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Not one single day goes by, without me thinking about James, my beloved son. Today is no different. It has been too many months since I have spoken to him or seen him. It is one of the most heartbreaking things to happen to a parent like me on a locked psychiatric ward. Just what is happening for my dear son, goodness only knows.
At this time of day, and day of week, my son will be at school. I know that he has started to attend a new school because his social worker told me, when she visited me. I am pleased with the choice of school as when he was younger than one year of age he was christened in the same school. It is a Church of England school and now he will be wearing a school uniform and I have yet to hear what he thinks of this.
I love my son and loved him from before he was born. When he was only five days old following a caesarian section delivery both he and I transferred from St Thomas' Hospital to the Bethlem Royal psychiatric Hospital's Mother and Baby Unit. This was just in case my mental health declined. It didn't. In the Mother and Baby unit my son and I bonded further and he took to his breastfeeding routine of hourly feeds day and night.
On further psychiatric hospital admissions, I wished that I could return to a place like the Mother and Baby unit, where I could go with my son. Just like respite care for HIV/AIDS mothers and their children. Unfortunately this type of facility was not available for mental health patients with children older than babies, so my child was placed in foster care.
Each time the estrangement is evermore traumatic for both him and me. Today as the days pass without my knowing when I will be released and able to take up my supervised contact sessions with him [which will lead to unsupervised contacts] I while away the days googling his image. I post cards to my son, in the meantime but I miss him dreadfully.
