Invisible Tears

by Abigail Lawrence

  Without Lawrie, it meant I would have to face reality, that there was no such thing as hope, that I was going to be a mum and I was going to have a child who would depend on me, alone. Me? I can’t even look after myself, how am I going to take care of a baby?

  All the fantasies in the world didn’t prepare me for his fatal, last letter. “I’m sorry Abbie, it’s over,” he said. It hit me like a torpedo. His letters stopped coming and the phone didn’t ring. I knew that was it. He was off to sea with no way for me to try and stop it. I had absolutely no control. I had to sit back and watch the breakup, alone. I never felt so helpless. I knew deep down inside that Lawrie wanted the baby. I knew that he wanted me, after all he had bagged one of the school’s major catches. Well, so he assured me often enough. Why would he let me go without a good fight? Did he fight? Maybe he did and lost. All I knew was, I was pregnant and alone.

  My heart was torn apart, and I could hardly breathe. I panicked and even considered having an abortion. But even if I did, would Lawrie be allowed to see me again? I doubt it, his mum had made up her mind. She’s formed her opinions, right or wrong. I knew it would be a fight with her before I could have her Lawrie back. I didn’t know what to do. I stayed in my house for weeks, sulking, slipping back into the depression that had so often consumed me. Lawrie had been first to lift the clouds of darkness and now he was gone. What am I going to do now? Who will want me with a baby?

  I had a lot of planning to do. It didn’t occur to me at first, but I soon realised that having the baby would be the one thing in my life that was all mine, the one person who would love me unconditionally. It took some time to figure out that this was the best thing that ever happened to me.

  Maggie was convinced that I had gotten pregnant on purpose. I hadn’t. I was on the pill, how could it be on purpose? I showed her the packet, but she still didn’t believe me. I had taken them all, but what the Doctor didn’t tell me, when I had been prescribed antibiotics for a chest infection, was that I needed to use additional protection. Nevertheless, there was no doubt in my mind, I knew I would be keeping the baby. I rubbed my stomach feeling the bump, a bump that was steadily growing inside me.

  “I will look after you, baby, don’t worry,” I told my stomach, gently rubbing it. “I’ll be here for you, and I will never allow you to be treated the way I was as a child. I promise you that!”

  Maggie came to ante-natal classes and all the midwifery appointments with me. We even started getting on a lot better since she told me I was pregnant. I could almost say friends. She helped me pick out baby clothes and advised me on what I needed. The social services gave me a grant to help buy things like a cot and a pushchair. Most of the items I bought were second hand, but the baby wouldn’t know the difference.

  Lawrie was neither seen nor heard of; he had no involvement at all, much to Maggie’s pleasure.

  “I told you he wouldn’t support you, didn’t I?”

  She often waved the red flag in my face. She always had to be right. Why can’t she be wrong, I wondered, just this once? I really needed her to be wrong. I left loads of messages for him with his mum. I heard he had left sea school and was now working on the ferries. He never returned a single phone call.

  Appointments were every month at first and everything was perfect. I found out at 18 weeks that I was going to have a little girl. To say I was overjoyed, would be an understatement. Towards the end of my pregnancy, it got to the point where I couldn’t get myself up if I sat down. My stomach was huge.

  My due date was the 17th of February. My leap year baby wasn’t far away and, when it passed uneventfully, I was in a ditch. I was so upset. At that point I didn’t care how much pain labour and childbirth would bring, I just wanted it over and done. My baby girl refused to come out, and I kept counting the days. Where did she get all this stubbornness? Ten days later I was admitted to hospital to be induced.

  I left another message with Lawrie’s mum when I was in the early stages of labour. I asked him to come to the hospital if he wanted to be with me when she was born. He never came.

  I was screaming in pain when my contractions were two to three minutes apart. My labour had been full on since the first contraction. An injection of Pethidine was given, and it didn’t take long before I was in the land of Ga Ga. Ah yes, I did remember. I recognised this place, it had been a long while since I had been stoned.

  Then they asked about my last bowel movement. How embarrassing! I had to do it on the bed where I lay. Talk about torture. Pain, pain, and more pain!

  “Get it out of me!” I screamed at the poor midwife. I then received the hiding of a lifetime. They had to cut me down below and the pain was indescribable. She was coming so fast I was ripping. I didn’t even have the chance to push and there she was, this beautiful little person I had been waiting forever to meet. There was no noise though, no cry, the room was manic, nurses and doctors running around. The baby was taken out of the room in a dreadful silence.

  “Where is she? Why are they taking my baby?” I was getting in a right mess, shouting at Maggie who had been with me throughout the whole labour. It seemed like forever, that macabre silence then it finally came. “Whaaaaaaaa!” That cry was music to my ears and I breathed a long sigh of relief.

  “She was sleepy from the Pethidine you had, it’s all okay,” the doctor assured me. “Baby is fine.”

  Again I tried to contact Lawrie. I spoke to his mum telling her how Lawrie now had a daughter and that she was a grandma and the baby was fine. I told her all about how beautiful she was with her mop of dark fluffy hair and how much she looked like Lawrie. She promised to pass on the message.

  I had no idea what to expect really. Everyone had told me various stories or offered opinions and tried to put me off in the early days. I heard countless horror stories of giving birth, but to be honest it wasn’t all that bad, especially when it was over. Or is that nature helping me to forget the pain?

  I found it hard over the next few weeks. Maggie pretty much left me to it, but she was in reach if I needed her. It was about then that I looked at her and realised what a friend she was. She was my mum and I had just rejected her all those years. She had never done a thing to hurt me, I caused it all myself. Am I growing up? Maybe it’s maternal feelings. I thought I was grown up, after all, I was a mum now. I had to think about the baby, not just myself.

  I tried to forget Lawrie, but every time I looked at the baby I saw him. She looked so much like him. Everybody said it all the time too, so it wasn’t just me. I couldn’t escape it. I rang so often to speak to him, almost to the extent of becoming a stalker myself. It wasn’t long though before I realised his mum wasn’t giving him the messages.

  It was always, “He is in bed,” or “He is at work,” or “He’s nipped out.” I think I heard every excuse under the sun as to why I couldn’t talk to him. I guess I just wanted to hear from his lips that he wasn’t interested. I needed to hear it from him personally and not his mum.

  Chapter 34

  “Everything is fine,” the consultant said, pulling Lilly’s hips around. It was the day of my post natal. The baby and I were getting checked to make sure we were both fine and healthy. Lilly lay there having a major temper tantrum. She screamed her cat like impressions informing the doctor in a very loud verbal manner that he should just leave her alone!

  “Nice healthy lungs,” he grinned, looking into her mouth and pushing her tongue down to see in her throat.

  “All is well. Just go along to the baby clinic regularly to check on her weight. You’re both doing great,” he winked at me then left the room leaving me to calm her down. I dressed Lilly as her screams began to fade.

  I named her Lilly after my friend. I guess she was probably the only true friend I ever had, my longest running friendship when times were tough. I appreciated her being there, I needed her much more than she needed me, but I never let on.

  She was over the moon when I called to tell her about Lilly. She visited me in hospit
al and held the baby once, but I never did see her again. I guess you can’t exactly put a baby on the back of a scooter can you? I had moved on and she left me to it. I wouldn’t have fit into the “being cool” group with a pram in front of me. Funny how my perspective changed. Mods didn’t seem so important now.

  Some of the girls from Woolworth’s called to say hello and offered to take me out to celebrate the post natal. It was the “beginning of freedom after childbirth,” they said. I really didn’t want to go, but Maggie persuaded me.

  “You need some free space.”

  “No it’s okay… I’m fine honest.”

  “You get yourself out and relax. Go on have some fun. You never know when the next time will be,” she said with a furrowed brow, but in a jokey way.

  “But...”

  “You’ve got eighteen years of hard work ahead of you girl!”

  “Okay, okay,” I agreed, getting ready to go out. The problem is I don’t know who I am. I can’t dress like a mod anymore. How can I be a mod and a mum? The two just don’t mix.

  Maggie helped me out and lent me a dress to wear. It was pretty forgiving of a belly that was hanging around, loose and stretched from childbirth.

  I looked at myself in the mirror. I’m certainly not going to wow anyone tonight, I thought raising my eyebrows. I stuck my tongue out at myself and left the room. I grabbed my bag, gave Maggie a hug and gently kissed Lilly on the forehead while she slept. Picking up the Polaroid’s to show my workmates, I headed off on the walk into town.

  “I’ll pick you up at 1:00 am at the club,” dad called after me.

  “Okay, no worries,” I said looking back at Lilly fast asleep in her carrycot in the living room.

  “She’ll be fine,” Maggie smiled. “Now get going before I change my mind.”

  I felt lost walking into town, no baby and pretty much no belly. I felt alone again and I had only left the house two minutes ago. Already I was wishing the night would end. I considered turning back, but I knew that Maggie wanted to play with Lilly by herself without me watching her every move, just like any normal Grandmother would.

  The music thumped away and the club was packed. I don’t think I had ever been to a real nightclub, well, not one without sixties or soul music playing. The dance floor was heaving. Visage was playing Fade to Grey and lots of people were dancing like a hundred robots.

  I felt a tug on my arm and was quickly ushered into the club with the girls from Woolworth’s. I wasn’t feeling up to dancing. The truth was I didn’t know how to dance to this sort of music. I sort of shuffled around trying to still look cool and let people think I actually knew what I was doing. Ain't No Body followed, by Rufus and Chaka Khan. I loved that song and danced away forgetting everything for a minute. It’s Raining Men was blended into the end of it, The Weather Girls. Everyone singing along, I knew the song. Dad used to tape the Top 20 on the radio every week and I would listen while I helped him clean his trucks out. If only it was raining men! I giggled to myself.

  Photos of Baby Lilly were passed around, everyone oooing and ahhing over her locks of brown fluffy hair and big blue eyes. I had only been out for an hour and I missed her so much.

  Looking around the dance floor I saw a few people I knew. Not many recognised me without my mod gear and black bitch lines. My hair was bleached and had grown quite a bit. It was a shock when I saw him. It wasn’t too surprising that, although he looked right at me, he walked by and went and sat down without a clue. I stopped in my tracks. I couldn’t believe what I saw. Lawrie was standing there, right in front of my eyes.

  “What do I do?” I whispered to a friend, both of us looking his way. He must have felt our laser beam eyes burning a hole right through him. As his head moved up he looked directly at me. It took a few moments for him to realise who I was and finally he mouthed, “OH MY GOD.” I grabbed the pictures off of my friend and marched right over to where he was sat. He looked shocked.

  In true style he just said, “Hi, Abbie, how have you been?”

  “How have I been?” I hissed. “I’ve been giving birth to your fucking daughter, that’s what, and I’m fine thanks for asking.”

  “I…I didn’t know,” he stammered looking me right in the face.

  I found it hard to be angry. I loved him so much, seeing him just confirmed it, but he hurt me big time. How could I ever forgive him for leaving me alone?

  “Of course you knew, don’t try that one, and here’s your daughter.” I threw pictures in his direction.

  “A girl?” He didn’t seem to know or he was a damn good actor. I threw more pictures of Lilly on the table in front of him and walked away. I needed to compose myself.

  I stood at the bar shaking. Inside I was scared. I certainly wasn’t expecting him here, of all people. Well at least now he can’t deny her existence, I thought.

  “I honestly didn’t know,” said a voice beside me quietly in my ear.

  I turned around and Lawrie stood there. I had waited for this moment for almost a year and now the words wouldn’t come. I paused, then I said, “I called you a thousand times and left as many messages with your mum. She knew all about it. I even rang you when I was in labour.”

  His face showed horror. I could see it was genuine shock too.

  “She is beautiful,” he smiled.

  My heart melted straight away. It never did take him long to get to me.

  “I know she is.” I played with him, posing with my hands on my hips doing my best model impression. “Of course she’s beautiful, she’s mine after all.”

  Putting his arms around my waist he drew me in. I was back in the warm, strong arms of the one man I loved.

  “She’s mine too,” he said gazing into my eyes. “From now on, she’s mine too.”

  THE END

  (Or is it the beginning?)

  Epilogue by Abigail Lawrence

  I could have gone on a lot longer with my story because the troubles didn’t suddenly end when I got back together with my baby’s father. But I have told you all I really need to tell. I wanted to try and convey that even when horrific things happen to you as a child, you can pick yourself up, dust yourself off and make a good life if you choose. I chose to be a survivor and not a victim. No, it wasn’t easy, not for a minute.

  With a great deal of pain and introspection, I have told it all in grim detail. After keeping such secrets for thirty years the telling has been therapeutic in one way and troublesome in another.

  Lawrie and I stuck together much to our family’s disgust--at first--and we married when baby Lilly was four years old. She was my bridesmaid. I was pregnant with our second baby then too, and we are now blessed with two beautiful girls. We had to go it alone in the beginning and struggle through because everyone was against us. We moved in together one week after meeting up at the disco. Our families gave us an ultimatum, and we chose each other. Ahh, young love conquers all! We went and rented a bedsit and that’s where we started. We made an awful lot of mistakes but the one mistake I didn’t make was falling in love with Lawrie. It was the best thing I ever did.

  I had pretty much stopped doing drugs when I met Lawrie. He helped me through a lot of issues and showed me other ways to deal with my pain. Over the years he has been both my hero and my saviour. He broke down all the barriers and taught me it was okay to cry. I was about 25 years old before I learned how normal people cry, and when I did, I didn’t think I would ever stop. It was like Niagara falls. I cried when I was happy and cried when I was sad, just like other people do. Yup, I’m a prize winning crier now.

  It seems like Lawrie has spent most of his life trying to make me happy. At times I know I’m still difficult, always burdened with my past. But then all the things that happened to me are what make me, ME. Today I live on a farm with my own horses. I don’t need to steal other peoples anymore to have a ride.

  My step mother? Well, I have nothing to do with her and never want to, but I did tell her how I felt in person. I thought it would make
me feel better when I told her how much she hurt me, but her denial of some things and how it would affect someone mentally just made me feel even more worthless. I was hoping for some closure and got nothing but pain. When she started to train to become a social worker, I panicked and wrote to the Social Services telling them truth. All of us kids did. How could she advise other families? She stopped training. I don’t know if it was her decision or not, but it was for the best.

  No, I didn’t go to the police, engage the legal system, or try and press charges against Uncle Joe or mum. I couldn’t even describe to you what he looked like some 30 odd years later or tell you his last name or the others. My mind has blocked most all of that out. I do remember the faces of the other kids though. I absolutely will never forget their screams of pain. I just hope they survived.

  Abuse of children by adults still goes on everyday around the world. It creates shame, fear and confusion in a child and these emotions, in turn, produce silence. Silence is well known to be one of the pernicious fruits of abuse. It means that allegations most often surface many years after the abuse has ceased. Then it is too late for criminal proceedings to be successful. But--and there is a but--the victim needs to know that telling the secrets--sorry Molly--is the best therapy. The pain will never completely go away, but some of the hurt will fade leaving room for true happiness.

  When I was writing this story, I hoped I might remember more, because there is a lot I can’t fully recall, just snippets of horror. Much of it is all locked away in my safe place, thankfully.

  My step sister, Molly, died when she was 33. She had become a serious self harmer. She attempted suicide so many times but always survived. She jumped off a bridge onto a dual carriageway and lived. She jumped off a hospital roof and had a lot of broken bones but lived. She even cut her wrists and her own throat and survived. Finally, she was sectioned and put into secure care where she hung herself whilst on ten minute suicide watch! She died leaving a son who will never know his father, because he was another guy that mum had set up. I don’t think Molly ever knew what true love felt like, poor girl.