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18 Northumberland Avenue, London, UK
(+44) 871.075.0336
ouroffice@vangard.com
I was 15 when I became pregnant after being raped. My parents were instantly adamant about what should be done. I was not asked what I wanted, and I was also scared to contradict them. What are you supposed to do when you are 15 and your family does not agree with it? I thought; “if they say so, this is probably the best option.” If I knew how much pain and suffering it would create for the rest of my life, I never would have gone along with it. But I realised that in hindsight. Now I know that it destroyed me.
During the pregnancy and delivery, I shut down all of my feelings. That was not a choice, but a survival strategy. I do remember that I felt very alone during labour and thought; “when he is out, he will no longer be mine”. My eyes were covered with a wash cloth so I could not see him. But I heard him cry. And I felt the umbilical cord on my leg. I still remember that vividly, how that felt. But after that, I had to continue with my life. I did not allow myself to have feelings about what happened to me.
<strong>I heard him cry</strong>
When I got pregnant of my daughter five years later, I could no longer deny it. It brought up so many memories. This is when I contacted Fiom (a Dutch foundation that specialises in unwanted pregnancy and questions regarding parentage), and I got in touch with different support groups. When my son turned 15, I tried to get in touch with him for the first time. I received a few photos from his adoptive mother. I really appreciated this, because it puts a face to him. In my thoughts, he was always a baby without a face. And now I no longer needed to wonder if a random boy who passed me on the street might be my son.
Regardless of multiple attempts to contact him in the past years, I never got to meet him. He clearly let me know that he does not want to. That hurts a lot. I would have loved to explain to him why things happened the way they did and what it did to me. I want to know what his life is like now and to be able to touch him. That desire is immense.
Birthdays and holidays are awful. Because I miss him. It is a kind of mourning process and I was never able to get closure. Because he is not dead. He is still out there somewhere, but I cannot reach him. Through the years, I had a lot of therapy. Even just 2.5 years ago, I used to dream a lot about it too then.
In one of those dreams, I was together with my son in completely white surroundings. We were both dressed in white as well. His adoptive mother was next to me and cried, because he was leaving. I comforted her and said; “you should not cry, he will always be in your heart.” It gave me a warm feeling and for a long time I was able to think of him with a smile because of this dream. But during the past months I can no longer create that image with that feeling. It is difficult to me again. And it keeps going on like this; it comes in waves.
And this is why I need to openly talk about it every now and then, even if I find it difficult. In the end, it does make me feel better. And if I would not think of him anymore, he would truly have disappeared. I do not want that. I respect his decision and I will stop trying to contact him, but I will keep waiting for him until the day I die.
Tekst: Kim van Schie Fotografie: Ton Sondag
