I knew when I woke up this morning that I was heading towards something. Or hurtling. Spiralling. My head was fuzzy, unable to make sense of anything – and still is now, hours later. Perhaps this is my new normal, what’s to be expected for someone like me.
Only one more hour until I can put Kayla to bed and say goodbye to another day where I don’t even know what I’ve done or accomplished.
‘Shall we have a bath?’ I say to Kayla in the sing-song voice I’ve managed to perfect. Babies pick up on tone of voice apparently, so this is one way I keep her protected from the ugly truth about me.
I hold her while we watch the bubbles, and then I place her in the bath seat and gently wash her. She seems happy this evening and giggles as the soapsuds slide down her arms; baths usually have a calming effect on her, and I wish she could stay in here until bedtime. But her skin is new and sensitive, so it has to be a quick splash only, and then I will face her anger while I fight to get her dry and into a sleepsuit. I’ve almost become immune to this all now, accepting of it, even though I know I’m one bird step away from being tipped over the edge.
She’s so helpless, lying there, unable to move and dependent on me for everything. Her life is in my hands – more responsibility than I could ever have imagined. This thought inflates and expands in my head until it’s crushing my skull.
I glance at the tap. If I just turned it on, it would fill the whole bath up with water until it was over her tiny head, and she wouldn’t be able to save herself. I shake my head. No, no no. But the thought is there, sticking to my skull, and I am unable to dislodge it. Do it, do it, do it.
And then I am screaming and lifting Kayla out of the bath, clutching her to me and wrapping her in a towel. Tears stream down my face as I whisper to her. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Over and over.
But no apology will ever make up for the monster I am.
Later, I pretend to be asleep when Aiden comes home. He’s been at a work leaving do tonight, so it’s past midnight when he slips into bed. He wouldn’t have recognised me if he’d come home at his usual time. He would have seen a woman shaken and lost, unrecognisable. Broken. There was no way tonight I would have been able to hide what I’ve managed to hide for these months. That, if given the chance, I am a woman capable of the worst atrocity.
I leave it until Aiden’s breathing signals that he’s in a deep sleep and then I grab some clothes and get dressed. The suitcase I packed earlier with essential items is already in my car; there is plenty I’m not taking and I don’t care about leaving anything behind.
Sitting on the bed, I watch Aiden for a minute, taking in every detail of him, capturing a photo in my mind that I’ll be able to retrieve at any time. And then I stand over Kayla’s cot. This is for the best, my darling girl. Mummy isn’t safe to be around. You deserve so much better than this; so much better than the hand you were dealt. None of this is your fault; please don’t ever believe that it is.
My eyes are pools of tears as I silently say goodbye to my child. I desperately want to scoop her up and hold her to me, take in her baby scent just one last time.
Finally, I feel what I wanted to from the very beginning. Love.
But it is far too late now.