I didn't even try to speak to my wee sister as she was 37 weeks pregnant and I didn't see her on her own and it isn't the kind of conversation you can have at a toddler's party. So many times I tried to bring it up with my big sister but I just couldn't get the words past my throat and then the circumstances changed and it was no longer appropriate.
The truth is I'm tired. I'm tired of being the only person in my family who will recognise the truth. I'm tired of having to fit in with them but without them having to make any effort to fit in with me. I'm tired of doing what they think is right for them without them even considering what could be right for me. It just underlines the feeling that in my family I don't matter.
The division that was created twenty eight years ago when we were taken into care is still there. I don't know why they were together and I wasn't with them. I don't know why they had a more settled time in care than I did. It was probably just circumstances. The problems are the massive psychological effect it had on me then and continues to have now and the impact it has had on our relationship as siblings. I struggle not to feel abandoned by them. I have to physically tell myself that it wasn't their decision, it wasn't their fault, that as children they were no more in a position to inform council practice than I was but that isn't how I feel. I feel unwanted, unloved, abandoned, lonely, alone and hurting.
It's clear they have a better relationship than either of them have with me. They have years more shared experiences. While I was up they were chatting about things they got up to as teenagers, I wasn't a part of any of that. They aren't trying to exclude me but I feel excluded and that raises all the emotions I felt as a child. They also live relatively close together and see a lot more of each other. They are both much more mentally stable than I am and in some ways much closer in personality. I am the awkward one, the one who doesn't know how to cope socially, the one who hides in a corner. They are outgoing, sociable, confident etc.
Maybe our respective personalities would have meant that they would have been closer as a general rule even without the years of separation as children but I would like to have experienced that and know it as opposed to every single innocent comment from them cutting my soul into shreds.
My wee sister had her daughter on Friday. I now have a niece. I am ripped into bits by this. First of all I'm delighted that she is born and is healthy and very very cute. That is the normal response to a baby being born. Then come all the other responses.
I want to scream and cry at the unfairness of it all. My babies are dead. My sisters don't even know my babies existed. I'm 38 now so the chances of having a child now are infinitesimal. I will never experience what they have experienced. I will never enjoy the joy of pregnancy, only the awfulness and horror. I will never expectantly wait to discover and help to mould the personality of a wee person who is utterly dependent on me. I need to mourn this. I can't do it publicly, instead I have to hide my mourning. Slap the happy face on. Tears of a fuckwit.
They have chosen to use my sister's maiden name as a middle name which is quite common and shouldn't bother me. It really really bothers me. I see my surname as my father's name, as a part of him that I am forced to exist with. I know I could change it but I don't want to have to deal with the explanations to all and sundry about why I have chosen to do so. Knowing that tiny wee girl has the name of a man that raped small girls is disturbing to me to say the least. Knowing my sister chose to do this says all that needs to be said about her view of the past. Or maybe she's normal, maybe she just sees it as a name. Maybe to her it doesn't have the insidious creep of him into me that I experience when I think about it.
I feel I need to protect the baby. The problem is that my abnormal mind always goes too far. The world isn't safe, the only real protection is death. Yes, I know this is bollocks, fucked up, mental thinking but it's escaping into my head. It scares me although I know it isn't something I would really do. Thinking something and doing something are two very different things. But I desperately don't want to have a mind that thinks about these things. I don't want to be a freak.
I'm going back to work tomorrow after two weeks leave. It's hugely important that I don't fuck this up and that I attend regularly and don't go off sick. The problem is that the stress of the last few months has somehow become focused on this tiny baby. This baby has irrationally become a symbol, a symptom and a metaphor. I cannot become obsessed with this. I can feel Notgod creeping into the sides of my head wanting to attack me. This cannot happen. Of course the birth of a child, especially a girl, is going to be massively triggering for me but I need to remain functionally sane. I have to keep going forward, I can't afford to step into the world of madness. But I know I'm not normal.