CHAPTER SIX

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BEFORE
Cordelia Waters
December 5, 2015

They're calling it Postpartum Psychosis. It's the only explainable answer they have for my behaviour and feelings as of late. It all started during the first week after Emerald was born.

I knew something wasn't right from the time she was conceived. From that very moment that I held out the stick that read positive. But Weston was so ecstatic; he'd always wanted a baby. We had talked about it briefly in the past. I made it abundantly clear that I didn't want children. That my career would always come first in my life, and I planned on keeping it that way. Around the time that we found out, I had just been promoted to top ranking Project Manager, which meant higher pay and more responsibilities. The pregnancy couldn't have come at a worse time. But despite our conversations in the past, Weston never took me quite seriously. No one did. I was used to my feelings being disregarded. Oh, you're still young, you don't know what you want yet. Or, you'll change your mind. All women are meant to be mothers!

Weston felt that way as well – that I would eventually change my views on child rearing. I tried to laugh off his ignorance and politely warn him – before he married me – that children were not in my foreseeable future. He was convinced that I'd change my mind one day. I guess he remained hopeful for that very thought.

I came out of the bathroom crying. Once I saw the pink double lines, I broke. Aware of the fact that tests can sometimes reveal false positives, I took another. And another. And they all gave me the same result: positive.

I broke down when I told Weston. But when I said the words, his eyes lit up, and I hadn't seen him look that excited since our wedding day. As I cried and expressed my protest towards the pregnancy, he reassured me that it would be okay and that he would take care of me.

You're probably wondering what happened. Most women in my situation would have gotten an abortion. Most women wouldn't have been persuaded by their husband's sweet eyes and persistent cries. But whatever strength I had on refraining from child rearing seemed to dissolve as the weeks progressed. I began feeling guilty for wanting to have an abortion. I was raised in a religious home – abortion is murder! Pro Life! – so the very thought alone, no matter how hard I tried to disregard my mother's voice in my head, just seemed wrong to me. And with that guilt, and Weston's persistence and excitement, I somehow came to the conclusion that I would keep the baby. That was my first mistake: deciding to keep an unwanted child solely for the sake of another person.

There were a number of reasons why I never wanted children. The first and foremost was that I simply had no desire. I never felt 'motherly' feelings towards anything before. I'd watched my friends gush over babies over the years, dreaming of the day they'd have their own. I'd cringe and think, God help me if I ever get knocked up. But somehow even condoms and birth control couldn't prevent my Emerald from being conceived.

Maybe I wasn't held enough as a child. My father used to tell me how much I hated being held. Said I was never much of a cuddler. Liam loved to be held, they said. Relished every minute of it. But every time they placed me on their laps or tried to hold me, I'd cry and squirm, trying to get away and be on my own.

As a teenager I despised children, though I'd never make that sentiment obvious. I babysat a lot. For neighbors, teachers, my mother's friends. I did it because I needed money. Teenagers buy a lot of things that they don't need. I'd put on a big, fake smile, get real close to the kids, tickle them, laugh with them, pick them up, anything really. Parents loved me. Said I was an angel with their children. An angel.

When the parents were out of sight, I couldn't be bothered with the children. Thank God for the television, which became the easiest escape from my duties. Sometimes I'd find myself babysitting infants who were constantly crying and needing attention. I think that was what initially put me off from the idea of having children. They were so much work. And quite frankly, I felt neutral towards their existence.

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