I found out I was pregnant at exactly 5 weeks, I was shocked but excited. I loved my boyfriend dearly, we went to my first scan 6 days later, but within that time my boyfriend decided we should terminate. I had recently just recovered from a fair few mental health issues so I wasn’t overly stable especially with all the hormone changes, I trusted him and he promised he wouldn’t leave me. It was his decision for me to abort but I loved him, well I thought I did. He emotionally and mentally controlled me.

At my first scan they didn’t show me my baby. They didn’t even ask me if I wanted to see my own child, they booked my date for my operation. I had to wait 2 weeks until surgery. Those 2 weeks were the best and worst of my life. I got really poorly due to the pregnancy and my boyfriend couldn’t cope with how unwell and moody I was, but they were still the best weeks of my life because I got to carry my child for longer. I spoke to my baby every night, I apologized countless times. My mum didn’t really have much to say about it all, she just said it was my decision, but it wasn’t my decision. It was his!!

On the day of my operation, nobody asked me how I was. If it was definitely what I wanted, they didn’t ask me if I wanted to see my baby before my operation. They just scanned me again to check all was OK and ready for the operation. I came round after my operation and sat screaming and crying, the nurses didn’t check on me, they didn’t let my mum or my boyfriend come see me. I was alone, grieving the loss of my baby all alone in a hospital bed.

The day after my operation my boyfriend left me, he told me he was going to leave me a month ago but then I found out I was pregnant. He told me he only stayed with me to make sure I went through with the operation, to make sure he wasn’t going to be a Dad. He made me do the worst thing possible just to save his own back. I hate him. It’s been nearly 6 months since my operation and I’m still grieving the loss of my first child, everybody keeps telling me to move on, get over it or just forget about it but I can’t. It’s not that easy. I know I went through with the operation but it wasn’t my choice. I feel like I don’t deserve to grieve my baby because it’s my fault they’re gone, but I can’t help it and nobody understands.

Nobody understands the heart ache of losing your first child. My baby’s dad doesn’t care. It doesn’t effect him in any way whatsoever, but I still count the weeks down to my due date, still figure out when my scans would be, wonder whether I’d be having a beautiful princess or a charming prince, whether they’d look like me, whether they’d be shy or outgoing. Whether they would have made me quit smoking by finding one of my lighters, the shape of their nose, the sound of their laugh. I write and write and write about my baby but it doesn’t help. I will never have my baby in my arms and I’m honestly beyond broken. No amount of tears, songs I write or talking about it will ever, ever, EVER make me feel better.

I killed my first child. There’s no forgiving or forgetting this. I hate myself for it, and I can never ever forgive myself, or the stupid prick of a dad for making me do this.