First, the guilt at having rejected my baby was foremost and overwhelming. Second, I was battling with a massive sense of failure - I am the third of four children, my elder brother and sister each had two healthy children, and my younger sister Pippa had just announced she was pregnant.
I could hardly bear to be around her. Losing the baby had become the catalyst for a whole mass of deeply rooted emotions.
And did anyone forewarn her about this?
Apparently not.
But the guilt, I realise now, I will have for ever. I pass Down's children on the street and think, 'I killed mine.'
I know they can be wonderfully loving. There is no escaping the reality of what I did, or the way I mentally rejected my baby.
Mentally?
Not just mentally.
People lie to themselves when they feel guilty.
How can she feel right about something she obviously feels guilty about? If it was the right decision, after two years of therapy, she shouldn't feel guilty.
Welcome to the age of moral relativism.
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