When my youngest son was born in April 1990, I again moved into a time of peace. He was a heavenly baby who slept for most of the day and night and never gave us any trouble. And even when he was awake, he was one of the happiest babies I have ever seen.
My disappointment at not having a daughter was totally overwhelmed by my love for this cuddly bundle. Even when I started to haemorrhage and was told that I would have to undergo a total hysterectomy, I was still wrapped up in my boys.
The doubts about the value of my life did not resurface until quite a few months later. But when they hit me, they hit with a vengeance. I felt as though I had been running to get away from my history and doubted whether I had the energy to continue. A part of me knew I needed to confront the issue that was at the root of all this, but I still could not see my way through it.
So instead of trying to run, I tried to hide. The Bella I had developed as a teenager resurfaced – confident and secure. And all those that knew me or came into contact with me were sucked in. I had nearly everyone fooled – only Ryan was beginning to notice the cracks in my persona. And this is probably when our marriage started to come apart. I was not the person he thought he had married.
To add to it all, I finally realised that I was no longer able to have children – what did that make me? Was I even a proper woman anymore? I was already sullied and now I could not perform the fundamental function that separates men from women.
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