Amy Cole Has Lost Her Mind
by
Elizabeth McGivern
Amy Cole is
a stay-at-home mum and a woman on the edge.
After
a very public breakdown and failed suicide attempt, Amy finds herself trying to
make it through her everyday life as a high-functioning zombie.
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Elle De
Bruyn is a force of nature ready to shake Amy back to life whether she likes it
or not.
After
a fortuitous meeting, the two embark on a journey together which will change
them both and help them find out exactly what they’re capable of when rock
bottom is just the beginning.
Excerpt
This extract is a
flashback to the events which start the book in motion. Amy suffers a
miscarriage and the fall-out of it causes ramifications for her and her family
from the hospital right through to the present day:
I woke up
bleeding on 10th December. I threw myself out of the bed and ran into the
bathroom. Even before I saw the blood I knew what was happening.
What is it
about being pregnant that makes you think that love and sheer stubborn will can protect your child?
I gripped onto
my stomach, feeling the start of the piercing pain ripping in my womb. I sat on
the floor with hundreds of thoughts going through my mind.
Some relevant, others
not.
Ben was in
England on business and the boys were still asleep. My eyes were burning and I
ached to cry but I couldn't give into tears, not just yet. I decided that I
could save this baby. I knew if I just got to a doctor then I could save my
little girl.
I packed up my
children, who were still fast asleep, and left them with the child-minder. To
this day I don't know how I kept it together that entire day. All I knew was
that if I let one tear fall, it was as good as admitting defeat and I didn't
know how to do that. My daughter needed me.
After a very
terse conversation with a GP receptionist, I was told to go to the hospital.
By the time I
got to the emergency department's reception I was shaking so badly I thought I
was going to faint then and there.
They must have
noticed the panic on my face as I was seen by a doctor quite quickly. I
answered the obligatory questions and blood was taken for testing. I was asked
to sit back in reception and I would be called soon.
The wait was
agony and every time I went to the bathroom to clean more blood away I was
getting more and more agitated. I didn't understand why no one was grasping how
urgent this was.
I watched
countless people come in and out. I imagined their stories and gave them names
and tragic backstories - that way I could comfort myself knowing that by the
time I was seen by a doctor and told everything was fine, I would go home
feeling lucky. I was certain that the doctor would give me some sort of tablet
or injection to stop the bleeding and I would go home to take it easy.
I decided that
I would take months off work and sit on my ever-expanding arse until my daughter
was ready to make her appearance.
I knew it was
a girl. A mother knows these things – one of the many bullshit things I
convinced myself of during those eight hours of waiting.
Eventually, I
was told they had lost the blood samples but they had finally located them
around 9pm.
After the
briefest of examinations, I was informed that my baby was gone. They told me to
go home and let "nature do its work".
I was offered
no words of comfort or an explanation, something I so desperately needed.
Still, I did not cry.
I picked up
the kids, on autopilot, and returned home to a quiet house. They had fallen
asleep in the back of the car and I was tempted to wake them up just to have
some distraction or company. My phone had died hours ago and, no doubt, Ben
would be anxious to hear from me, but I couldn't find the words to say it out
loud.
I hated that
phrase.
I hadn't
‘lost' anything. My body had let me down.
The body that
I had finally grown to love after years of shallow self-loathing had become my
enemy once again.
It had killed
my daughter.
The numbness
carried on for weeks. My family thought I was just being stoic and getting on
with things – while those around me offered gems like:
"Sure, it
was early days anyway so it wasn't that bad."
This was a
direct quote from an ill-informed, but well-meaning aunt.
I had an easy to
remember go-to response for when I was asked how I was feeling; I simply
shrugged and said:
"These
things happen."
People seemed
satisfied with this, but to be honest I had no idea what that even meant in a
situation like this. I knew they were all waiting for me to cry, but still, no
tears came.
I tried a few
times but it was as if every attempt to find my heart again was futile. I was a
high functioning zombie.
Six weeks
later I started to hear her; the hideous version of myself that rejoiced in my
failure. I hated her, but unfortunately, by this stage, I was in no shape to
defend myself against her onslaught of visceral abuse. It didn't take her long
to gain more and more ground and soon I was lying awake night after night,
listening to a new list of insults.
It was around
3am on a Wednesday that she first planted the seed.
If you go to
the lake, all this will stop. I promise. Your family will be so much happier
without you. Deep down, you know that's the truth.
After weeks of
feeling shame and continuous mental and physical pain, I felt like I had an
answer on how to make it all go away.
I wasn't
scared or feeling guilty about who I was leaving behind. I believed her when
she told me they were better off without me.
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Picture credited to
Jess
Lowe
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Elizabeth McGivern
is a former journalist turned hostage-in-her-own-home surrounded by three men
and a horrible dog named Dougal.
In an effort to
keep her sanity she decided to write a parenting blog after the birth of her
first son so she can pinpoint the exact moment she failed as a mother.
In an unexpected
turn of events, the blog helped her to find a voice and connect with parents in
similar situations; namely those who were struggling with mental health issues
and parenting. It was because of this encouragement – and wanting to avoid her
children as much as possible – her debut novel, Amy Cole has lost her
mind, was born.
Elizabeth lives in
Northern Ireland although wishes she could relocate to Iceland on a daily
basis. To witness her regular failings as a parent you can find her on:
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