Mummy's Boy - J A Andrews

Prologue

Patricia Mullner – Then

Wednesday, 11 September 1998

I held my beautiful baby in my hands as I shook with worry and fear. This lovely little boy had been born without any complications, and now I could take him home. Every inch of his small body was perfectly formed; this fresh new life needing to be nurtured, to be shaped by our love.

Labour had been a traumatic ten hours of intense stress. The pain, both emotionally and physically, for such a length of time had my heartbeat pounding like crazy. Every minute that passed felt like time was slowing down. The nerves and the anxiety were all too much of a strain for me. I was so worried about the first time I would meet my baby, but, in the end, it was all so much easier than I’d thought. The minute I held his head against my racing heartbeat, it was worth it. I’d go through it all again.

It was a shame that my handsome fiancé wasn’t able to be here for the birth, but I had carefully planned the events of today. Despite all the planning, nothing could have prepared me for the rush of emotion when I saw my baby’s face for the first time. I cried tears of joy, not only from seeing him, but because the stress, tension and intensity of the last ten hours of labour was over.

I was in a hurry to get home; I needed to rest as the strain of the last nine months had now come to a gorgeous end. I was still exhausted, but I needed to be in my own home. I needed my own surroundings; while my healthy baby boy could rest and feel safe at home with me – his mother.

My little boy was here; I couldn’t believe it had finally happened.

I left the hospital with him tucked in with a blanket, carefully strapped into a car seat that I clutched with both of my hands. At just six pounds, two ounces, he was small and vulnerable. I needed to get him back safely in the warm so I could look after him: he was due a feed soon. I had my fears, but I knew that it was natural. He was barely two days old. I was thankful that he was sleeping while I rushed around to find a taxi. I had to get out of that hospital because I wanted to be in my own home and shut the world away.

I was shaking with excitement that my boy had finally arrived. Nine whole months of constant planning, adapting and preparing for this joyous moment had taken over our lives. This small bundle was here in the world. My little boy, who had turned us into a real family, was looking at me. All I had ever dreamed of was a family of my own. I promised him that I would love him and care for him my whole life.

My baby, my beautiful son.

I had never experienced such a rush of love as the moment when I first saw his little face looking up at mine. I felt complete. He was perfect in every way, but I wanted to get out of that hospital to be back home. I wanted to take care of him on my own without everyone looking at me or giving me their advice.

I knew what my little boy needed.

Andrew was mine, and no one would ever separate us.

One

Patricia Mullner – Now

Sunday, 9 September 2018

Every time I close my eyes, I can see his face.

I remember the look in his eyes – he was staring back at me as he closed the door behind him. Andrew had looked lost, or maybe it was my mind playing tricks on me? Every time I relive those last few seconds; I conjure up different emotions to assure myself that he did not appear depressed. His short mousey hair, the whisper of stubble on his chin that was barely a beard yet needed a shave; all five feet seven inches of him etched in my mind. Now gone for what feels like an eternity. One cruel moment that changed our lives forever.

I can picture every fine detail of his smile that distracted from the look he was giving me with his eyes; maybe I’m over-analysing him. I wish I could stop torturing myself with the mental images. At times I visualise him leaving the house with a happy smile, although other times I am sure he was giving