Diary of a Desperate Wife and Mother - aged 35...and a half

The Monday to End All Mondays - Part II

I go to see my parents on the way home. I don't know why, I just feel like I need to see them.

They are worried at the sight of me at this time and with no reason for my visit, except there is a reason...I now know that Steven doesn't need to know my secrets, I don't need his understanding or forgiveness, I need theirs. With a cup of tea rattling in my hands I tell them I have seen Steven which causes my Mum to almost choke on her own tea but it's my Dad that seems most put out, he's acting strangely and it's my Mum that tells him to stop muttering and to sit down and listen to me. I reach into my bag and retrieve my diary, the one I had been preparing to show to Steven and as I hand it over to them I am crying, sobbing, begging for their forgiveness.

Victoria's Diary aged 17 (almost 18)

My life will never be the same again and I really mean it this time. And not just because Steven and I have split up. He came to visit about a couple of weeks ago and it was good, but then before he went back he told me he couldn't carry on, that a long term relationship wouldn't work anymore. I offered to leave home, to move to be with him but he said that wasn't possible, I don't have any money or a job so wouldn't be able to leave home. I asked him if he'd met someone else and he said no, but I'm not sure I believed him. I didn't think anything could hurt any more than that but I was wrong.

It's almost Christmas and as well as working for my Dad I have been helping Father Joe to organise the nativity. My Dad has a new builder working for him, Paul, he's a few years older than me and has been helping with the scenery for the nativity. He talks to me I get a bit flustered around him. The first time I met him was when I popped in to see my Dad one afternoon after college and they were having their Christmas party in the yard and he, Paul had mistletoe hanging round his waist. He came to talk to me, but one of my brothers came and rescued me and then Paul went off but I saw him talking to a girl, woman, his girlfriend so I think he was being friendly when he came to chat to me. That was when Steven was visiting because he met me from work on the Friday and the Saturday and Paul didn't seem to like him, he acted really weird with him.

This morning I went to meet Father Joe and Paul. I was sorting costumes and Paul was finishing off the scenery...the nativity is in a few days. Father Joe was coming and going, I guess it's one of the church's busy time, Christmas. I felt weird, unwell. I was hot and felt sick and my legs hurt, really bad, but I thought that was because I'd hurt them. I don't know how but they had lots of bruises on them, up the top by my thighs. I must have bumped them at the yard without realising, I do that because it's so full of stuff. Paul keeps asking me if I am ok and looking at me weirdly, although I am sweating so I must look a bit of a state. Father Joe brings us some lunch, but I can't eat, I know I will definitely be sick if I eat. And then that is when it happens, when it all goes wrong. I stand up, I need the toilet and then I have the worst stomach pain ever. I double over and end up in a heap on the floor. Where I am sitting is wet and I can't figure out why. When I look down I am confused because I see red everywhere, I am bleeding all over my jeans, but I don't understand but looking at their faces I think Paul and Father Joe do.

They both take me to hospital and although they keep saying they're going to call my parents I beg them not to, not yet and they agree. Once I get to the hospital a nice nurse takes me through to a cubicle and then a doctor sees me. He gives Paul a dirty look but smiles at me and Father Joe. As the doctor begins to speak I am confused by his words and what they mean. He is saying I am pregnant, was pregnant and that the bruises are from the pill, that I can't take the pill. He wants me to stay in hospital, but I can't, my Mum would find out and she would be really disappointed in me and angry and this would make my Dad sad, very sad. The doctor isn't happy about me going home but Father Joe convinces him to keep me for a few hours and then if I still can't go home he will call my parents.

I get to go home later, much later and Father Joe has told my parents that I have been helping him and that he will drop me off at home. Paul has promised me that he won't tell my Dad and I don't know why but I believe him.

I am lying in bed, I still feel unwell and now, today I feel worse than yesterday, when I had a miscarriage. I had no clue I was pregnant...I was on the pill. I don't know if taking the pill and having that reaction to it caused the miscarriage or if it causing that reaction allowed me to become pregnant...I'm confused, really confused, I don't understand how this happened. Maybe I should have known...did I do something I shouldn't, something to cause this. I keep crying as I imagine my parent's reaction if they knew, but I cry more for my baby, mine and Steven's, even if I didn't want a baby yet, hadn't planned it and then I cry for myself, this is all such a mess.

What I really need is a cuddle, for someone to hold me and tell me it's ok, that I am not a bad person who got what she deserved, but in my head that's all I hear that this happened because I am bad, that this is the consequence for all of my sins and now all of my dreams and hopes have gone along with my baby, my self-respect and Steven and this is not ok, it will never be ok because somehow I have managed to not only get pregnant but I have killed my own baby and for that I will never, ever forgive myself and I will never ask for forgiveness from anyone or anything because I know I don't deserve it.

Victoria's Diary Aged 35 and a Half

My own sobs are drowned out by those of my parents who are flanking me and throwing their arms around me and holding me, rocking and hugging me, the same hug I have been waiting for since that day they have just read about. My Mum is telling me that it's ok, that she failed me by not being there and that I have nothing to be ashamed of. My Dad is saying that I have nothing to be ashamed of and that these things happen and I don't need forgiveness because I never did anything wrong and like that I feel as though the weight of that secret sin has been lifted from my shoulders leaving me somehow unburdened.