She turned 40 years of age two days ago. She was such a long-for baby. I had suffered a mid term miscarriage ten months before. I became pregnant almost immediately as my fertility was not an issue. The pregnancy with her was not easy. I bled early on and was terrified I was going to lose another baby to miscarriage. I was confined to bed-rest for a month and then endued horrendous second term migraines. Eventually, all settled down and the rest of the pregnancy was trouble free until I began labour at 34 weeks gestation.
She was fine for a premmie, apart from becoming tired whilst breast feeding. So, we remained together, learning how to bond, for nearly two weeks. We came home, blissfully, to begin our lives together.
Then we embarked on a nightmare as a family. I gave birth to a little boy who died when he was seven weeks old. My twin girls were stillborn, all before she was three years of age. Finally, we welcomed a live baby boy as her sibling when she was almost three and a half years of age.
A surprise package in the form of another brother arrived two years later. She did not bond with him well, due to his physical and later other disabilities. In spite of their similarities, she could not build any meaningful relationship with him.
She was never an easy child. She was severely bullied at primary school, but was unable to respond positively to counselling, as she was far more intelligent that those well meaning school psychologists trying to help her.
We rescued her from difficult accommodation situations at least twice. Usually with less than twenty-four hours notice. She lived in Beverley on and off, with us or with a mutual friend, for a while.
She possessed a brilliant mind, which actually was the catalyst for so many of her issues. She achieved a Masters at uni and was working towards a second Masters when disaster struck in the from of COVID19.
Her world, I believed, collapsed. So, she needed to blame somebody and I was an easy target. She tried to take out a VRO (Violence Restraining Order) against me. That didn't pass mustard, so instead I was issued with a summons for a Conduct Order. That was one of the most horrendous processes ever in my life, called a Shuttle Conference Callum supported me through this truly dreadful day. All based on lies that my posts about her on this blog prevented her from becoming employed. A simple search on LinkedIn confirmed that she had not been unemployed when she stated she had been and had nothing to do with any post I had written about her.
The Conduct Order demanded I removed every piece, every photo and even the mention of her name from this blog. That was one of the most emotion driven tasks I have ever undertaken. And not contact her in any way, shape or form for twelve months.
But her revenge, and I use that word quite deliberately, was not yet over. We were summoned back five months later as she had requested an extension to the Conduct Order. We waited, distraught for four hours in the stark and soulless Magistrates Court waiting room until the procedure was dismissed due to her non-attendance.
The worst part of this tragedy is that she had chosen to take Michael's surname as her own. He could not cope with her attempted destruction of me, so he finished their relationship.
If any of Michael's biological children choose to criticise him, (as sometimes they do read my posts and make miserable comments) I shall invite them to put their money where their mouths are and come and see him. Face to face and talk to him. Otherwise I will just have the confirmation that they are just bullies and cowards.
Most of the time, these days, I cope what she did to us. She is on her own journey and I can't join her. My greatest sadness is that she has cut herself off from her family. I hope she has found happiness in her own way. And in spite of all this, I still wish her well for her future.
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