The Mother Of His Child

 I’m sure I’ve mentioned before that I have a 15 year old step-son, I’ll call him J. Simon is 32. Math experts will have managed to figure out that Simon was very young when he became a dad, 16 in fact! I only have Simon’s story (and MTV’s Teen Mom) to go by but I can imagine some of the difficulties Simon and J’s mum L faced having a baby at such a young age. I know their relationship was very challenging and although they tried to stay together for the sake of the baby, there was a lot of resentment and bad behaviour on both sides. They were on and off until J was around five when then finally split up for good. 

When I first started going out with Simon, I used to get pretty jealous that he’d had not just a significant long term relationship with someone, but more that they had had such an intense connection as having a baby together. At this point, I already knew about my PCOS and that I would need fertility treatment to have a chance of conceiving and I think that made it worse. I didn’t know if I could have a child with the person I loved and here was this other woman who had done that, who was the mother of his child. Despite the fact that I knew it was a stressful, unplanned pregnancy and their relationship was often conflictual, I would imagine the moments of happiness they shared together, looking at the child they created and delighting in him and in each other as parents. 

As I got more secure in my relationship with Simon, those feelings of jealousy towards L pretty much disappeared. My desire to have children with Simon deepened, for all the purest of reasons, with only the tiniest part of that being about feeling that there was no closeness that he had shared with someone else that we hadn’t surpassed. When we became pregnant with Isobel, a lot of memories started to come back for Simon about expecting J. Things he hasn’t really allowed himself to think about over the years but couldn’t help reflecting on now he was expecting his second child. I started to understand a little better just how traumatic it was for Simon and L to discover she was pregnant, to have to tell their parents, to have to deal with the judgements of those around them, to have to leave school and get jobs, to try and continue with part time education, to look after a baby at such a young age, to feel stuck in a relationship neither had really chosen. I will admit that I felt happy that Simon’s experience with me was so different. He chose me, he wanted to have a child with me, we actively tried to have a baby, we were overjoyed to be expecting, others were delighted for us not disappointed in us. Any last remnants of my insecurity in relation to L as the mother of Simon’s child seemed to be gone. 

But then Isobel died. 

I had failed to do what Simon’s 15 year old girlfriend had been able to do so easily – deliver him a healthy baby. The multivitamins and my careful eating, the yoga, the antenatal classes, all my research and knowledge – L didn’t have access to any of that but somehow that didn’t matter to the outcome. As devestated as I was for myself, my heart was torn apart for Simon. This baby was his second chance to be the kind of dad that he wanted to be, mature, stable and always present. I felt like I had allowed Isobel to die and let him down so badly. Yes there had been hard times with L, but she gave Simon a baby that came home from the hospital, who opened his eyes and smiled, that learned to say ‘daddy’, watched football with him and played x-box. I gave him a lifeless little body, a funeral, a grave, a lifetime of heartache. 

Of course I have talked to Simon about all of this and he has reassured me that he doesn’t blame me in any way for Isobel’s death. I know that’s true anyway because of how lovely he continues to be to me (most of the time!). I think the fear that he would blame me comes only from my own guilt. Rational me doesn’t really blame myself either, knowing how unhelpful it would be to get caught up with that narrative. However that doesn’t stop the thoughts from coming even if a lot of the time I can let them come and go without being too hooked on them. 

A few weeks after Isobel was born, I remember asking Simon if he considers me to be the mother of his child. He assured me that he does. It’s hard though. I’m not *the* mother of his child, I’m the mother of one of his children – the one that’s not here, the one whose memory elicits heartache rather than joy. 

I’ve noticed my jealousy about L returning. I find myself asking questions that I haven’t asked for years; “Did you ever think about proposing to her?”, “Did you want to have more children with her?”, “If you had met when you were older do you think you’d still be together?” and so on… Basically I think I’m saying “Tell me you love me more than you loved her – even though Isobel died”. I’ve also had lots of nightmares of Simon having an affair, leaving me, going on to have more children with someone else. (For those who are wondering, I have literally no reason to feel insecure either about my relationship with Simon in general, or about his relationship with L. Even if she were single, I can’t imagine any scenario in which she and Simon would reunite. As it is, she is married with another child.) 

Of all the things I’m desperately hoping for and looking forward to with this new baby, seeing Simon with our baby is one of the most significant. I remember how he looked at Isobel, how much he loved her and was so proud of her, even in those hardest of circumstances. He fought me to get to hold her longest, to stroke her perfect little face and hold her hand. He never held back on his emotions and cried openly with no shame. He spoke beautifully at her funeral. He continues to talk about her and to campaign for stillbirth awareness and prevention. He was, and is, the best dad Isobel could ever have had. 

I know he will be an amazing dad to this little one, I just hope he gets to be a dad to a baby, a toddler, a child, a teenager, an adult and who knows, maybe even gets to be a grandad! 

I hope too that my insecurity will retreat again once this baby comes. For now, it’s just one part of the whole whirlwind of emotions that follow losing a baby and pregnancy after loss. I’ve learned that the only way to cope with the whirlwind is to accept each and every emotion non-judgementally as just another part of the experience.  

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I actually wrote this post a couple of weeks ago and had kept it as a draft. Reading it over I realise that I’ve felt so much better about this issue since I wrote about it but I thought I may as well post it. I’m so glad that I have been able to use writing as a way to get perspective on the crazy rollercoaster that has been my life in the past 10 months! And thank you to anyone who reads my ramblings xx 

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6 thoughts on “The Mother Of His Child

  1. I didn’t know Simon had another child. I can only imagine the complex feelings this must bring along with everything else. Though I’m not in your situation, I can envision I’d feel the exact same way . I’m glad you feel a greater since of peace currently compared to a few weeks ago. xoxo

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  2. Thank you for writing this. It’s so raw and honest. I felt many of those emotions with my ex, not because he had another child but because he had a previous, first, long term relationship. I can really relate to that fear and desire to be told I’m loved the best and most. I feel I’ve only started to heal in my current relationship because my partner is so patient and reassuring. I can’t imagine how difficult it must have been when Isobel died. I’m glad you are feeling better than you were when you wrote this, and thank you for putting it into words. X

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    1. Thank you Nara. I’m really glad that you are feeling more secure with your lovely partner, I think insecurity in relationships becomes such a self-fulfilling prophecy doesn’t it? Old (judgey) me used to think people would only been insecure if they had good reason to be, now I can see that sometimes it happens even when there is no need for it within the relationship. Things used to seem so simple to me!! Thanks for reading and commenting xx

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  3. Your honesty is so beyond healing and helpful to me, the horrible negative thoughts and feelings I have had since Max died are overwhelming and overshadow just how much I love him. Your writing helps me to acknowledge, accept and move on with those thoughts. Thank you 🙂 xxx

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    1. Aw thank you so much. I just vent all my feelings for myself but it’s so lovely to hear that it can be helpful for other people too! We have all been there with the horrible thoughts and feelings and it’s so important to know that they are normal and are no reflection on us as people for having them! So sorry for your loss of little Max 🎈 xx

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