Still Living The High life…NOT!
So my social worker got me a crappy bedsit in Crewe and what a dive it was. The landlord was a big sweaty bloke that had a permanent leer on his face.
My glorious Crewe pad consisted of a bed and a wardrobe and as the door opened I knew I had arrived lol 🙂 The other residents were a mixture of the insane and the truly psychotic I was glad I had a key to my room the first thing I did was open the rickety window, think “Rising Damp” x 10 it was bad but I had to make the most of it. I bought a kettle and a baby belling as I was not about to use the kitchen as I feared it harboured bacteria unknown to man and I was pregnant. I used to go my aunt’s for a bath as the bathroom was right next to the landlords room and I didn’t trust him plus it was disgusting how did people live like this?? I was enjoying shopping for baby clothes and toy’s I had bags of gorgeous tiny clothes that I would take and hold to me, I loved feeling my mini me kick inside see and marvelled at how hard it was 🙂
Then joy of joys my adopted mother came over from Kuwait on a mission to talk me into an abortion with the social worker, they got short shrift so my adopted mother said ok I am coming back over here to live soon you can come and stay with me until you have the baby then you can have it adopted…. just like that? So id more or less be going out of the frying pan into the fire. I made the most of the time before she bought a place and moved back from Kuwait this was not going to be easy by no stretch of the imagination, and I was right. I never asked her to comeback she took it upon herself later I found out she wanted to come back anyway, as usual I was just a useful excuse.
So she got a house and we moved in, it was ok at first but the clashes started the plan now was I was going to have my baby adopted apparently. The neighbours of the house she had moved into were mad I think they were inter bred the daughter who was about 35 was in and out of the local psychiatric hospital but I liked her she used to come round for chats mainly with herself but she came round and drank tea and she was a welcome break from my adopted mother who was very tedious and playing the martyr. As my stomach grew so did the panic of having a baby on my own because even then there was a stigma toward unmarried women in the early eighties well in the middle class life my mother lived anyway. She said I had to make up a story if anyone asked to where the father was lol I was not going to do any such thing, she may of been bothered but I wasn’t. I prayed the baby would come early so I could go get a place of my own and finally one Saturday evening I felt the first pangs of labour ouchie’s so we got in the car for the hour drive to the hospital, where she sat eating Mars bars while I screamed the place down I had never felt pain like it and never have since hence I have just one child. At 18.40 the next day Sunday I gave birth to a perfectly healthy baby girl I was a bit concerned about the shape of her head but was reassured that was caused by giving birth and it would go back to normal in time. I was sat holding her and the social worker and another woman came in asked me to sign something and for the next hour or so tried prising my baby out of my arms, I was distraught my adopted mother was whispering it was for the best I nearly belted her. Eventually they got my baby and I was left crying into a teddy she had, had. I was discharged and went back with my mother. I couldn’t eat or stop crying for five days solid until it was decided I could have my baby back, I went with the social worker to pick her up from the foster parents she had been sent to and relief swept through me as I picked her up. I am deliberately leaving her name out of this as I don’t think it would be fair, but all the time my adopted mother kept saying your on your own now. I went into a mother a baby home to await a council house and my adopted mother never visited and yes I was struggling, but all I could here was her saying “Your on your own now” All the other women were older than me and were there with their children escaping abuse everyone had a story and everyone mucked in together, but I was finding it hard it felt like the adopted mother was determined to make it as hard as possible for me I felt I had nobody. Eventually a council house came up and off we went.
They were right I could not cope….
Still Living The High life…NOT!