Not happy, not sad.



I went to the GP (doctor).  This was my mummy’s private doctor that she used to go to, and I remember the address from when I use to attend with her. I walked all the way, this wasn’t because D wouldn’t give me money, but because I had learnt from mummy never to ask for anything.

The doctor,  he told me to hop on the couch while he pressed my tummy.  “You are about two months pregnant” he said.

“What do you want to do, with two children at your age, that will be hard”. He said.

I didn’t understand, remember naive me.  I knew though that what he was suggesting would mean I could not keep D after all. I had never heard of abortion, but then how would I, I was teaching myself throughout life.  I was still scared of authority so I asked  the doctor.

“Could I keep it  please” I asked.

“Thats up to you” the doctor said

A short balding old white man, with a kind face.  He didn’t remember me, so no fear of mummy finding me.  I was surprised that I was given permission to keep the baby. That was how it felt, as by now I was so abused.  I didn’t know what I could do or say before getting into trouble. He then wrote something in a letter and told me to take it to the hospital.

I was so happy, it meant I get to keep D. When  I came home and curiously opened the letter. I did not see a letter to take to the hospital. I read this… See original letter below.


Original letter 1981

The above patient appears to be two months pregnant she has requested a termination. Which I am prepared to support. I would be pleased to hear your opinion. Many thanks yours sincerely. A Caplan. 

I was horrified. The doctor obviously misunderstood.  After all, I guess I was speaking quietly.  I showed D the letter, and he told me that was wrong for the doctor to do that, but he would support me,  he felt that I wanted a termination.  Far from it, and little did he know.

I  decided to keep the letter in any case, not sure why until today.  I was content, I cannot say I was happy that I was pregnant, but I knew I would be someone else’s property, if my children’s father ever found me.    D, was happy he  said he wanted a little girl, and we started planning. He told his sisters and friends.  It felt good to belong.

Regret  was my new word. I started to wish  my girls were his children.  His mum was not at all impressed when she found out but I didn’t like her so I didn’t care.  I didn’t care as D continued to treat me  and  my girls well. For the first time I was eating things I never knew existed.  I remember having orange juice from the box for the first time. it was amazing;  food in the home  was never an issue.

For the next  month I was content,  not happy, not sad but content. My babies were growing  and he treated them well. The one thing I hated most was D had an extreme sex-drive.  I also recall I always felt like vomiting whilst having sex, not just with him though..   But that was a small price to pay as I wasn’t getting the beatings I also was adding words to my vocabulary very quickly.  pretending… Gradually my physical scars healed. I also claimed benefits and I finally  had my own money. I was pregnant for someone who could protect me and  I had also learnt a new word  independence.

However, and sadly the unexpected happened…..  😦


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2 Responses to Not happy, not sad.

  1. Beverley says:

    I am trying, thank you David. My comments only work occasionally, so if I have not replied I’m not being rude ok. god bless


  2. I hope you are doing ok.


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