Stacey: My Story So Far

by Stacey Solomon

  I went through hell for three months. People would come round and I’d think, Go away! They’d bring presents for the baby and I’d think, Why does he need another white babygro? Why does he need another packet of socks? I will never go to see someone who’s just had a baby without getting them something really nice, too, something that will make her think, Thank goodness someone has got me something for doing all that hard work.

  Breastfeeding didn’t get any easier as time went on. ‘You’re doing so well,’ everyone told me. ‘Keep going with it, keep going,’ said the midwife, my mum and Karen. ‘It’s best for the baby.’

  But I felt completely drained. My energy levels were as low as they could be and I found myself crying all the time. ‘I don’t want to do this any more,’ I told my mum. ‘I really don’t want to do it.’ It was depressing me too much and I was exhausted.

  ‘You stop whenever you want to,’ Mum said calmly.

  ‘I can’t do it,’ I said, the tears rolling down my face. ‘I know everybody wants me to, but I just can’t do it any more. I can’t keep waking up in the night. I haven’t slept properly in three months.’ I needed one solid night of sleep. ‘Just one …’ I said.

  Mum could see that I had reached my limit, I think. ‘You must do what you need to do,’ she said.

  I was so grateful to my mum for helping me so much. I just don’t know what I would have done without her. I was living in a blur and it was such a comfort to know that she had everything under control. She was so loving and giving and I was so needy. Thank you, Mum.

  Gradually I weaned Zach off the breast and onto the bottle. For the first few days of bottle feeding he was still up during the night, but now I had someone to help me out, and it was just the nicest feeling. I was so grateful. At three in the morning when Zach started crying, I could lie in bed and listen to my mum getting up and saying, ‘Hello!’

  I felt like crying. It was such a relief. She’s there, I’d think. I can go back to sleep.

  In one way, it didn’t make too much difference, because I’d always wake when he cried anyway – that’s a mother’s instinct – but it was lovely not having to physically drag my aching, tired body out of bed to warm up a bottle, then feed him and try and keep my eyes open without rolling onto him and suffocating the poor boy. All of a sudden I was free again. Zach could be independent of me and other people could look after him.

  It was a huge turning point for me. It wasn’t just that after a couple of nights of proper sleep I felt so much better. Psychologically, I felt the worst was over. Energy surged back into my body and I thought, Yes, I can get my life sorted now. I can do anything! Life went from being dull and grey to being full of hope and promise and colour. ‘That’s it, I’m going back to college,’ I decided. ‘I’m going to make a new start.’

  ‘Go away on holiday, just for one week,’ my mum urged. ‘Then Zach can get used to being without you and get accustomed to having a bottle. That way, everything will be settled for when you start college again.’

  A holiday? ‘Are you sure, Mum? Really?’

  ‘Go on,’ she said. It was the kindest, most generous thing she could have done for me.

  Me, Dana, Lauren and Laura went straight to First Choice and booked the cheapest 18–30s holiday we could find. Two days later, I bound up my breasts to stop them leaking and we flew off to Kos in Greece.

  What a difference sunshine makes, especially when you’re having fun with your best mates! We had an amazing time. We made loads of friends, got really tanned, got drunk and went clubbing, none of which I had done in about a year. It was so brilliant: there were school uniform parties, all-night discos and pub crawls. It made me realize how incredibly low I’d been and how much I’d missed going out and having a good time.

  We met a wicked bunch of people. They were staying in the same hotel and we ended up doing everything with them: swimming, dinner, going on the punch machine, bursting into their room and spraying shaving foam on their faces. We had a really good laugh and shared the same naughty, silly sense of humour. I got on unbelievably well with a guy called Paul. I called him ‘Hoof’ because he had the hairiest legs and looked like something out of Narnia, half man, half beast! I hardly had time to speak to his best friend, Aaron, because he made me laugh so much.

  I didn’t think I’d miss Zach while I was away, but I did. I kept thinking about him and I took his picture with me everywhere. Most days, I rang my mum and asked her to put the phone by his ear. ‘Hello, munchkin, how are you?’ I’d say. ‘Miss you!’

  ‘Na, na, na,’ he’d gurgle. They were really short phone calls!

  Then I’d rush off to find my friends again and laugh until I cried. It was the best feeling. At last my ordeal was over. I was back on track.

  Chapter 8

  Before you appear on a show like The X Factor or I’m a Celebrity you spend an afternoon with a psychiatrist, going through your whole life story from beginning to end, without leaving anything out. You have to be completely honest about everything or you can’t go on the show. It’s quite an interesting thing to do, actually, as it puts your life into perspective! And some of the questions they ask really make you think.

  ‘It’s intriguing how you went from being so angry as a teenager to being the way you are now,’ the psychiatrist said when I went for my interview for I’m a Celebrity in September 2010. ‘How did that happen?’ she asked.

  I honestly couldn’t tell her at first. ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I don’t even know when I came to be this happy.’

  ‘Do you think, perhaps, your life began to turn around when your parents took you out of one school and put you in another, more challenging school?’

  I thought about it. My life definitely changed when I started at King Solomon, partly because the teachers were so encouraging. While I was there, I went from being rebellious and moody to being happier and more balanced, although maybe that was also partly to do with growing up. So, could I trace my positive outlook back to that time? Well, almost. But I couldn’t forget that when I got pregnant at seventeen, I lost all my sparkle and motivation. I sank so low that all I could see was the negative side of life. What a joke! I thought. What a life. That’s it: I’m going to be a mum and then I’m going to die. There wasn’t a glimmer of positivity in me back then.

  No, what changed everything was Zach. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, the reason I’m so happy and positive now is Zach. Because instead of my life ending when I had him, as I thought it would, he was the beginning of all things good and wonderful. Zach brought so much happiness and sunshine to everyone around him. He lit up all of our lives with his gorgeousness and sweet personality. It took me a little while to realize what an amazing gift he was, because I was exhausted and traumatized after he was born, but when it dawned on me just how lucky I was to have him, my attitude totally transformed.

  The holiday in Kos helped me a lot. When I came back, feeling refreshed and in touch with myself again, I was thrilled to see my baby. As I lifted him into my arms and held him close for the first time in a week, I was overwhelmed by how much love I felt for him. ‘Zach, my mooch, my munchkin!’ I cried out. ‘I’m home!’ As he nestled in my arms, gurgling and wriggling, he looked up at me and smiled. It was the most angelic little chubby-faced smile I’d ever seen and it completely melted my heart. How could I ever have thought I didn’t want you in my life? I wondered as I smothered him with kisses. It gave me so much joy just to be with him again.

  From that moment, my priorities changed. Realizing how lucky I was to have my beautiful, healthy son, I felt so incredibly blessed. I didn’t ever want to seem ungrateful or take anything for granted again, because I knew that, in Zach, I had the best thing in the world. Just as long as I don’t die and nothing bad happens to him, I don’t care what happens in my life, I thought. It was a liberating feeling. My son was the most important part of my life; nothing else mattered even half as much.

  I was determined to be the best mother in the wor
ld. I was going to go back to college, get my qualifications and make something of myself, so that I could give him all the best things and great choices and a fantastic future. I pledged that I would never let him down.

  Things were so much easier now that the burden of looking after him could be shared out and I didn’t have to breastfeed him any more. My family were unbelievably supportive; I was so fortunate in that way. My mum, especially, couldn’t get enough of Zach. She just adored him from the start.

  It was great to see her happy again, happier than I’d ever seen her before, in fact. I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say that Zach turned her life around, too, and gave it meaning once more. She’d been stuck in a rut for years and he gave her a reason to live again. To be honest, it was a bit like he belonged to both of us. He wasn’t just mine any more, he was mine and hers, because we could both feed him and look after him.

  Now that I could leave him with other people, I couldn’t wait to start college again in September. As soon as I was in full-time education, some of his childcare costs would be paid for by the government, and later on I got a part-time job in the bar of a nearby country club to help support us and pay for extra childcare. Zach was six months old when I started dropping him off at the college creche on my way into lessons, picking him up again at the end of the day. I didn’t go and see him in the lunch hour, even though I always wanted to, because it used to unsettle him and he would cry until I came and picked him up again. As long as I didn’t disturb him, he had a lovely time there.

  After college, I’d take him straight home to my mum and then, three or four nights a week, I’d go to work. I worked as much as I could as I’ve always enjoyed working. What I didn’t like was having so little time off to spend with Zach. I cherished the time I had with him. I was always telling him, ‘I miss you, I miss you, I really want to kiss you.’ Now he says it back to me: ‘Miss me? Really want to kiss me?’ But of course he was only a baby then, so he just gurgled.

  I enjoyed my job, because it was really nice and social. I’ve always been a people person and at work I got to talk to everyone – mixing drinks was fun, too. Everyone was lively and happy because they were drinking, so the atmosphere was always good. And the wages meant that I was financially independent, which gave me a good feeling. The latest we’d ever finish was half three in the morning, because the parties on Fridays and Saturdays would finish at one or two o’clock and then we’d have to clear up.

  Occasionally, I did shifts at a wedding venue, where I used to clean the toilets after everyone had gone home. I often found myself wiping away traces of cocaine from the cistern lids, which disgusted me, because the idea of someone putting something up their nose is hideous. It’s the most unattractive thing. You should have seen the bride at one of the weddings I worked at. She had white powder all over her nose. I don’t feel strongly about many things, but that just made me sick. She was taking charlie at her wedding!

  I wasn’t aware of anyone using hard drugs at either of the schools I went to. I never saw anything other than weed when I was younger. Weed was a laughing drug. Then everyone grew out of it and it wasn’t cool to do it any more. It was like, ‘Get a life!’ It was a kiddies’ drug. None of my old schoolfriends do it now. I think it would be sad if they did, because it reminds me of being thirteen years old over the park. It’s not cool any more.

  No one at King Solomon smoked weed, to my knowledge. But when they left school after the sixth form, some of them ended up trying different things. I didn’t see charlie or pills until I went clubbing, when I thought, Oh God, people actually do this? It scared me a bit. I’ve never tried it in my life. I felt very uncomfortable when people were taking coke or pills anywhere near me.

  I remember someone showing me a YouTube clip of Amy Winehouse taking coke and I just didn’t want to look. ‘Get it off!’ I said. Everything about it is hideous: the way people are; how they get right in your face; the way they talk to you; how they sweat; the way their jaws grind. There’s nothing worse. Honestly, I’m so appalled by it. Then they get angry, because coke’s a really angry drug. It’s a serious drug and I hate it. Weed is serious but coke changes your whole personality. You get addicted to it and you can’t get away from it.

  Cocaine’s such a rich person’s drug. You never saw it at Time & Envy, the club in Romford I went to when I was sixteen and seventeen, because people couldn’t afford it. But at the more expensive clubs, you wouldn’t see anything else. Everyone was covered in white. When you don’t have money, I suppose you go for pills, but pills are more of a rave thing, whereas clubbing finishes at three and you just walk home drunk. Or that’s how it was for me and my friends. Everybody smoked and drank loads, but that was it.

  My worst nightmare is to be out of control. I’ve never passed out in my life. I’ve never been completely off my face, like out of control. You’ll never see me puke up after drinking too much. Although I might throw up the next day when it’s coming out of my system. You know when I’ve had a drink because it’s the only time I swear. It never even crosses my mind to swear unless I’m having a drink with my friends and I know I’m allowed to, because Zach isn’t around.

  All right, I’ve maybe kissed someone when I’ve been drunk and afterwards thought, Gross! Why did I kiss him? I remember I kissed this one boy who I thought was really good looking at the time. I got his number and arranged to meet him the next day. What a shock I had when he came to the door! He wasn’t anything like I remembered, or if he was, he wasn’t good looking any more. My sister was standing at the window laughing at me as I left the house. I turned round and gave her a look as if to say, ‘I hate you. I really hate you!’ It was so embarrassing. I had to spend the whole day with him.

  When I look back at my life before Zach, it seems so different. I was just a child then. Afterwards I had adult responsibilities, and going out with boys was the last thing on my mind. But even though I was working hard and studying, I was really enjoying life again, because Zach made everything worthwhile. I looked forward to waking up every day and having my morning cuddle with him. It made me laugh to put him in the bath and watch him splash around with a happy smile on his face. Best of all was bedtime, when I sang him soft lullabies to send him off to sleep. I loved him more and more each day, more than I could ever have believed I could love anyone.

  And now I had a whole new group of friends from my holiday in Kos. I added them all as friends on Facebook and we had a right laugh online. After a little while, Paul’s best friend Aaron started messaging me. ‘Where do you lot live, then?’ I asked. I knew they were from Essex, but we hadn’t got further than that.

  ‘Right by Lakeside,’ he replied, referring to the massive shopping centre in Grays, Essex.

  Well, you can imagine. I was like, ‘Lakeside! Lakeside!’ Because it’s my favourite place. ‘I love Lakeside,’ I admitted.

  ‘You should come,’ he suggested.

  I wanted to, but although Lakeside was only a few minutes by car down the A13 from my house, I didn’t drive and you couldn’t get there by bus. ‘Ah, I haven’t got a car,’ I said regretfully. Hint, hint.

  ‘I’ll pick you up and take you, then,’ he offered.

  ‘OK.’

  After that, Aaron often used to text me on a Wednesday to ask, ‘What are you doing? Do you want to come to Lakeside?’

  ‘Yes,’ I’d always reply.

  He’d come and pick me up in his rickety Berlingo van. It was the oldest, ugliest thing, but I loved it. We weren’t seeing each other or anything – it was just a friendship – but we started to get close. I never spoke to him about Zach, though. I think he must have known I had a baby son, because I’m sure everyone on holiday had noticed that I had a photo of Zach with me, but I never mentioned him and Zach never came shopping with us. It was just me and Aaron. Once a week, I could forget that I was a mother and have some fun without any responsibility.

  I really liked Aaron and we became good friends. He was only a year olde
r than me and we enjoyed being silly together, staying up until four in the morning watching boxing, or going clubbing together, just me and him. Once or twice we found ourselves kissing in front of the telly, or when he dropped me home, but it was just a bit of fun. I didn’t think anything of it, or if I did I didn’t say anything. He wasn’t the type to bring it up either. He’d never say, ‘I kissed you yesterday,’ especially as he knew I wasn’t interested in having a boyfriend. Anyway, it would have been embarrassing.

  Quite a few times I told him, ‘I don’t want to be with anyone.’

  ‘OK, whatever you want,’ he said.

  But I must have liked him more than I admitted to myself, because I really didn’t need to go to Lakeside every Wednesday. We obviously liked each other, but something wasn’t right. After everything that had gone on in my life over the previous year, getting involved with someone new was the last thing I wanted.

  It wasn’t just being with Aaron that I enjoyed, I loved being around his friends. They were my kind of people. They reminded me of my old school mates from Abbs Cross. Everyone was in a big group and had known each other for ever; meeting up was all about having a laugh and messing around, even though we weren’t thirteen any more. This is what I used to be a part of, I thought. This is what I lost when I left Abbs Cross.

  It made me want to get back in contact with my old friends, so it was brilliant when I bumped into Jade from Abbs Cross while I was shopping in Romford one day. ‘Oh my God, how are you?’ we screeched at each other. Soon afterwards, she arranged to get everyone together at a pub in Elm Park. It was so funny as none of them had changed. The pretty one was still the pretty one; the smoker still had the cigarettes; it was all exactly the same. They’re still friends now and they still all go out together.