On May 16, I had to get up at about five in the morning to use the bathroom, I realised that I had been having tummy pains for a few hours, although they were mild, I knew they were early contractions.
Then the ward rounds started and a young male doctor came round with the ward sister and proceeded to inform me that I would not be allowed to go home as planned as there was a doctor coming from another hospital to see me that evening.
I asked why and was quickly told by the sister that it was not their job to say anything and that a specialist doctor would be there at that night. I was left on the main ward with no visitors allowed until the evening.
The day arrived, and I went to pick up this young man called Tommy, he lived in a shared house with two other people with special needs and had carers who helped them.
Tommy had been in care since he was 13 as both his parents had died, he was an only child and did not know any other family members.
At the age of 19, she went to a local training centre, and loved every minute there, she worked in the kitchen and helped provide the main meal for the clients there.
She went to the training centre five days a week, one day she came home with a silly lovely grin on her face and asked me if she could bring a young man home for tea, he also went to the centre, he was 13 years older than her.
The sister hurriedly said we cannot commit ourselves and you must wait to see the specialist that evening.
The specialist was late by at least an hour and had to come from another hospital a distance away to see us.
These were the longest loneliest hours I had ever known.
All the other mums avoided me like I had an infectious disease, I had asked the sister and the doctor if my baby could be a ‘mongol’ baby as they were called then, if I had hit him I do not believe I could have had a more shocked reaction.