I had no intention of having a baby—I couldn’t even look after myself. My life was only just beginning and it felt so promising. I was going to be a famous actress, people were going to clamber over themselves for my autograph. But the moment I saw the outline of the baby’s head, my heart clenched.
‘Well, here’s the reason you’ve been so drained, you’re having twins. Congratulations.’ The sonographer looked at me. I think it must have been the first time she noticed my youthfulness and my tears. ‘I’m sorry, love, I didn’t realise this was an unplanned pregnancy.’
I got off the table and walked myself back to my room. I had created something, did I want to undo that? These babies were already living inside me. Could I make this decision on my own, was I even entitled to act without telling Ben? I knew to keep the babies would be even crueller. Apart from love I had nothing to offer.
Mum came into my room fifteen minutes later. She was as pale as a ghost. ‘You’re ten weeks along, we have to act soon. The doctors have booked you in for the surgery in three days but it’s in Brisbane so I will have to drive you there.’
She had made all the arrangements before consulting me. Legally, she had to, as I was still underage. I didn’t argue, in fact I didn’t say a thing, I just sobbed for three days straight.
My mother drove me to the clinic—I say clinic with my tongue pressed firmly into my cheek. It was a dodgy old house with tall grass and a fence barely standing erect. Once inside I refused to fill in their questionnaire, or speak to the psychologist. That made her job easy; ‘termination approved’ was stamped on my file. I was given a robe and a sanitary pad. I remember refusing to say thank you. They led me through to theatre. I wasn’t kicking and screaming, all my inner strength, pride and self-esteem had left me. They lay me on the steel table. My legs were placed onto stirrups. My mind swung back to the last time I found myself in this position, aged eleven in the hospital after my incident in the car. Years on and I was still not in entire possession of my own body.
The nurse told me I needed to wiggle my bottom down closer to the edge. I could see a sliding steel tray directly under my bum and I knew that would be the final resting place for my unborn children. My heart was aching. As the needle went in, I felt violated all over again. But my body didn’t flinch and I stayed silent. Even my eyes were dry. Then everything went black.
***
As I lay on the recovery bed I prayed for death to come and take me. I didn’t want to get up, talk, dress or face life ever again. But the smell of the place was surely worse than what lay waiting for me outside. Surgery has its own distinct smell. I could even taste it. On the way home, Mum had to pull over twice so that I could vomit. Then I spoke.
‘Mum, I am never going through this ever again. No one will ever touch me again unless I say so.’
She just nodded.
Never to Return
As much as it was uncomfortable living with Mum, I stayed there for the emotional support. Jeffery and I began to disagree constantly. He couldn’t understand why I was not like his daughter, in uni and in bed every night by ten o’clock. Most evenings I wouldn’t even come home. Mum knew it was because of him that I stayed away.
She also couldn’t answer him when he asked why she allowed me so much adult responsibility and free reign. One morning we were fighting about the amount of board I should pay. Mum wanted eighty dollars a week. I thought that was unreasonable considering I slept on the couch, only after everyone went to bed, then was jumped on at the crack of dawn by my brothers, who wanted to watch cartoons.
Jeffrey decided to add, ‘Well, if that’s not good enough, move out.’
Now there’s a thought! Why had this clarity not come from me? ‘Fine, I will.’
‘Good,’ said my mother’s lips but her eyes were hurting—she liked and needed my presence. But this was a call to arms moment: Jeffery was making my mother choose sides and, true to form, she chose dick. ‘If you are still here when I come back from shopping, I’ll throw you out myself.’ With a slam of the door, Mum and her freeloader were gone.
I borrowed next-door’s newspaper and looked up the share accommodation section. I rang a number and asked if I could come over to look at the house. There were two men, Daryl and Jason, already renting the three-bedroom house, and they both appeared to be fairly laid back and, best of all, they didn’t reek of sexual frustration. I moved in that day. I didn’t tell them about the fight I had had with my mother. One of them offered to drive me back to Mum’s house with his ute.
We were just loading the last of my gear as Mum and Jeffrey came home.
‘Where are you going?’ she screamed. ‘Who is this guy? Is this someone else you are fucking?’
When she realised I was going, she began pulling some of the stuff I had out of the trailer, saying it was hers.