my mum something to look forward to and live for after losing her husband and mother in the space of three months. We were all happy at the thought of a new baby arriving in the family as there hadn’t been a baby for about 10-12 years on my mum’s side of the family.

I was so thrilled to be expecting a baby and I also loved the fact it was also going to get me away from my job that I felt miserable and trapped in… well for 12 months at least.  The doctor told me that my antidepressant medication was fine to take while pregnant but not a lot of research had been done on its effects during the delivery phase.

I didn’t have an easy pregnancy, I had very bad nausea and vomiting every night until 20 weeks and the worst part about this was that I worked in a deli, so at 5am in the morning I would be loading raw fish and chicken into the display cases and working with food all day (Yucky!!!) many a gagging moment was had.  We decided that we would find out the sex of the baby because I so wanted to name my baby after my late father and late brother, not that I wouldn’t be happy with a beautiful healthy girl. I didn’t want that moment of slight disappointment in not being able to carry on my father and brothers names should I be having a girl.

As we kept it quiet except immediate family, I won’t tell you yet loll.  At 20 weeks the nausea and vomiting subsided and I thought I was feeling much better but then it was discovered that my blood pressure was becoming alarmingly high.  At 22 weeks I was diagnosed with mild preeclampsia. My pregnancy was now considered high risk and I was advised to give up work … “oh what a shame I won’t be smelling that fish and chicken at 5am and getting up at 3am to go to work”

We lived in a rural , that being said it made things extremely difficult financially as this was my first child I didn’t qualify for any government assistance and my husband only bought home just over $500 a week, My husband was very much a believer of this is my money and what you earn is your money. We held separate accounts and I soon found out that even though I now had no income and we were about to become a real family, his attitude toward money remained the same.

Needless to say the stress of this didn’t exactly help lower my blood pressure and by 35 weeks I was admitted to Bendigo Base Hospital (which was 1.5 hours away from home as being high risk the regional and more local hospital was not equipped to care for a premature baby if I should need to deliver)  I was told I would have to stay there at the hospital until the baby was born.

Being pregnant and told I would have to stay that far away from all my family in a place I hardly knew, I bawled my friggin’ eyes out.  I spent the first week in the ward being sucked of blood samples two-three times a day for testing, blood pressure checks three-four times a day and foetal monitoring twice a day, it was draining, exhausting and so damn hard to sleep in those stupid hospital beds and my hips ached so damn much the only way I slept a couple of nights was literally on all fours on the bed with my forehead resting on the raised bed end …. yes I did get quite a few questions from the staff over what I was doing.

The second week they decided I could move over to the patient apartments on the hospital site, for regional patients that had to travel they’re for treatment.  It was a little more homely though it still had a 24/7 nurse there and I still had daily trips to the maternity clinic for foetal monitoring daily and had the lovely task of 24 hour urine collection for testing every second day and still getting twice a day blood pressure checks.  I only stayed there for about 4 days and I was admitted back on the ward due to the protein in my urine causing them to be concerned about my kidney and liver function.

I managed to hang on and on the morning of 37 weeks I was woken at 7am and told it’s a great day to have a baby!! (I wasn’t given my antidepressant medication just to be safe) I was in shock as I’d had no idea they were planning to induce me this day.  I had my shower and shaved my legs and everything ready for my baby’s arrival and headed off to the delivery suite.

I was put on a drip and the doctor came to check if my cervix was favourable in order to break my waters and induce labour.  Unfortunately my cervix was not cooperating and so the dreaded process of applying gel to my cervix began.  I don’t know what other women experience here but that shit stung so badly and it was very uncomfortable while they applied it.  Throughout this day I had gel applied four times, four times too many and I was crying.

I had endured a day full of very slight contractions as the gel was doing its stuff and I was exhausted and disappointed and just wanted this to start happening already… yes I was being a sook, I just knew I still had a long way to go, was feeling side effects of not having my meds and I also was given no food all day either (I’m not sure why exactly but I guess they thought I shouldn’t in case they had to take me for C-section)

After 6pm I was taken back to the ward given a sandwich from the fridge and given the dreaded gel again and told to take some sleeping pills and they’d try again tomorrow.  Finally the morning of 22nd August 2008 arrived and again I was woken at 7 and told to shower and head back to the delivery suite again.  This time my cervix cooperated and my waters were broken and the drip started and right from that moment the contractions started, I was having 6 contractions over 10 minutes right from the start.

It was ok as in I was handling it all pretty well. I had my mum and my then husband there as my support but they just sat on the couch in the corner and left me to it pretty much.  I had to stay mostly on the bed though as they were pretty much continuously monitoring my BP and they had placed a clip on my baby’s head to monitor him.  I kept feeling like I needed to pee and kept going to the toilet which was so annoying as the drip and wires had to follow me everywhere and the midwife kept coming in every two minutes checking on me which made it harder for me to try and pee and I just couldn’t pee, whether it was psychological or not I didn’t know at that point (not having children at that time I was not used to an audience while peeing… safe to say I no longer have any issues peeing in front of people loll

After a couple of hours or needing to pee and not being able to, I began to get that awful burning sensation you get like when you have a bad urine infection, between that and 6 contractions over 10 minutes for hours on end I was beginning to get to the point of complete agony.  My BP started to skyrocket so the obstetrician came in and assessed me, he said the baby seemed to be blocking my urethra, which is why I couldn’t pee so they inserted a catheter (OUCH!! And it was burning so much) my BP was right up because of the pain and the OB said they wanted to give me an epidural as one of the side effects is lowering your BP.

I wanted a natural birth and was hoping to go drug free but I just wanted what was best for the baby and my BP being so high was dangerous for both of us.  They administered the epidural and I was finally out of pain, I was so exhausted from everything I just passed out and went to sleep.  I don’t know how long I was asleep for but I was awoken by 7 people shaking me and saying wake up, roll over, the baby doesn’t like the epidural and I rolled and saw my baby’s heart rate at 78bpm (very low for a baby)

I began to panic.

His heart rate shot right up to 198bpm so off to the theatre I was rushed for an emergency C-section.  My then husband got gowned up and came in feeling ‘oh so proud of himself to be looking like a doctor’ (dickhead! Loll) he said I look like I’m in an episode of Grey’s Anatomy. I quietly thought to myself, for fuck sake dickhead were having an emergency here and you’re grinning from ear to ear and talking about fucking TV shows.

Having a C-section is the weirdest feeling in the world! You can feel it all but you don’t have the pain.  I was still feeling extremely groggy from being asleep and later found out that I am extremely sensitive to pain killers so having the epidural was making me feel so drowsy and I kept dropping in and out of sleep.  I remember the feelings very well.

When they make the incision it feels like someone has tipped a large bucket of warm water all over your stomach and thighs, you feel them tugging and pulling at your stomach and as they peel your stomach back and tie it up with bandages up above your head… you can’t see this though as a drape is hung up just below your bust so you and your partner don’t have to see the gory bits.  Then they tell you are going to feel some pressure and breathlessness for a moment and they apply a large amount of pressure to your upper abdomen and it feels like they are squeezing your lungs. It is kind of like what the contractions do during labour but rather than gradually squeezing the kid down it squishes them out of the incision in that one to two minutes.

The next thing I knew they very quickly held up my precious baby and said congratulations on the arrival of your boy..

I said “wait I didn’t get to see him” and they quickly took him away before I got the chance to see him, he wasn’t breathing so they had to take him..

I was in a weird state I have never experienced before, I was feeling panicked and worried about my baby and at the same time couldn’t fight the sleep and kept drifting in and out of it, every time I opened my eyes I asked Is he breathing? Is he ok? but I didn’t hear an answer and it seemed to go on for around 10 minutes next thing my husband turned and looked at me very angrily and said


I felt relief and also upset that my husband had yelled at me like that and was not being supportive, but I was just glad our boy was ok. They said he had taken 2 minutes to breathe and had low Apgar scores and was having trouble regulating his temperature so he had been swept off to NICU.

It had seemed so much longer to me!  I went off to recovery which I have no memory of what so ever, as it turned out I was in there for 2.5 hours as they couldn’t wake me up (the sleepiness I was experiencing in the theatre and when I passed out asleep in the delivery suite…. All to do with my extreme sensitivity to pain relief.

I was then wheeled in to meet my little man in NICU, I arrived there to find out that basically everyone (my husband, mum and sister) had all held my baby and I had not even seen him properly yet!! This may be something that would annoy some women but in that moment I was just happy knowing he hadn’t been left alone and that he had people that loved him there with him whilst I couldn’t be there.

He was amazing, so handsome, and chubby little cheeks, our son Peter (after my late father) Frank (after my late brother who had passed away aged 17 when I was just 12 years old) was here and he was perfect. How did we make something so precious??


We attempted to attach him for feeding (I had planned to breast feed) but my man having arrived a bit early had jaundice and we couldn’t wake him up enough to feed.

They took me back to the ward and I started being pumped like a cow at the dairy shed to try and feed my little Peter Frank.  I didn’t have enough supply being my first and they needed to get his sugar levels up so I agreed to them giving him a formula feed.  The rest of my time in hospital was a bit blurry due to pain meds and was spent trying to get him to attach with no luck and pump pump pumping to keep the EBM up to him. I had grazed nipples and cried because I felt like a failure already that I couldn’t get this breastfeeding thing right.

I had a super lovely male midwife and he praised me and said that I was doing a super job and said most mums can’t express half the amounts I was expressing and whether it came from bottle or boob he was still getting his breast milk and I got the even if you have to go to formula main thing is your baby is fed and happy.

I had an anxiety attack as I was preparing to go home, it dawned on me that I was going home, to a rural area that was 60km to the nearest Doctor or Hospital and would take even an ambulance 20 minutes or more to get to our home if something happened to him again. That dear male midwife sat down and had a chat to me and calmed me down…

Home we went.

I became a super pro at EBM feeding and pumping and managed to keep it up to him for 6 months before I had to start top up feeding.

Becoming a mum was not all sunshine and flowers for me, I had so much anxiety over the delivery, him not breathing, not attaching and keeping up feeds. I was still on antidepressant/anxiety meds too. My husband did not help at all with the baby, to the point where when I was pumping milk in the lounge after feeding Pete in the middle of the night he would not roll over in bed and put the dummy back in his mouth for me, I would have to stop pumping dry off go put the dummy in and resettle bub and then go back to pumping.

Pete was not a good sleeper and I was running on 2.5 hours of broken sleep a night. Daytime I felt I had to hold it all together as new mums do and I didn’t nap in the day. I cleaned the house, did washing and entertained many guests coming to meet the baby. kept up with feeds, endless nappies settled Pete.. Back to the pump, have something to eat, quick drink. Wash, sterilize bottles and pump equipment. Feed, nappy change settle Pete, pump and the cycle continued day and night.

Looking back at it I don’t know how I survived or how my marriage to my husband lasted another 4 years.  It was a combination of the most amazing and wonderful days of my life tinged with the absolute pits as my marriage hung by a thread and my husband made a stupid mistake at work and was sacked on the spot forcing me back into the workforce when Pete was only 7 months old.

My husband treated and spoke to me like a piece of crap, I know looking back on it I should have ended our marriage far before the time it would naturally unravel but you tell yourself ridiculous things like, my son deserves a father and my son needs his father and I don’t want him growing up without his dad around etc. etc. So our marriage continued through ups and downs and many counselling sessions, moving houses and towns for him to get work and Peter being diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome …

I continued working and although our marriage was still shaky at the best of times we were a bit better as we were both earning our own wages again and he had his money to himself again.

That’s when I came to be expecting our second child..

It’s very hard for me to talk about this as I never want my daughter to know and we all know about the world of the Internet! But anyways here goes….

My daughter’s conception was totally unplanned and although we had always planned on having two children with our marriage in tatters and the way my husband had treated me when Peter arrived it was a million miles off as far as I was concerned (I apologise for the TMI… but come on ladies were talking about childbirth here.

My husband and I had been using the withdrawal method as our contraception as we were not getting along very well it was a VERY rare occasion that we would be intimate. I mean months would pass with nothing!!! Not a thing, we even kissed like two friends more than two people in a relationship

My daughter’s conception involved my husband taking advantage of my trust and he didn’t withdraw, “I said what are you doing?” he said “I want to have another baby with you”. Naturally I was feeling pissed off and said “don’t you think that’s something you should have talked to me about first?” I went straight to the loo and prayed that it would come out and nothing would happen and on I went with my usual routine until I started feeling a bit strange and couldn’t remember the last time I’d had my period… my heart sank and I thought oh no! I went and got the test I had left over from when I tested for Peter…

It came up positive….. I went and made a doctor appointment thinking (hoping) maybe the test is old being more than 2 years old but it was confirmed, I was pregnant.  

I was shitting myself, who would have thought after months of trying to conceive Peter, this one time we were intimate for the first time in about bloody 4 months or something I got pregnant.

“I thought you’d be happy” my husband said confused that I looked so concerned and anxious. I said “why would you think that? You had treated me like absolute shit when Peter was born they were the hardest years of my life and we haven’t exactly got a strong marriage here”.

We were still going to counselling and the counsellor discussed my concerns and what it meant when I said “treated me like shit”… The counsellor told my husband that he had been controlling and dominating me and that the way he had treated me was in fact emotional and economical abuse.

He kept all our money in his own account as I mentioned , I wasn’t even allowed to do the shopping… he did it, of course not buying most of the things we really needed etc. I was basically stranded at home in a rural area with no money and nothing to do.

We kept working hard and trying to make it work. I hate and feel guilty that I wasn’t happy about her conception as I love her so so much and would not change her for the world….

Now back to the baby business….

I didn’t know whether to try for VBAC or go with a planned C-section this time around. I decided to just see how things developed and keep an open mind until I had to make the decision I can’t really remember but I think the midwife clinic said I had to decide at around 28-30 weeks or so.

Everything seemed to be going well, I just continued on with my usual activities of caring for Peter and making sure he was getting his early intervention and we were doing all the activities etc. to try and help him. My blood pressure seemed to be behaving itself which was good however I started showing protein in my urine again by 30 weeks so I decided that due to my horrible experience of the emergency C-section and Peter not breathing and being in and out of it and not holding him for hours I decided I wanted a planned C-section.

I was booked to have her at 39 weeks given my history and the fact I had the protein present.  Everything was going steady, I was considered high risk but being that I lived locally in Bendigo this time I got to stay at home and just go in for regular monitoring.  At 37.5 week I began getting high blood pressure and the protein in my urine was getting higher so they decided to move my C-section forward to 38 weeks.  In two days time I was going to be going in for my C-section and meeting my little bubba (I didn’t know I was having a girl, it was a surprise)

I decided to only tell my mum and sister and my partner and his parents, the rest would get a surprise.  My experience this time was so much better.  I had done some research and requested a family centred C-section, there were some things the hospital could not accommodate as it breached their policy or procedure but as a whole they did their best to provide that kid of experience for me.

Early that morning I arrived at the hospital and went through the admission procedure, all the obs etc. were done and I was prepped for theatre.  Then they came and got me from my room and we went to the theatre ready for my spinal block, this time I had requested no heavy painkillers due to the effects last time.  I was taken into a much more relaxed theatre setting and everything was taking place as with Peters C-section the difference being one of the nurses took photos of the procedure for me as I had requested and was fine with gory stuff as in my early days I was a veterinary nurse and I had watched many a surgery. (during peters due to it being an emergency not one photo was taken at all )  they also dropped the drape and I saw them lift my little girl out of me and place her on my chest, it was so much more amazing and I totally loved it, I was awake and with it and I got to hold my precious girl straight away.



She was only 6lb 12oz and I remember my fingers and thumbs overlapping as I tried to grab her as they passed her to me and thinking oh my God she is going to slide straight through my hands she is so tiny.  It didn’t happen of course! They then took her and wrapped her up and gave her straight back, she was beautiful and so strong, she grasped and squeezed my finger the minute she was back on my chest My beautiful Layla Jayne was here.


I felt like I was dreaming, it was so surreal, I remember the minute they said you have a beautiful baby girl … how can I be so lucky as to get one of each, I now have a pigeon pair, I can’t be this lucky, I must be dreaming!.

It was so different being alert and with it this time, they wheeled us back up to our room after a very short visit to recovery this time. I only had a nurofen suppository for pain relief as they closed me up and by the time we got back to the ward Oh my goodness!!! Those after pains you get after your second child, dear lord they were hammering me!! Contracting stomach that had just been sliced open and no strong pain meds….

I soon asked the midwives if there was something I could take thankfully they had understood I was in pain yet not wanting my super sensitive body over reacting to pain killers and they wrote me up for some panadine forte and that was awesome.  From there everything went swimmingly for that day.

Pete came in to meet his new baby sister, it was a little straining for him but he was so well behaved and was trying so hard. You can see the strain in the photo ha-ha.


Crowded hospital rooms and the sounds from newborn babies crying isn’t the best for an Aspie Child.  I was starting to feel very overwhelmed and had a headache so everyone left and I had some rest between trying to breast feed my girl which was going a little better than Peter but I was having a lot of trouble and it was so painful, I felt frustrated, how can this thing that is supposed to happen naturally be so damn hard and so fucking painful, I must be a sook and a crap mother I thought!

I ended up expressing again until they could get a lactation consultant to come see me on the ward.  I was feeling so teary had a massive headache and just felt like I wasn’t coping at all and felt and believed that I couldn’t possibly love this baby the same as I loved Peter, I felt so devastated for her and extremely guilty.

As the days went on I was feeling more and more emotional and had such a heavy head and it was aching…. I was unable to take a shit due to the fact the bathroom was literally only half a metre from the end of my room mates bed and they had given me a new roommate every damn day so I didn’t get friendly with anyone and wasn’t comfortable to go.

For those first time mums reading this. Taking your first poo after birth is scary whether natural or C-section and after a C-section you can’t squeeze to make it happen cos your tummy hurts too much and feels like it will bust open if you squeeze. Being so uncomfortable made it impossible.  

On the third day my son came to visit he wasn’t coping with there being yet another stranger in the room with us (roommate changing problem 2) and he just wanted out, I was missing him like crazy and wanted to see him and the staff were using the visiting room as a meeting room so we were unable to go there and chill out with him as I had done on the previous day.

I was sitting on my bed finishing up a feed with Layla when I heard Peter having a meltdown out in the hall and my mum trying her best to calm him down with no success. I gave Layla to my husband and stormed out into the hall .. I picked up my screaming kicking and melting down 3 year old and I carried him to the lift and I left the hospital with him.   Yes!!! You read that right after major abdominal surgery I picked up a 16kg kid and I carried him all the way out of that damn hospital.

The staff apparently fled to my room asking what had happened and why etc. and my husband told them we just have to hope she comes back. I sat in the hospital grounds crying and cuddling my poor boy until he and I both calmed down, by them my mum and a friend who worked at the hospital had found us and asked me all about it. My friend went barging up to the ward and told them all what had happened and I returned to the ward feeling quiet ashamed and embarrassed.

It then struck me that I had not been given my anti-depressant and anxiety medication for the whole three days I had been in there (I had to sign them in when I was admitted as you know you cannot self-medicate in the hospital) they had forgotten to give me them (anyone reading this who knows Effexor knows they have the worst withdrawal effects ever!) I suddenly felt better about the whole meltdown thing, I mean that’s what happens when you don’t give crazy people their meds lol.

I was moved to a private room and given my meds and extra laxatives and by morning I was a new woman! I still had trouble feeding Layla the lactation consultant said I had vasospasm which is where the blood supply gets cut off to your nipple when the baby is sucking so no wonder it was so painful and I had blisters all over my nipples.  I combination EBM and breast fed her (that way my poor nipples got a break)

Things were a struggle at home as Peter had not clicked that having a sister meant she would be coming home to live with us and didn’t want a thing to do with her.  His Asperger’s, the whole changing routine and everything, exaggerated this.  He completely ignored her existence and despised her to the point he would not sit on the couch if her blanket was on the arm of it and told me to “put it back to bed” I said I beg your pardon this is your sister and she is hungry, he said “put her back to bed she is tired” and when I said no he would run off and hide in another room with my mum.

I remember crying and thinking I had ruined his life and what had I done, I felt so bad for him and at the same time felt so terrible for this poor baby girl. Luckily I attended a post-natal depression group that I was referred to on discharge (after the whole meltdown thing lol) It was wonderful and it was so comforting to be in the company of other mums who also felt that they loved their baby but they weren’t enjoying this whole process as much as everyone else seemed to be. Bonding seemed to be taking some time even though I totally loved her, I wasn’t alone in my feelings.  It was the best idea being a part  that PND group.

I totally recommend it to anyone, even if you don’t think you have it, know that it is ok and that you are not alone in your struggles.

After the photos at the hospital the only photos I got of Peter and Layla together were staged as in I took a photo with him then a photo with her and merged them for about 3 months anyway.  It really took about 6 months for him to come around and accept her and the fact she was here to stay.

Things slowly got better from the time she could crawl around, she was at the later end of normal crawler too so it was a long drawn out process and still to this day they have a love hate relationship but she is used to him and his quirks and just takes it under the chin. They have what I consider a normal sibling relationship nowadays.

Now obviously from some remarks I made during the writing of my birth stories you would be able to tell that my husband left, things were at an all-time low in our relationship, the last time we were intimate was Layla’s conception and I caught him wanking on the internet on the couch instead of coming to bed with his wife! He was super grumpy and it pretty much was a circle of he would sleep in in the morning, walk out yell at me, yell at peter, go to work, come home yell at me and then sit up ‘til early hours playing video games and back to the morning yelling.

His anger got out of control and he ended up kicking a multi-million dollar machine and got instantly dismissed from yet another job! Our baby girl was only about 7 months old and I was facing going back to work again, as well as managing the care of both my babies (Peter having Asperger’s also required much more assistance with daily needs than your average 4 year old so it was not easy at all!)

My husband was referred by our counsellor to a psychologist who then referred him to a family violence Victoria changing men’s behaviour group. He refused to attend and when my 4-year-old boy started yelling at me and speaking to me like his father that’s when I knew I couldn’t take it anymore.  I said to my husband how can I go crook at our son for speaking to me that way when he watches and listens to you speak to me that way every time you open your mouth? I said I can no longer live like this, either you need to attend the program and make an effort here or I can’t go on like this, I don’t want our son thinking this is the way he should speak to his wife and kids and I don’t want our little girl growing up thinking that this is how her husband should speak and treat her and their kids.

“I will go then” he said

It was that simple for him to walk out. Layla was only 8 months old at the time, Peter was 4. One month later he announced on Facebook that he was in a relationship with some woman from Sydney and he gradually started not coming to see the kids on weekends etc. Once we sold our house I moved closer to my family in Melbourne and I used to drive the kids to see him over an hour in the car, and until he started not being there when I would bring them (due to his anger issues he had agreed to supervised visits at his parents’ house where I would leave the kids and collect them 3-4 hours later until he completed the program he was referred to) after that he maybe made an effort to see them twice ….

Being with the new girlfriend (also a mum), he had to show her what a good Dad he was. Once he signed the divorce papers (I had him sign them after 4 months or so as he planned to move interstate with his girlfriend. That way I would only have to lodge them after the 12 month separation period) lucky I did as he called the kids once and spoke to them on the phone for five minutes and the kids and I have not seen or heard from him since, that was about 3 years ago now and he never did attend that program.

No one knows where he is, he doesn’t talk to anyone not even his parents who still see the kids every couple of months.  I’m disappointed for my kids, they deserved a better father than that but at the end of the day they are very well rounded kids and they seem happy and they certainly get more than enough love from me and my sister and her partner to fill the voids.

I wouldn’t change the fact that I married him. He is the reason I have these two beautiful children.  I do hope one day I meet a good man who can step up and be there for my kids where their father failed them, but for now they don’t seem to be missing much, though I do get the odd reminder from my now 4 year old sweet little girl that I need to keep looking for another Daddy..

No pressure!!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s