This isn't the baby I wanted is not about her. It is a man of thirty-eight looking at six years of his own silence lying in a cot.
It is still the worst thing anybody has ever said in my hearing and I have not forgiven him for it and I may not.
The two days at my parents', which I have been telling as two days of grief and which were not only that.
I did things.
On the seventh I rang a solicitor. Nine minutes, free initial call, and I asked about getting him off the birth registration.
On the eighth, in the car on the way back from collecting bin bags, I drafted a message to his sister that I never sent and that is still in my phone.
It is four lines and it is extremely well written and the worst line is: I want you to know what your brother did while I was still bleeding.
