Maya was meant to be her name. We decided to give her that name. But for confidentiality I will keep her real name secret.
She was born on the 16th August, I remember that day like it was yesterday. I dont know if it was the best day of my life or the worst. At 4am, I started having cramps and had a bad headache. I thought it was normal but it was getting worse and worse and eventually I had to call for help. I called the receptionist downstairs (at the time I was in a women’s refugee because of my abusive relationship), but the only thing she did was call me a cab. Yes a cab. Im still angry about it, but lets leave that for another day.
The cab turned up late to find me in pain on the main reception doorsteps. I nearly gave birth there in that taxi; the pain and fear was unbelievable. I was kicking the seat , screaming to hurry up and I had no one with me. Just myself. The driver was scared himself… he said “I’ll get you there, breathe”. I was in shock, screaming out in pain.
When we got to the hospital I was taken into an emergency room. I passed out couple of times from the pain and then, suddenly, there she was, born healthy. The hospital staff took her into a room to help with her difficulty breathing. I was worried, tired and confused. They said I couldn’t stand up for few hours, because of my stiches. Guess what? I did. I ignored them and walked to the room where my baby was. When you have a kid, your first instinct is to make sure they are ok. This is motherhood. Period.
I was bleeding. I saw the floor, covered in blood. It still makes me cringe thinking about it. Family and friends turned up few hours later and my mother and sister were in tears. It was kind of good to see them and I didn’t feel that loneliness anymore, I had familiar faces surrounding me, but someone was missing. The truth was, I was afraid to call him. I was afraid of social services. Which still today, I’m not able to get hold of. Everything has to be secretive. Thats not the life I wanted for my daughter, but right now it is not meant to be, so I have to forget about it.
I left hospital after 4 or 5 days and I didnt want to take my daughter to that refuge; a place full of damaged women, it was horrific. I needed a plan. A quick one. Tired and exhausted, I went back with mum. I had no choice. No time. I just love my daughter and would do anything in my power to provide her a safe place. Somewhere where we can call home.