Abandoned Love

by Rosie Houghton

  A million times we’ve needed you. A million times we’ve cried

  If love alone could’ve saved you. You never would have died

  In life we loved you dearly. In death we love you still

  In our hearts you hold a place. No one else will ever fill

  It broke our hearts to lose you. But you didn’t go alone

  Part of us went with you. The day the Angels took you home

  Annonymous

  ROSIE 1989–96

  LONDON

  WHEN YOU ARE adopted you have this profound need for love and profound fear of rejection. It’s not that you lack love, it’s just that you don’t have that genetic love that is bestowed on everyone else around you. People love you for you, but you don’t know who “you” is? Often people say there is something special about you, but you don’t feel special inside. You feel that life let you down in some way, that two people that loved once didn’t love you. They brought you into the world, then cast you off to make you find your own way in life like a kitten or puppy. Rosie often looked at dogs, and thought poor things, you were once put up as puppies for sale, forever taken away from your mother. That was what happened to her. She was placed in a loving home, albeit a dysfunctional one, but she was never to know the true meaning of love with her real mother, even if she did set out to find her.

  Nothing was to become so apparent, when after seeing her “husband to be” for the entire period of university and beyond law school, she had finished her exams. She had put all her heart into her finals, as she realized this was her only ticket to freedom and a professional life, one that would give her the independence, she craved. They had just got back from a weeks holiday in Italy. They were sitting in a pub in Godalming in Surrey. She was excited about her future, their future together. She was due to start a job in London in September. The world was her oyster. Her adoptive mother was due to go on holiday to Canada for a month, to meet all her friends from the post war era. All she had to look after, all she was responsible for, was the cat in London.

  “I can’t wait to come up and stay with you in Worcester.” She said.

  “You’re not coming.”

  “What do you mean I’m not coming.”

  “It’s over.”

  “What do mean it’s over?!”

  “I can’t do this anymore.”

  Tears were streaming down her face. Everything she had worked so hard for, was now imploding. Her rock, the one person she had relied on during her emotional journey was letting her down. One of the things she had learnt about the insecurity of adoption, is never to let your guard down, no matter how much it hurts.

  “You do realize, that if you say it’s over, I don’t do friends. I mean this means, we will never see each other again.”

  Like the mother that had abandoned her she felt abandoned.

  There were hugs and kisses in the car park, an inevitability, that they would never see each other again. She was in London, he was in Worcester. Their paths would not be crossing. As they drove up the A3, in their separate cars, his car took the turning on the M25 to the Midlands, hers to London. When she got back to the flat in Little Venice on her own, she just locked herself away, back in the crazy existence of her adoptive mother’s flat without her adoptive mother. She had no one to cling on to now, no one to give her the comfort she craved. She didn’t know who she was or who she was to become.

  Over the next few days it was probably one of the most difficult and cathartic experiences. The ability to find out finally who she was. She poured over old letters and diaries, trying to make sense of herself. She had come to rely on someone else too emotionally, and they had let her down, just as her real mother had let her down. The only person she had now was her adoptive mother, but she wasn’t there to carry the pieces. But it wasn’t her that she needed, it was her that she was trying to get away from. She needed to find herself. No one else could do that for her now. Not even her real mother.

  At least she had the flat to herself, but it was such a depressing place. Everywhere she looked was a shrine to her father. The same battered armchairs and furniture never to be updated. Life was for living, not dying. She knew she needed to get rid of the shackles of death. Why be so depressed when there was so much to live for?

  One day she grabbed her car keys and decided to drive round the streets of South Kensington. She’d lost all touch with her mates since she’d been in this relationship, it was time to go and find them. She drove round and round behind the old streets off Kensington High Street until she finally found a group of her friends standing outside Abbey Mansions.

  “Oh my God! I am so glad I’ve found you guys. I have been almost suicidal. I haven’t seen anyone in days”

  “Come and join us for a drink at the The Sporting Page. All the usual crew are going to be there. We’ve missed you.”

  “Why don’t some of you jump in. I”11 give you a lift.”

  Over the following weeks, she managed to pick up the pieces and started going out and meeting people. She slowly regained confidence and realized how people all around her actually liked her. She miraculously bumped into some of her “Husband to be’s” friends in London. She knew the message would get back to him in Worcester.

  Eventually her “husband to be” called and asked.

  “Would you like to come on holiday to Scotland with me?”

  “Why would I want to do that, when last time I went on holiday with you, you sacked me?”

  He laughed.

  “I’d better come down to London and persuade you then.”

  They got married a few years later.

  Rosie fondly remembered when they found out they were pregnant with their first child. They were on their way to Edinburgh with her parents in law for her sister in law’s twenty first birthday. They planned to stop on the way in Lake Windermere, to stay in an expensive hotel which her father in law huffed and puffed about the price of. They chartered a yacht on Lake Windermere and sailed on the lake on a cold summer’s day. Then they walked the hills. She often looks at the photographs of that day and stares in wonderment that she was actually pregnant in those photos, although she didn’t know it then. They were to find out when they were in Edinburgh.

  They checked in to a smart town house hotel, close to the centre. As they were unpacking their suitcases, she said to her husband

  “I think I might be pregnant.”

  “How long have you suspected?”

  “I don’t know but I don’t feel sick or anything.”

  “Lets go for a walk and go to the chemist. We can catch up with my parents later.”

  They grabbed their coats and started to walk the streets of Edinburgh. The city was Georgian in stature, overshadowed by the castle on the hill. They popped in to the chemist on the way and picked up a pregnancy test. They then went in search of a local pub.

  “You sit down in the corner, I’ll get the drinks.”

  Her husband went to the bar and got a pint of bitter for himself and a glass of white wine for Rosie.

  “Are you going to do the test now?”

  “I can’t do the test in the pub toilet!” She exclaimed.

  They were both dying to know. They hadn’t been trying for a baby for very long, so the news that she might be pregnant was a bit of a shock. She’d never taken a pregnancy test before, even though she thought she might be pregnant at university but wasn’t. She took out the packet and read the instructions. Her husband’s parents were not getting on well at the time and were only showing solidarity for the sake of their daughter’s birthday. The short break in Lake Windermere had done little to appease the situation.

  When they got back to the hotel room, she ventured to the toilet and shut the door. The instructions were quite clear, if a blue line came up on the tester, she was pregnant. She took the test.

  “ Oh my God, I’m pregnant!” She exclaimed excitedly.

  “Are you sure? I bought another pregnancy test, just in case.”

/>   She took another test and another clear blue line appeared.

  “I’m definitely pregnant.”

  They hugged each other for some time, letting the reality of their wonderful creation set in. They were also, if they were honest a little bit daunted. What did pregnancy entail? None of her friends had been pregnant yet. She didn’t have a mother to explain what pregnancy and birth entailed, only motherhood.

  “We can’t tell anyone tonight. I don’t want to ruin your sister’s birthday. Anyway I want a drink and if I announce I’m pregnant then everyone will expect me to stop drinking and smoking and I am not quite ready to do that just yet.”

  They got together that evening, safely guarding their new found secret. They wanted to tell the whole world, but didn’t want to take the wind out of her sister in law’s sails. How different her elation was to that of her real mother’s devastation, twenty nine years before. How she still ached to find her. Yet her adoptive mother was still going strong.

  The following day they were driving back down the motorway, all four of them in silence. They were gearing up the courage to tell her parents in law the news.

  “We’ve got something to tell you. You are about to be grandparents.”

  “That’s great news,” they both chorused.

  “Let’s stop off at the next service station and have a celebratory lunch.”

  They sat quietly in that service station, mulling over the truck stop fare.

  “I’m not sure I’m ready to be a grandparent.”

  “I wonder if it is a boy or a girl?” her father in law pondered.

  Rosie and her husband knew that men always secretly wanted a boy. Perhaps that’s why her father didn’t want her. Maybe he would have wanted her more, if she had been a boy? On the journey back, all they could talk about was the names for it if it was a boy or a girl.

  For Rosie, pregnancy was like throwing a duck to water. She had no morning sickness and pretty much carried on as normal. She still wasn’t showing when she had her first scan.

  “Baby and mum are doing just fine,” the nurse said, patting her arm.

  “I hope you will attend some of the antenatal classes we offer?”

  In truth, she could not be bothered with these classes. Everybody got pregnant and gave birth. Surely there was nothing to it? She bought a book on pregnancy which showed and explained the various stages of pregnancy. As the months went by, She slowly began to feel the baby move and kicking inside her. One night she woke up in the middle of the night and saw a whole limb moving. She nudged her husband and they stared in awe at this little creature. Their baby was turning around like some alien.

  Towards the end of the pregnancy, she began to feel uncomfortable. She could see how her mother had managed to conceal her pregnancy, pretty much until the end, because she hadn’t eaten for two, she didn’t show until the last month or so.

  On the morning of the 9th January 1996, two weeks earlier than predicted, she awoke at 6 am to find her waters had broken. Whilst her husband was scrabbling around for the book, finding out what to do, she ran a bath. Her husband telephoned the midwife.

  “How long between her contractions?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Just stay and rest at home and ring us again, when the contractions begin.”

  As she was running the bath, she could feel the contractions coming every ten minutes or so. They were excruciatingly painful when they came, giving her little reprieve.

  “Forget the bath, I’m taking you to the hospital.”

  She had to step gingerly across the black ice to get to the car. She couldn’t get in at first as she was in yet another contraction. As they set off, she wound down the window and hastily lit another cigarette.

  “I don’t know if I can make it to the hospital.” she said, when they arrived in the hospital car park.

  “Just wait until the contraction passes and then we will leg it to the maternity unit.” Her husband replied.

  They were ushered straight in to the labour ward, which seemed surprisingly quiet at 7 o’ clock in the morning. There appeared to be only one midwife on the ward.

  “I can’t take the pain any more. Get me some pain killers now!” She cried out.

  “Just stay there. Someone will be with you shortly. Just breathe in gas and air.”

  She couldn’t stay still. The contractions were now coming quick and fast, like a ton of bricks on her spinal cord.

  “Just take away the pain!” She cried.

  Ten minutes later the midwife came back.

  “I’m afraid it is too late for an epidural. The baby is coming, just push!”

  For the next ten minutes, she screamed and cried and shouted as her little baby came in to the world. It felt like every muscle was being torn. Her husband was now on the gas and air.

  “Congratulations, you have a baby boy!”

  And with that she heard a little cry and whilst they cut the cord and cleaned him up she looked straight in to her husband’s eyes. For Rosie, it felt truly miraculous, that feeling of giving birth. From that moment their lives became insignificant. Death seemed less scary, because now, they truly had something to leave behind. The nurse gave her, her baby boy to hold in her arms, the tiniest, smallest being with his eyes closed. She checked to see that he had all his fingers and toes. At that very moment he looked all wrinkly, like an old man, but he was hers and he was beautiful.

  The nurse wheeled her down to the ward with her baby, in a little cot beside her with a plastic tab on his ankle. No name yet, that was for later. That day, she was exhausted, exhausted with the physical effort and the emotion. She couldn’t sleep for all the other babies crying. Her baby in contrast was beautifully silent, having just been born in to the world. That night, one of the nurses placed him next to her in bed and she just kept staring at him. How could her mother have given her away, she thought? It was nice to see him at last. Since they had already been together for nine months, she felt she already knew him.

  When they left the hospital the next day, they did so in a little panic. How did you do the car seat? What if he needed feeding? How did she bath him? They moved in to her parents in law for a couple of days as the house they were moving in to wasn’t ready yet. That day whilst their baby was sleeping they watched a movie.

  Not long afterwards, she went back to work with the help of a local nanny. One day, she was driving through the forest when she heard the George Michael song “Jesus to a child”. She burst in to tears uncontrollably and had to pull the car over. The enormity of giving birth, just overcame her. The fact that her real mother had given her up and here was her child, her little boy that she could never dream of giving up, like Jesus to a child.

  Over the following weeks, her adoptive mother came to see them. She was seventy five now and she was reluctant for her to hold her baby, for fear she might drop him. It was cruel, she realized and she knew she was being hesitant, but she wasn’t very steady on her own feet, let alone on her own feet and with a baby. Her husband would often comment.

  “How did she cope? I can’t believe social services didn’t intervene.”

  On one occasion, she did trip over and from then on she was hugely protective. She went on to give birth to two more healthy children.

  MARJORIE 2000s

  LONDON

  MARJORIE WALKED SLOWLY round her flat on the top floor of a mansion block in Maida Vale. The carpet was worn and frayed and needed replacing. Many of the cupboard doors looked tired in the kitchen. Her body was getting old now, and she found it difficult to get round without a walking stick. She walked over to the old Georgian display cabinet and picked up a framed picture of her daughter and her three grandchildren. They were growing up so fast now. She must remember to top up their bank accounts when she next went to the bank.

  She went back into her bedroom to check that her trunk was still locked. She kept forgetting things these days and was often confused. Rosie had suggested that Marjorie might want to m
ove in with them but she had politely declined. She didn’t want to be a burden on Rosie. Why was everyone making such a fuss? In any event her daughter and son in law both had busy careers and three children to bring up. She didn’t want to be a contributor to the so called “sandwich effect”.

  The telephone rang and Marjorie staggered to answer it.

  “Mum, it’s me.”

  “Hello darling.” She said, slightly out of breath.

  “How are you?”

  “I’m OK.”

  Marjorie could hear the exasperation in her daughter’s voice. She knew she wasn’t very quick at getting to the phone these days. Her hips were aching after two hip operations and her balance was not what it used to be. She had fallen over a few times, but had not thought to mention it. She didn’t want to worry Rosie.

  “I’ve got something important to tell you.”

  “What is it?”

  “You know that we are looking to move and that we have decided to sell the businesses?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well we’ve decided to emigrate to France.”

  Marjorie started chewing her lip, trying to take this all in. She had refused all invitations to go and live with Rosie, but moving to another country? How was she going to cope? She loved Paris when she was younger, but getting on a plane was still alien to her, if she were honest. They had been on a few holidays, but for her daughter to move so far away. Her mind was racing. She couldn’t get her head around the facts.

  “Listen, we still want you to come and live with us. Any property we buy, will have an apartment attached. We’re moving to the South, so the weather will be much better for you.”

  Marjorie couldn’t let on that being in her eighties, made such a decision monumental. A new country, a new language, a new everything. Her body was too tired for all of this. Yet she couldn’t let on to this, for Rosie’s sake. She didn’t want to go on and on, but was also scared of dying.

  “Have you told your husband’s parents?”

  “Well my husband hasn’t been getting on with his father recently, but his mother knows.”