(Finished) Matching Mary

babyann

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So…I have had a bit of a pause, and Mommy and I are carefully planning how I can move down to Cape Town as soon as possible. Even before I find a job there, I am not actually earning much here, and my boss agrees that I can do almost all the work he needs of I work remotely. The whole situation in South Africa is really complicated and very scary right now. Our vaccinations are being rolled out really slowly (Mommy has had her first jab, bu I need to wait a bit longer. But then we have had a whole lot of problems after our former President was sent to jail. His supporters have been rioting and then looting, starting off in Durban, but the riots have spread to here. We had several nights where I was really scared, with gunshots and sirens going all night. I have had my door locked and bolted, and even kept my lights dimmed so no one would know that anyone was in. But I have an old friend coming to stay here for a while. Thandie lives in one of the worst townships, and has had an awful life. Being a lesbian is doubly dangerous in those areas. Gangs of men are known to attack lesbians, even in their own home and rape them, to “cure” them of homosexuality. It is called corrective rape. It really happens. With the rioting there is more and more lawlessness happening, and she phoned me out of the blue, scared for her life. We used to have a relationship several years ago, and she knows about my little side, but it was actually part of why the relationship stopped as she finds it all a bit strange and not a turn on at all. Plus, back then she was still a heavy drug user, and I was trying to get myself clean. So she is coming to stay, and then she will keep an eye on things when I leave for Cape Town. I know I will feel better if she is here too, as I won’t be so jumpy all on my own. She is a real tough cookie, but has had to deal with some awful stuff In her life. I have made up a bed for her and put most of my little stuff away, so she doesn’t get weirded out too much. But I can’t wait until she gets here. I have never heard her sound so terrified. I even said she could come before asking Mommy. Mommy knows all about her (and therefore her and me!), but She immediately agreed that we had to get Thandie to safety first. She will be safe here and then I know my flat will be safe too, when I leave.
 

babyann

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Chapter 12: Backward Step

As it was getting very close to my final exams at school, we agreed that I should attend school even though I could not write anything at that stage, or even hold a book still, but Auntie Suzanne spoke to the teachers and she would drive me to school and I was allowed to sit at the front of the classroom. And then when I finished, Auntie Suzanne and Mary were waiting for me outside the school, often in the car, but sometimes they walked to collect me. For once in my life, people were nice and kind to me at school, and the teachers actually noticed me. But it brought up another problem. While I was at home it was only a bit humiliating to have to ask Auntie Suzanne to help me with the toilet, there was no way I was going to ask anyone at school to do the same. Several times, I was bursting by the time school finished and we had to rush home so Auntie Suzanne could help me with the toilet.

One day, the walk home took a little bit too long. I had needed a wee from about halfway through the morning, and by the time the bell rang to announce the end of the day, I was bursting! I was hoping that they had come in the car, but my heart sank when I saw Auntie Suzanne stood with Mary waving at me from her stroller. I was asked if there was anything wrong as I must have looked concerned, but I couldn’t tell them there what the problem was. We began walking home very slowly, and I was getting more and more desperate with any step. Finally I admitted that I really needed a wee. But we were still some minutes away from home. We picked up the pace, but it was too late…I felt a spurt of wee flood into my knickers and wet down my thighs into my socks. At one point I had to stop completely, and stood with my legs tightly crossed, but to no avail, as another jet of wee filled my now soaking knickers and ran down my legs. Auntie Suzanne had already realised my predicament before the puddle formed around my feet.

“Don’t worry, accidents happen, and no one other than us will notice”, she whispered comfortingly. But I was horrified and could feel my wet thighs rubbing on one another, and both my knickers and my socks quickly felt cold and wet, as we walked the rest of the way home. I couldn’t even voice my apology or humiliation, but felt that the whole world must have noticed this red-faced schoolgirl who had wet her knickers. We got home and went straight into the bathroom where my wet shoes, socks and knickers were removed before I was sat on the toilet, where even more wee came out.

“Ann, you will have to be able to ask one of the teachers or another staff member to help you as it will not do your bladder any good letting this happen.” chided Mary’s mommy. I just grunted and looked down in humiliation not able to say anything in reply, as I knew I didn’t have the courage to ask a teacher. The bath was run, and the rest of my clothing was removed from me. I was shivering, but from humiliation and not the cold. Auntie Suzanne could see I was upset, and tried to comfort me while she washed me. To try to avert attention from my predicament, I chose that moment to admit that one of my wrists was especially sore and swollen. This had the desired effect to change the immediate topic, but it caused much bigger issues in the long run. Auntie Suzanne immediately peeled back the bandages to reveal quite a bit of swelling on both my skinny wrists. She was very shocked and I was whisked out of the bath quickly, I was still just wrapped up in towels as Auntie Suzanne was on the phone to her friendly doctor. Both Mary and I were silent due to the clear concerned tone we listened too. Shortly, she came back into the bathroom, and said,

“Come on, I have got to get you quickly dressed and we are going to the doctor’s surgery, so she can have a look at your wrists. I knew we should have done this immediately we got you home from hospital.” Auntie Suzanne seemed cross, but it was the concern in her voice that gave that impression. I was quickly redressed, and we were soon speeding to the doctor’s surgery. I had never seen her drive so quickly or get cross with any other driver who got in her way, or didn’t move out of her way quick enough. Mary and I both stayed silent, but I kept trying to smile at her, to calm her nerves, even if the butterflies in my own tummy were doing aerobatics by now. We rushed from the car straight into the doctors office, who explained that she had actually just come from home, but was always happy to see our little family. She quickly greeted both Mary and her mother before turning her attention to me.

“Now young lady, Suzanne has told me that you are having some problems with your wrists, so let’s have a quick look at them, and while I do that I want you to tell me exactly how they feel.” The lady doctor announced, beginning to unpick the bandages on the one wrist. She didn’t even get halfway to the wrist before she stopped, and quickly began to unwrap the other wrist. Her demeanour immediately changed, from the light hearted, friendly enquiries to something much more serious. Her face suddenly seemed to gain more wrinkles. “I don’t like the look of this, not at all” she said. She immediately began to talk to Auntie Suzanne, well it might have been me too…but I did my usual thing when in situations like this, I withdrew into myself, and no longer really processed words coming in. It is a habit I still have to this day, and I literally don’t hear the bad news; I put barriers up and it doesn’t reach me in the hope that it won’t effect me. Generally it has about the same effect as Mary hiding, by closing her eyes, assuming that if she couldn’t see us, then we couldn’t see her. All I knew is that it had gone quiet, and both the doctor and Auntie Suzanne were looking at me, expecting a reply. The doctor still had gentle hold of my wrists, and Auntie Suzanne had moved to put a protective arm around my shoulders, so I knew this wasn’t good. I just looked back at them both completely mute, with rivers of tears beginning their journey down my face. I wasn’t going to break down in front of Mary again, but I had no control over the rivers…I just let them run, but stayed silent, shaking my head.

“Darling, sweetheart, it will be OK. Dr Henning will send you to the very best specialist and we will just do whatever they suggest to make sure you get better. I know how afraid you are of hospitals, but you need to be brave for just a bit longer. Maybe they just need to do some more X-rays and you won’t even have to stay there too long? You will have to be my little warrior again, for a bit longer, I am afraid.”

The bit longer turned into over a week. We went to another hospital where lots more X-rays were taken. The specialist looked at them and pronounced that the first hospital had done a dreadful job of fixing my wrists and to ensure I would retain full mobility of both he would have to re-operate, and basically break both wrists again, and put new plates and screws in. I don’t know how much of this I took in at the time, much of these facts were gained later. Obviously my diaries were all blank at this time, as I could not even hold a pen, and I have few memories at all of this time, but I think I just completely withdrew into myself. It has been a defense strategy that I have had to use a few times in my life. I stop feeling, and just allow myself to be a piece of meat. I don’t converse, or respond to anyone, but just shrink back into myself. Simple instructions might be followed, but not always. I do feel especially guilty towards Auntie Suzanne, as it must have been dreadful for her to try to communicate with me at this time, but my shutters were up. At least I wasn’t bawling in front of Mary, but I don’t know what she made of me during that time. The operation was repeated, but this time, at least I was put into a room on my own, rather than having to be in a ward with other patients. My wrists and hands were held in large plastic frames and then the whole lot covered in bandages. Like before I had tubes going into my arms, but differently no tubes going out of me this time.
 

kerry

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Another impressive chapter, Ann. I'm glad that you felt comfortable enough to continue writing. :)
 

babyann

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Another impressive chapter, Ann. I'm glad that you felt comfortable enough to continue writing. :)
Thank you Kerry, actually I have already written most of these, but as they are written from my diaries they are in basic Ann 1.0 (and you remember how unreadable they are!!), so it is really just a case of editing them and formatting them properly, to get them to Ann 3.5, with the Kerry 7.9 add-on! It has been so scary here in South Africa recently, with all the riots, but at least that caused my Mommy to make the decision that I need to get out of Jo’burg now. Also Thandie arrived and just having someone else about does make life a bit easier. She was exhausted when she arrived as she hadn’t slept in ages, because the protesting was so bad, and she was so scared. But she has already said that she will do all the shopping for us both as (and this is awful for me to admit) because she has black skin, she is safer than me outside. Also she can run really quickly, but I can only do a stupid shuffle. But just having her here has changed my mood, and knowing I am going to escape to Cape Town has lifted me again, so I can do this again.
 

babyann

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Chapter 13: Back home again

The one positive element of this period was how they had decided to dress me after this operation. Rather than a catheter going directly from my bladder into a bag, I found that I was in nappies. Under my nightie, they had put a huge diaper on me. The feeling it gave me is so difficult to explain, especially now, as I wear one all the time, and it would just feel odd to be not wearing one now. It was huge and bulky, and made a lot of noise (to my ears) whenever I moved. But it made me feel warm and safe inside. Because I felt like I had withdrawn deep into myself, this nappy was just another barrier for me, but this barrier was real, and warm and soft, and secure. I felt protected, and therefore comfortable. I could just be like a baby and lie in bed and nothing was expected of me. My nappy would be changed regularly, although often I was in a drug induced sleep when this happened, but then when I was given a bed bath, I would move from an exposed, humiliating, vulnerable state, while I was naked, being cleaned by two nurses, to being safe, secure, protected, covered by this soft yet noisy barrier. I hope people here, at least, can understand my simple emotions at the time. I didn’t really regress or become a baby, but I certainly stopped being an adult human being. I actually stopped being a human being. I was a piece of meat to be poked and pushed and turned, and wiped. I never rang the bell once during that period, even though I was told how to call for help. I would wee in my nappy, as that was much less embarrassing and less painful than having to call someone to help me. The nurses had to try to feed me, but I was worse than Mary when she was in one of her ‘moods’. I just would shake my head and keep my mouth closed after chewing a couple of mouthfuls down. In my mind, I was so broken that Suzanne would not want me to go home with her and Mary. Which would mean that I would be sent home to live with my biological mother again. Life would be unbearable. I was desolate, and could not see the point in living. I just retreated into a sad, dark place for several days. Not for the first time, and sadly as it turned out, not for the last time, I actively wished I would die.

I do remember Auntie Suzanne at my bedside at one time, trying to get me to hold a conversation with her. But getting little more than grunts in reply. I wasn’t blaming her at all as I ‘knew’ all this was my fault. I was the poison. I had been allowed a glimpse of a happy life, but now this was being removed from me. I ‘knew’ Suzanne was just trying to work out how to tell me that I was no longer needed or wanted in her house. But what she actually said broke down a barrier.

“Mary is so sad at home without you, and we both can’t wait to get you home again, where you belong…”. She quietly told me. I turned my head looking at her, not quite being able to process the words that were breaking through my guard.

“You don’t want me or need me like this,” I responded, despondently raising my bandaged arms. “I am useless, and maybe my wrists will never get better, or…”

“Stop this Ann!” cried Suzanne. “You are going to get better, I promise, and Mary and I love you and we both miss you so much. The house is horrible and silent without your presence. Mary will not laugh or even smile when you are not with us, and it is breaking my heart to see both my little girls so upset and so unhappy.” She climbed onto the bed, and half sat and half lay next to me trying to work out how to get passed all the tubes, and bandaged arms. She ended up resting her head on my diapered middle, as she was clearly scared about hurting me. My hope that she wouldn’t notice that I was wearing a huge diaper was quashed, when she joked “ooo, it is so nice they have thought to provide me with an extra pillow down here” she smilled, as she looked up at me between my bandaged arms her head on the duvet, but pressed into my diaper beneath. For the first time, I noticed that she had the same eyes as her daughter, Mary, and my own heart tripped a beat as she looked up at me. I knew I didn’t deserve this love and affection, but (as would be a problem for me later) I was so desperate, that I was willing to take whatever glimmer of it that I could. But that was the moment when I began to plan my escape all over again.

I don’t remember pleading out loud to come home. But inside I was screaming it from the moment we had left home for the doctor to look at me. But Auntie Suzanne knew, and suddenly I found myself back in her car, still dressed only in nightie, diapers, and lots of bandages on both arms, heading home for safety. I was put straight into bed, with strict orders to do nothing, other than to shout for help if I needed anything. My bedroom door was left open, but I think I just slept and slept this time when I first got home. Being under general anesthetic and having been through two lengthy operations, back to back, meant that I had been knocked a long way back. i found out later, from Suzanne that the second operation took over six hours, as she would call the hospital every half an hour. Everything was a bit of a blur, and I have no notes to work from. But slowly I managed to climb out of my shell, and begin to pay an interest with what was going on around me. I remained in bed for several days, with Auntie Suzanne coming in to feed me little amounts of simple food like soup and sandwiches. A weighted cup with a long, long straw was positioned on my bedside table. Mary was often propped up next to me in my bed as I was fed different meals. And the doctor came out several times to check on “the little warrior”. In the evenings Suzanne would come and lay with me in my bed, talking to me and feeding me from the bottle. She would even feed my formula in those days, in an effort to put some flesh on my bones. My own body began to match Mary’s little body; it had become fragile and skinny. Like her, you could count all my ribs. Surrounded by love and affection I was able to climb out, and soon was walking around the house a bit like a zombie with my hands held outstretched in front of me in their strange frames. Auntie Suzanne did also start reading some of my school books to me too, as we were only weeks away from the dreaded final exams too.

I don’t actually remember any detailed discussions around the nappies, but I do remember at one point Auntie Suzanne stopped putting them on me, and we went back to the former solution where I had to ask her to assist me to the toilet each time I needed to go. Then one night, I woke up needing a wee, and had to get out of bed and wake Auntie Suzanne up to help me onto the toilet, and wipe me after using it. She had jumped with a start, even though I had approached her bed quietly, which scared us both. The next night as she was putting my nightie on, it was just suggested that it might be easier for all of us if I was to wear a nappy again. Of course, I immediately agreed, as I was becoming if not addicted to the feelings they gave me, but I was certainly enjoying the secure feeling that they gave me. Auntie Suzanne admitted later that she noticed how quickly and willingly I allowed myself to be put back into diapers. Soon, I was back to wearing them in daytime too, as it was just easier to wee a bit in my nappy, and let Auntie Suzanne change me and Mary at the same time, rather than me having to disturb her each time I needed to go. It actually felt more natural to me to be in a nappy. I felt somehow exposed when I was just wearing panties under my dress, as I had no real use of either hand, but having a bulky nappy around me, made me feel safe. I loved sitting with Mary either on the floor or together on the sofa. There would be the same tell-tale crinkle as we were positioned by Suzanne. Suzanne would also do this cute ‘butt tap’ to us both all the time. So as she carried Mary, she would sub-consciously tap her butt. Then (as I moved around so slowly, in my zombie walk) she would tap my butt too. The same as we were about to be sat down for food, or once we finished. The best one was straight after we had been diapered; Suzanne had the same technique for us both. She would lay the fresh nappy underneath us, powder us (and add some diaper cream if it looked like either of us were developing any sort of rash). Then the front would be firmly pulled up and the tapes attached neatly. Then she would spend some time sliding her fingers around the waist and each leg, to ensure it was not too tight, but enough to ensure a watertight seal. Then, before pulling us upright she would give our diaper a couple of taps, whilst smiling up at our faces. I don’t have the words to describe that special feeling. Those love taps would go right through my body. I think this is why when I hear or read of other people being put into diapers as some form of punishment, it means nothing to me. Diapers to me could never be a punishment, but rather a reward, something to be earned, or even as a symbol of love and affection. That is what I felt then, when Suzanne diapered me, and I feel the same now, when Mommy diapers me. It is a feeling of bliss, of shared love and affection. When being diapered, I am offering myself in a completely vulnerable, open, naked position. Then a person gently, but firmly takes control. Lovingly clean and powder my most private areas as they choose, then firmly secures me, safe, warm and dry with a garment that protects not just from my fluids going out, but anything coming in. I hope people here can understand what I mean.
 

kerry

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This is a very sweet chapter. Reading it gives me a warm feeling, even though I know that the other shoe will be dropping soon.

I hope you can make the move to Capetown without any trouble and that COVID.
 

RainbowConnection

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Another beautifully written chapter, Ann. Please be safe in your travels; I wish you well, kind person.
 

Jayme

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BabyAnn, you have a beautiful written voice. I can truly relate and understand how you feel about diapers being a shield and protector. Your story is touching and parts make me want to rage about how you were treated by others. I often find myself asking why we as a human race can be so horrible to each other, and often seeing the answer is because they can. I know it makes no sense as to why but it is the truth. Victims are treated like they are the problem and sometimes are told if they weren't there it wouldn't have happened.

Enough of the heavy stuff, I'm loving your story and hoping it helps you become happy!
 
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babyann

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This is a very sweet chapter. Reading it gives me a warm feeling, even though I know that the other shoe will be dropping soon.

I hope you can make the move to Capetown without any trouble and that COVID.
Thank you Kerry. I know this horrible Covid is affecting us all, right around the planet. I am so happy that this is giving you a warm feeling, really really happy, because it means I have managed to share that same warm feeling that Suzanne and Mary gave me all those years ago. Until I wrote this no one but me knew that, and I wouldn’t even acknowledge that, because I blocked it out because of what happened later. But I wanted to let other people know about these two angels, and what they mean to me. I know from what I have said, people reading this now are aware that this doesn’t last…that we didn’t all live happily thereafter. But…and this really seems too obvious now, but we, or at least 2 out of 3 of us didn’t know this would not continue for ever…. Just me, with my absolute conviction that I would poison everything good, ‘knew’ different. Some nights after a particularly happy day (and there were so many of those) I would lie awake in terror not knowing how I would wreck everything. I was (am?) really messed up, even then I realise. But I am really delighted that I have managed to share that lovely warm feeling, especially to you, my dear, kind, patient, teacher. I know I will never be one of your brightest pupils, but I am so proud to have received such a positive response for my efforts!
 

babyann

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Another beautifully written chapter, Ann. Please be safe in your travels; I wish you well, kind person.
What a lovely comment. Really, I feel so empowered by the friendly people here. I don’t know yet when I am going to travel. Hopefully really soon. Thandie and I were sitting out on my balcony as she wanted a smoke, but the noises coming from not very far away were so terrifying, that we couldn’t stay there. We literally camp on the floor in the living room with all the lights off looking at my iPad screen. Thandie is sweet in that she knows all about little me and accepts that, but she doesn’t want to be involved. So she will happily make me a bottle, when she makes herself a coffee or tea, but there is no way she would ever volunteer to change me. But I don’t have to hide. She will say certain outfits are cute, and she even helps hanging all the nappies on the line. Same with me; I dont mind her smoking tobacco or dagga on my balcony but not inside the flat.
 

babyann

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BabyAnn, you have a beautiful written voice. I can truly relate and understand how you feel about diapers being a shield and protector. Your story is touching and parts make me want to rage about how you were treated by others. I often find myself asking why we as a human race can be so horrible to each other, and often seeing the answer is because they can. I know it makes no sense as to why but it is the truth. Victims are treated like they are the problem and sometimes are told if they weren't there it wouldn't have happened.

Enough of the heavy stuff, I'm loving your story and hoping it helps you become happy!
Another really touching comment; thank you. I am pleased that there are other people here who feel the security & protection that a diaper gives me. Not (just) in the protection of leaking out, but protected from anything from outside getting in. I could easily follow you down the rabbit hole of heavy stuff, but no one listens to the quiet voices of reason.
 

babyann

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Chapter 14: Final Exams

Slowly I got my strength back and it was agreed that I should try to attend school for the final two weeks leading up to the final exams, and then also I would be more used to travelling when I actually had to sit the exams. But I was concerned about the accident that I had had the last time I attended school. But Auntie Suzanne had preempted my concerns.

“Pull-ups!” she announced “they are sort of like nappies, but you wear them like normal panties, and they are not so bulky, so I am sure you can wear them under your school knickers and no one will be able to tell.” Of course, as with everything else, Auntie Suzanne was completely correct. The pull-ups were slid up my legs into position, and then my school knickers (which we all called granny knickers, as they were huge and green) were pulled up over the top, and it was impossible to tell. This gave me much more confidence at school, although I still could not actually write, and final exams were just around the corner.

No one other than Suzanne, Mary or me knew from the outside what I was wearing, of course I knew, and I felt a a similar level of confidence wearing them as when I would wear ‘proper’ nappies, although we did find some shortcomings when compared to ‘proper’ diapers. Thinking they would be easier all around, Suzanne put me in them overnight, but I did have a little leak, as I always sleep on my side. Plus, it was a horrible feeling if they were wet to take them down your legs; it was much later I found out that the idea was to rip the sides to take them off. Also, from a purely selfish point of view, I found I really enjoyed the ‘ritual’ involved when someone puts me in a nappy. With a pull-up, even if someone is assisting, it is no different to putting on normal panties. I can’t really explain or understand why I really enjoy someone putting me in a nappy, as I am intensely shy, shy to a paralysing extent. But lying naked from the waist down, while someone else has complete access and control to all my private areas, being wiped in all the most intimate places, having cream applied, often directly to my vagina, as often any rash would start on the sensitive skin there first. Then the feeling of exposure is replaced by almost the opposite feeling of protection, and covering with a thick, but soft, barrier. So the pull-ups served a purpose, but I preferred proper nappies to wear, a situation which is still true to this day.

Auntie Suzanne, Mary and I went to see the school principal after school one day, before I started attending school again. Auntie Suzanne had made the appointment, and took complete control of the meeting. I loved watching someone I loved bossing this horrible woman about, entirely dominating her, and not asking, but telling her, what needed to happen for me. Auntie Suzanne had already decided that the doctor would try taking my one hand out of the frame, to enable me to write, but if that was too painful for me, or even became too much for me during the course of any of the exams, then I must be allowed to continue my exam in another room on my own, where I would be able to dictate my answers to the school secretary, or someone similar. Also, the principal had to request extra time for me for all of my exams, especially the ones that had a lot of writing connected to them. The school headmistress could only agree to every single one of the demands, she had clearly never met such a force of nature as Auntie Suzanne, especially when Auntie was talking about the well-being of one of ‘her girls’!

So that was decided, and in the end, the doctor would come to our house early in the morning before each exam, and then I would be taken straight to her surgery after the exam had finished. My wrist was very carefully inspected for any additional swelling, and I had to report any additional pains to her before it was carefully re-bandaged into the frame until the next exam day. I did write them all myself, and was allowed additional time for most of the papers. It was really uncomfortable to write, but I managed to develop a technique which mostly kept my wrist flat on the paper. Certainly my own self-esteem blossomed at this time as even the teachers commented in admiration at my determination to write the exams, even though I was clearly in pain. Then both the doctor and Auntie Suzanne would gush with their praise and affection for me, filling me with confidence to pass all my exams. Once home, I would be changed out of my school uniform and pull-ups and into my own clothing and nappies. I would do my zombie walking around the house, and then Mommy would quiz me on questions from my schoolbooks whenever she could, when she was feeding Mary and me. And then in the evening we would sit cuddled together with her quizzing me or reading and explaining different sections of different topics to me.

In a flash the exams were over, and Auntie Suzanne and Mary collected me from the school for the very last time. As we were driving to the doctor’s I was told I would never have to step inside that school again if I didn’t want to, and I would never have to wear a school uniform again! The doctor also was full of praise for me as she closely inspected my wrists and only wrapped them back up again once she was completely comfortable with what she saw. She told me that I had shown more courage than some of the big hulking rugby players that she sometimes saw. From then on, as she knew I didn’t like coming into medical surgeries, she would come to our house to keep a close check on my recovery. She also explained that she wanted to closely monitor my weight and diet, as there was a chance that my bones had broken because of my poor childhood diet, that they were weakened.
 

babyann

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Chapter 15: Mary

The doctor also wanted to check on Mary’s progress; I was really only beginning to learn of Mary’s myriad of problems. She had been born with multiple disabilities, and these caused many developmental issues. Later, I was also informed that Auntie Suzanne had been warned shortly after the birth that her baby may not even reach a year old, and to take each year from there as a bonus. Certainly she was not expected to make it to adulthood. Outwardly, she displayed few problems, although she had a form of muscular atrophy which meant she became weaker over time. She struggled to stand and was unable to walk, and needed support to be able to sit up straight. She also had a problem with drooling a lot, but we “solved” that with cute little towelling neckerchiefs which we just changed regularly. I always saw a happy, determined little character, who while she could not express too much using her voice, she had the most expressive eyes of anyone I have ever known. She could express more in a short look than most people would have been able to describe in a week. She was gentle, and very loving, always happy to share anything. She was just as inquisitive as any other child. I still love her very much.

Really my own issues should have paled into insignificance alongside Mary’s and it spoke volumes that Auntie Suzanne looked after the pair of us through this time, rather than sending me back to live with my mother, and concentrating her resources on Mary. But she told me that she loved her two little girls, and by that stage had already decided that it would have broken her heart and Mary’s heart if we had to be separated any longer. What I didn’t know at that time is that Mary had been inconsolable while I had been in hospital for both operations and it had been impossible to get any food into her at all. But as soon as I came home she just started eating again. Mary, like me had a very slight frame, and she had much less flesh than even me, so even going a day without food was a problem for her let alone a week without food. Without my knowledge, if I had been delayed being released from hospital the second time, Mary would have had to been admitted herself, and put on drips in order to get enough essential nutrients to her internal organs.

So we got used to the doctor calling regularly at different times to check on us both. Auntie Suzanne and the doctor really seemed to get along well with one another, but I also think that the doctor could see that Auntie Suzanne had her work set out for her basically looking after 2 disabled kids at one time. Mary and I were inspected, weighed, and thoroughly loved through and through! Auntie Suzanne would dress us the same, and do our hair the same, which we both loved. Mary and I were devoted to one another, and that time and the issues we were each dealing with meant that our lives were becoming intertwined. At one stage I think I even brought up the problem of the doctor seeing that I was still wearing nappies all the time, but Suzanne had told me not to worry at all, and she had discussed all of the different issues with the doctor, and it had actually been the doctor who had encouraged Auntie Suzanne to baby me a bit, given everything that I had been through. The fact that I had not ever complained about wearing diapers, or pull-ups or drinking from sippy cups and bottles. Suzanne said it was nice seeing me being allowed to be a sweet little girl, in the knowledge that I had never properly experienced anything like that. It was obvious a huge thing to Mary, that she had a companion, and an equal. In fact, exactly the same was true for me. I got to experience what It was like to be loved, to have two other human beings who were concerned for me. Being treated the same as Mary also aided my recovery; I had to eat all my food, together we had to regularly rest, to recover. We were both unable to do lots of things for ourselves, and we both had to rely on Suzanne for our basic needs, to dress us, to clean us, to feed us. I had grown up to be ashamed of my own body, not only because it was deformed, and covered in scars, but I didn’t develop like other girls of a similar age; I had no boobies and no curves to my hips. In changing rooms at school, I soon learned to hide away in corners, so other girls could not see me and deride me for how I looked. Many of the girls there appeared to enjoy showing off their ever expanding breasts to the other girls, or their shapely buttocks. I was certainly envious of them. But suddenly, I felt no inhibitions being naked in front of Suzanne or Mary, even though Suzanne had the most incredible figure of any female I had seen at that stage. Suzanne would wash all my body, including ‘front bottom’ and ‘back bottom’ as we called them. I would lie on the floor or on my bed completely naked, completely exposed as she would check all over for any signs of a rash or anywhere that looked a bit sore. Yes, I had fantasies about Suzanne, but in my fantasies, in my warped mind, these were to happen in the evenings, in our grown up time.

As I mentioned, my mornings were started with Mary being carefully put into the bed next to me, and we would cuddle and talk nonsense with each other until Auntie Suzanne came back, where we would hide under the sheet, giggling together. The game was that Mary’s Mommy would try to work out which one was which under the sheet. She always got it wrong which always caused huge peals and shrieks of laughter from Mary. Then we were asked which one of us wanted to be dressed first, which often caused the sheet to be pulled over to more laughter. Eventually one of us was chosen and we would have our nappy changed and dressed, before the other one was collected and dressed as similar as possible. Then Mary was carried through to the breakfast bar, and I would follow doing my ‘zombie walk’. We each had our own bowls of fruit and muesli and yoghurt to finish off (each amount carefully weighed). Neither of us could leave until every single bowl was completely finished. Then we were each given our pills, and we each had a lot of pills and tablets to get through. Once they had all be dispatched, Mommy would put us both on the sofa, and I would try to read a book to Mary. Either Mary had to turn the pages for me, or I would attempt to do so with my zombie hands. This gave Auntie Suzanne chance to clean and tidy the house, as well as setting the washing machine off. Sometimes we would have to go shopping in which case I was put in pull ups to save my blushes, but often, as I seemed to have very little energy, Mary and I were left in the car to chat & sing. I would make up silly stories about all the different people pulling in and parking in the car park. Or we would ‘talk’ for hours in our own special made-up language of nonsense - blabber blabb. So many times, Suzanne would come back to us both in fits of giggles, but if she asked either of us what we were laughing at, one of us would respond with “blabber baaab bab blabber,’ which would set us off giggling all over again. Suzanne would roll her eyes at us both, but often join in the giggling. In fact, that little car was always the happiest car in the world. On our trips, rather than exhaust noise, all the sound people would hear was laughter, but the nicest laughter of three people who had real, unconditional love for one another. We were never laughing at one another but always, always with each other. This was so far removed from my previous childhood, where all too often I was the target of the laughter. As I got stronger, then Auntie Suzanne would take us all out, on little trips, and she loved buying clothing for us both, always trying to find matching outfits. One particular success, I only found out about a bit later.

Our biggest problem was when Mary had to go into the hospital for one of her regular visits there. I think more detailed checks were done, including blood tests, as well as a certain amount of physiotherapy. On one day, we were told that we needed to be going out, so I was dressed in pull-ups under my dress, while Mary was in her usual nappies. I can’t remember when we were told that we were having to go to the hospital. It might have been before we even started driving there, or it could have been when we were already on the way. But even though our destination was mentioned almost as an aside, my heart immediately sank. Auntie Suzanne was doing her usual keeping a close eye on us in the back, and she must have caught my terrified expression.

“Please don’t look like that Ann, there is nothing at all to be afraid of. Today it is Mary’s turn to perform for the nurses, and we don’t want to put her off do we?” I well knew that the real meaning behind that was that I was not to get Mary scared too of going to the hospital. I tried to smile, but I didn’t know how I would be able to walk inside the hospital, even knowing that I would be safe this time. We pulled into the hospital car park and I swear I could already smell the disinfectant, and I began to feel nauseous. Mary’s stroller was retrieved from the boot of the car, and Mary was lifted out into the car, before Auntie Suzanne leant in, and looking imploringly into my eyes, she asked, “are you coming with us?” I began to shake my head, and it was the only time I ever saw even the slightest temper from her, “no? Fine, well you just wait there until we are completely finished,” and she stepped back slamming the door closed.

“No!” I wailed, knowing I was letting her and Mary down, “I am coming!”. As the fear of letting them both down was actually stronger than my fear of the hospital.

Auntie Suzanne immediately opened the door and gave me a huge kiss, quietly saying, “thank you, Ann, I know this is tricky for you” as she unbuckled my seatbelt and helped me out. I still could not push the stroller so I walked ahead with my zombie hands, so neither of them could actually see my expression of terror.

Most of the day was just usual hospital boredom, where Mary was taken from one waiting room to another, and then taken inside for some tests or something to be performed on her. I managed to get my own fear and physical shaking under control, but even the smell of the disinfectant seemed to attack my nose. I wanted to be anywhere else but in that place, but I felt a responsibility an odd feeling of support for another human being, which was foreign to me, for all my life that far, it had been me against the world. Now I was connected to another human being. A very selfish part of me was thankful that it was Mary that they were interested in and not me. But as the day progressed, I could see all the tests and procedures were having an effect on her and she was tiring badly, and becoming fractious. Towards the end of the day they were trying to make her stand in a frame, but clearly she was far too tired now, and she was crying and sobbing while the sour faced nurses were grimly making scores on their sheets of paper.

Something inside me snapped, and to everyone’s shock, including Suzanne and Mary, I stood up, shouting “no! That is not fair!”, I then zombie stomped across the room to where the nurses were in a circle around Mary trying to stand in a frame. I was so livid with the unfair way they were treating Mary.

”Mary can stand easily, but you have made her too tired, and none of you are giving her any encouragement, as you are more interested in taking notes, and writing on your pieces of paper”. Before anyone could stop me I dropped to my knees in front of the sobbing, crumpled form of Mary. “Mary, I love you” I quietly said to her, her large wet eyes focusing on me, “Mary, I know, and your Mommy knows, you can stand, because we know you are wonderful. Come on, show these horrible nurses how clever you really are.” Mary kept looking at me, and I tried to transfer some strength, resolve and even some of my anger to her. “Come on sweetheart…I love you so much”. With that Mary slowly, shakily stood up gripping tightly to the frame, she kept focusing on my face and my continued encouragement as she determinedly stood up, and she caused both me an Suzanne to shriek in laughter and victory as Mary even stamped one of her feet, which we knew she would do when really determined. Suzanne rushed over and carefully collected Mary, before we all sat together in a big family hug, and Suzanne announced that she was so proud of her two brave warriors. I did sort of get a telling off later, as I should not have called the nurses ‘horrible’, but the telling off was done with a huge grin across her face.

Of course, I was never told the outcomes of all these tests, but looking back it can’t have all been great news. Mary had even more pills to take, and she had to start a course of injections initially at the doctors surgery. But first it was my turn to return to the hospital for the specialists to check their work, and to hopefully finally have the bandages and plastic frames removed. Fortunately, for me, the frames could be removed, along with the heavy bandages and splints, but lighter bandages had to remain, and I was given a whole set of exercises that I had to do. I would sit having to rotate my hands one way and and then the other. Mary thought this was a great game and she would mimic my movements to lots of gurgles and laughter. But this mimicking would soon be repaid. Auntie Suzanne packed us both into the car for yet another trip to the doctor’s surgery. We were all treated together, and the nice doctor would check my wrists, and then look at Mary, then Mary would be weighed and then it was my turn. Everything was done with smiles and jokes and laughter…until the doctor began to prepare the syringe for Mary’s injection. Immediately Mary saw it, and began to cry and create, on her Mommy’s lap, saying she didn’t want to have the jab. Both her mother and the doctor tried to calm her down, but it was evident that Mary was working herself up into a meltdown.

Suddenly, it hit me, and I just announced, “But this isn’t fair!”

Auntie Suzanne quickly looked at me, “Ann, this isn’t helping, at all, this time”

“No, not like that, I mean…well, everything else we have shared. I get checked and Mary gets checked, I get weighed and then Mary gets weighed, so surely if Mary gets an injection, then I must get an injection?” I explained. The doctor and Suzanne looked at me and then one another. Mary had even gone quiet.

“But you don’t need an injection,” explained the doctor.

“I don’t care…if Mary is getting an injection then I should have one too! In fact you can give us a jab together, can’t she, Mary”. Mary began to smile, realizing I was on her side. Finally the two adults in the room also understood what I was suggesting.

“You are a star, Ann! And, of course you are absolutely right, isn’t she Mary”. Right, now how shall be do this, I don’t think I could cope with two wriggling bodies across my lap, Doc, where do you want these two wonderful bundles of trouble?”

“Right, well let’s get you both back onto the examination table shall we.” As we were both lifted back onto the table where each of us had previously examined. “Now I need you both lying down on your sides”. We were both gently laid facing one another and I wrapped my still bandaged arms around Mary, and we began doing our silly language that we sometimes did to one another.

“Blaaaabb blab blabber” “blab blabber blaaabb” came the reply, as we looked intently into one another’s eyes.

“Right who is going first?” The doc asked,

“Me!” I responded quickly going back to our conversation. I felt the hem of my dress lifted up, and then a pause, and then a small, gentle tap on my bottom.

“There you go!” Then they moved to Mary and I kept the silly talking going. Mary’s eyes widened and then she blinked rapidly, but didn’t cry at all and kept replying to me in our silly language.

The next thing we knew was Auntie Suzanne’s head appearing above us both, her smile beaming at us both, “I am so, so proud of my two little warriors.” As we were each awarded a kiss on our cheeks while Mary and I kept hugging.

As we left, the doctor quietly said to me, “well done, young lady, they are both very lucky to have you”. I was glowing with such praise, as I followed the other two out of the surgery. Suzanne could sense my mood as she helped fasten my seatbelt after she had put Mary in her seat. “Thank you, my angel” she said planting another kiss on my forehead.

The car was then filled with its usual nonsense, giggles, silly languages and triumphant shouts of

“Joooose!”

“Biscuits”
 

babyann

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These chapters are getting progressively more difficult, and there may be some delays coming…but there will only be a few more to go to test your boredom levels.

Chapter 16: Mary’s Birthday

Then it was Mary’s birthday, which I managed to spoil. I am sure that every one of Mary’s birthdays were celebrated with more fervour than most kids, and turning 6 was no different. Suzanne told me off for wasting too much of my money, but throughout all this time she had been regularly paying me, even when I was in hospital. I remember I had remonstrated with her once I had discovered all the money in my bank account. I said that she was already too generous with me, but then paying my hospital bills (the second hospital was all private so would have cost a fortune) and also paying me was too much. She had smiled and explained that she wasn’t paying me but actually Mary’s father was covering the cost of Mary’s carer and she had decided that I was the best thing that the ‘bastard’ had ever paid for!

But I also could not think of anything, or anyone, better to spend my money on, so I had bought teddy bears and paints and paintbrushes, and colouring books, and crayons, and even some cute socks that she had squealed at in a shop when we had been shopping. They were so cute with like a multi-coloured frill to the top of them.

Some people had been invited for a quiet afternoon party, and I had spent a few nights cutting out shapes and letters from coloured paper, and then the night before Suzanne and I were blowing up balloons and making little snacks and things. Many fiddly things were still a challenge to me, with both bandages covering both wrists from hands back to almost my elbows. I also was not letting on, but I was still experiencing quite a lot of pain, but I was too scared to even ask for simple painkillers. My arms were quite weak still, but my wrists have never quite been the same since.

Mary was an absolute joy to give presents to, as she would not hold back on her excitement. So Suzanne and I had decided that we should spread our presents out through the day. Between Suzanne and me, we still had a number of chores to finish too. I had also been warned that Mary’s father would probably turn up too, and I was very intrigued to see who was actually paying me.

We started off by both Suzanne and I singing happy birthday to Mary in her bedroom, first thing in the morning. The first presents were opened as soon as we had both cleaned our breakfast bowls. Mary would squeal and clap her hands in joy and soon small pieces of wrapping paper were sent in all directions. Every half an hour or so we would stop for yet more presents, and associated squeals of joy. The special cake was delivered. Suzanne had saved some surprises for me too. After an early lunch I was tasked to trying to bathe Mary, so her mother could dress her in her new birthday outfit. I went outside to hang the ‘Happy Birthday Mary’ banner which I had made, along with balloons and ribbons on the gate, the front door and trees in the garden. Auntie Suzanne called me in to see how Mary looked. She looked gorgeous! Her hair was in 2 bunches high on her head, but she also had a white Alice band, which seemed to glitter in the light. She had an adorable high waisted dress, with billowing sleeves. The short hem had a pink satin ribbon worked through it, and it was held out by a billowing petticoat, which looked like multicoloured clouds surrounding her legs, on her feet were the cute frilly socks that I had bought which matched the petticoat perfectly. Her feet were in some patent white shiny sandals.

“Mary!” I exclaimed, “you look so pretty, you are good enough to eat!” Mary squealed with absolute excitement.

Suzanne said, “well I hope you have a good appetite for once!” Together, with Mary completely unable to control herself, bouncing in her Mother’s arms, they took my hand and led me through into my own bedroom. There on the bed was a matching outfit. Completely matching, down to the socks. Suzanne explained that she had managed to smuggle another pair in after Mary had ‘convinced’ me to buy her own socks. But they matched the multi-coloured petticoat skirts so perfectly. The outfit even included some wonderful satin knickers, or actually diaper covers, as Suzanne explained. Mary even had to show me that she had exactly the same on under her own petticoats. I don’t think I had ever seen, never mind been able to wear, such pretty clothing. We even had matching shoes and Alice bands! Both Suzanne and Mary in their own ways helped me change, Mary helping by sitting on my bed, propped up by pillows screaming with joy. Her happiness was infectious, and we were both allowed to have a little bit of makeup carefully added. Then, with the time ticking away, Suzanne told us to wait for her to get ready while we had to keep clean in the living room. We were still playing when Suzanne walked in wearing a similar, but subtly different outfit. Hers was clearly an adult version of what we were wearing, but I could also see how it would have been totally inappropriate for me; the short white dress showed off Suzanne’s figure and curves, and she had fabulous patterned tights going into white high heels, which would have toppled me right over. But the look was very similar, and we really looked like we were a family, a unit. Like we all belonged to one another. Looking back, I also think that Suzanne was sending a message to Mary’s father; we looked (and felt) glamorous. We were a happy unit.

We didn’t have long to admire one another when the doorbell rang and the first of the party guests arrived. I didn’t know who Suzanne knew to invite, but it was clear that almost all of the families each had special needs children in their families, and Suzanne later informed me that they were all families and kids she had met through the hospital and associated support groups. Some of the children were clearly much more disabled compared to Mary, but there were also a few who appeared to have no disabilities whatsoever, as well as a couple of related siblings.

An older, quite severe looking, couple also arrived, although they didn’t stay long. I was introduced to them, and found out that they were Mary’s grand parents, Suzanne’s parents. Her father was what we call in South Africa, a ‘dominee’ or a church minister. But the other shocking thing for me was that they were Afrikaans speaking. Which meant that like me, Suzanne’s mother tongue was Afrikaans, but we actually only spoke English to one another. They both appeared quite unable to interact with Mary in any meaningful way. At one stage the father tried to put his huge hand on Mary’s head to give her a blessing, but Mary fearfully withdrew and hid into Suzanne as he tried this. He had a forbidding presence, and I was quite thankful that they did not stay long.

The party was going quite well, with the nice weather meaning we could be outside. Suzanne and I seemed to spend much of the time running inside and out with different food and drinks, or wipes to mop up spillages, or guiding different people inside to the toilet. Looking back, I was probably getting too tired again, and I still was a long way off recovered from my wrists and associated operations. I would tend to become withdrawn and self-conscious if my CP became more evident, but, for once, there was no chance for me to step back; I had important responsibilities on that day, as Mary’s ‘big sister’. Mary’s father had arrived, alone, with a huge parcel, and he and I had politely greeted one another before spending the rest of the party trying to size the other up with suspicious looks being constantly traded between us. But I was mostly arranging simple games for the different children to play, with most of the kids arranged on a rug, or in different strollers and support seats around me.

It was something like Simple Simon or similar, when I heard Mary scream inside. I knew that Suzanne had taken Mary inside, so she could open the large present from her father. Apparently the scream was really over nothing, but Mary had been placed on the sofa, propped up with cushions, while Suzanne went to get some scissors or the like from the kitchen, and Mary’s father had tried to pick her up. But to Mary, he was still a stranger, so she had understandably screamed. But obviously, I wasn’t to know that at that time. I recognised two things, that the scream was from Mary, and it was a genuine scream of terror. I didn’t know that Suzanne was only a couple of steps away, or that there was no need for Mary to be terrified. All I knew is that I needed to get there as quickly as I could. I can’t really run very well on a good day, on a good surface. Turning around and trying to run into the house, I got it all a bit wrong, and even now, I can remember falling down. I didn’t want to put my previously damaged arms out, for fear of damaging them again. So my head hit the concrete path first. My fall caused massive consternation from the guests and their kids, as they had also heard the scream and then saw me unsuccessfully launch myself towards the house. Apparently I lay, unmoving, for a while. I think I was possibly checking that nothing was broken (we later found out that the only broken bone was my nose). But I do remember one of the children looking down at me and screaming. I had a lump and a graze on my head, but the vast majority of the expanding pool of blood was streaming from my nose. Finally an adult came, and my bleeding nose was staunched with a tea towel. Suzanne appeared and was clearly upset with what she could see, and as I was trying to get to my hands and knees, Mary’s father was instructed to carefully pick me up and take me into the living room, where I was gently placed on the sofa. I was initially lying on my back, but the blood from my nose caused me to cough out obscene amounts of blood, over my new dress, the sofa, the carpet, everywhere.

Soon Suzanne appeared kneeling in front of me, brushing my hair, and inspecting the lump on my head. “Ann, we must take you into the hospital, as you have had a really nasty bump to the head, and you were knocked out for a while, so it could be really dangerous for you.”

My best day ever was turning into yet another nightmare, and it was clearly all my fault again.

“No, please, please don’t send me to the hospital, please Auntie Suzanne. I wasn’t knocked out, not completely, and my nose has nearly stopped bleeding” I pleaded through my blood filled tea towel.

Obviously, I would have looked much worse than I was trying to suggest, as a broken nose can produce massive amounts of blood. Ice and different cloths and towels were brought in together with a procession of anxious faces which peaked around the door, to look at the odd little disabled kid who had tried to re-arrange her face using a concrete pavement. I think my gory face and my attempt to make the 6 year old birthday party look like some dramatic crime scene caused an early exodus for the guests. But the next concerned face in front of me belonged to our doctor. Suzanne had called her after witnessing my reaction to the suggestion of a visit to the nearest accident and emergency ward. Kindly she had come out to make an assessment. She very gently checked me over thoroughly. She stopped all the bleeding, and dressed the wounds that she could. She even, very gently, aligned my nose, it still has a slight bend and a bump in it, but you have to look carefully to really see it. Suzanne was told that she needed to keep a close eye on me, and that I would likely soon have a wicked headache, but she also needed to keep me awake, and to watch for certain warnings. I was made to promise both of them that if it was decided I needed to go then I would not put up a fight.

Soon everyone had left, and Mary was left watching me closely while Suzanne loaded the dishwasher and cleaned up after the guests but she would constantly look in on us, standing in the doorway with such a serious look on her face. She would regularly come and ask me how I felt, if I was dizzy, if I had a headache and she would look carefully at my eyes. Of course I didn’t tell her the truth about feeling dizzy and having an extraordinary headache, but she knew I was lying, I am sure.

Very unusually, we had our meal on trays in the living room in front of the TV. Suzanne was quite strict about us sitting down together at a table to eat our meals, and was normally quite opposed to eating in front of the TV. The meal was a bit of a disaster, as I had no appetite, and so Mary decided to copy me and not eat any of hers, so I tried to trade a few mouthfuls, but moving my jaw made my headache worse, and I was beginning to feel quite nauseous. I was feeling very low, not just from the headache and nausea, but I had spoiled Mary’s special day, she looked so unhappy studying me with her large sad eyes. I cuddled her to me, as Suzanne gave up the struggle and cleared away the hardly touched food.

“I am so sorry, Mary, for spoiling your party” I whispered to her. This caused her to struggle out of the cuddle. She turned her whole body so she could look directly into my face, her hands going up to each side of my face. This was how she would make sure we knew what she was going to say was important. I often think that we all ought to do this, as it makes a strong statement that the other person must listen directly to this. It also lets you see any small messages in their eyes and face. Also Mary would express such emotions through her eyes and when they were only a few centimetres from your own face, you could read them. The other benefit of this way of holding the other persons face is that it blocks out any distractions, you are forced to listen, and to look. She willed up all her reserves to begin to share her emotions, “Sad Ann has ouch on head, not sad party” I began to try to disagree with her, but she just repeated in a louder, more forceful voice, squeezing my face to force her words into me “Sad Ann ouchie on head, not sad party!” I kissed her little face.

“Mary is right, Ann, you must not blame yourself. This was actually all caused by Mary’s father, who should have known better. You were merely coming to Mary’s rescue. It is not your fault, listen to Mary”. Suzanne reinforced her daughter’s sentiment. I knew they were both wrong, but I also knew that I would never be able to convince them. We all had a group hug, and chatted on the sofa for a while, discussing the party and our guests. We went through all the different presents that Mary had received, and which guest gave what present. Suzanne prepared a list so she could send a thank you letter to each person, and I suggested that Mary could paint some little pictures to go with the cards. This received unanimous support. Then it came to bath time, and I suggested that I would have a bath after Mary and then go to bed early myself.

“No, the doctor was quite insistent that you should not go to sleep early, but I need to keep you awake until your usual bedtime, and to keep checking you and especially your eyes and pupils all the time. Head injuries can be very serious, and the effects sometimes only happen several hours after the event. So you just sit there for the time being, while I bath the birthday girl, and tuck her up in bed.” explained Suzanne.

“OK, then I can come through and read her a story,” I suggested.

“You can be so stubborn at times, Ann! What part of ‘sit there’ didn’t you understand? Mary is quite worn out anyway, and I am sure will be fast asleep in no time at all. Here,” she said passing me the remote control for the TV, “just find something nice for us to watch later.”

I flicked through the channels, not finding anything that was particularly interesting. Suzanne bathed Mary, but kept checking that I was OK, finally she returned with a towel wrapped Mary in her arms.

“Happy birthday Mary” I said, but managed to swallow the apology that was about to tumble out after the birthday wishes, Suzanne bent over to offer me the damp head protruding from the towels. I could see Mary was almost asleep already as the excitement of the whole day caught up with her.

I sat back on the sofa, closing my own eyes as the same began to hit me, it seemed almost immediately that Suzanne was gently shaking me telling me to open my eyes. I tried to convince her that I wasn’t actually sleeping but merely closing my eyes and resting, but Suzanne wasn’t buying it.

“You stay awake now and find us a nice movie, while I’m going to go and make myself a well-earned Gin and Tonic and I shall make a bottle of formula for you so at least we get some goodness into your tummy”. I pulled a face as while I enjoyed being fed from the bottle, I don’t like the taste of formula “I know you don’t like the formula, but if you won’t eat your proper food, you leave me little choice.” said Suzanne.

I flicked through the channels but hadn’t managed to find anything, when she returned. In one hand she had what I viewed as the height of sophistication. A gin and tonic, together with a slice of lemon and ice cubes politely chinking against the glass. In the other hand she held the other end of that scale, a baby bottle with bright flowers on the outside and a rubber nipple on top. The brown liquid inside announced the yucky formula. Suzanne arranged the drinks on the side table and then arranged herself and then me into the corner of the sofa. Suzanne was always very deliberate in her movements and how she arranged everything to hand, so she ensured that the remote control was reachable, as well as the drinks. Cushions were moved and fluffed to provide support in the perfect places. She even arranged her own long limbs so I was trapped inside her embrace. I loved snuggling into her warmth, and I was instantly feeling better being so close to her.

We each sipped or sucked our drinks, and rather than watch TV, we talked, and talked and talked.

Suzanne knew I was still blaming myself for the way the party ended. She tried to convince me that it was the ‘bastard’s’ fault, and not mine. In fact she was in a way so proud and full of admiration for the way that I immediately responded, when I thought Mary was in trouble. But inside I knew it was my own poison.

Suzanne sipped her G & T, while holding the baby bottle to my own mouth. I was in heaven. She then began to play with my hair, running her fingers through. We both decided that using a brush might not be a great idea, pulling on the lump on my forehead.

But then I realised just what a mess I had made of my beautiful new dress; there was lots of blood all over it, as my coughing had actually spread much more on it than we had realised. I was so upset that I had ruined the dress, but Suzanne wasn’t in the least concerned.

“Look let’s slip it off you and I can take it to be cleaned tomorrow.” Suzanne suggested. Once it was off me, and I was better able to inspect the damage, I was horrified, and I was sure I had ruined the prettiest dress I had ever worn. Suzanne consoled me, and tried to point out that it actually was not really that expensive, but she had bought it on a whim after buying the same for Mary. She had thought it would just be a bit of fun to dress us the same for the birthday party. But if it needed replacing she could replace it with a more grown up, sophisticated dress. I didn’t want to have to replace it, not because of the financial impact, but I loved that dress; it was perfect in my eyes. That set the conversation off in a new direction. Suzanne had noted that I was drawn towards more juvenile clothing, and things like drinking from the baby bottle as I was, or wearing diapers, which I was still, under the frilly covers and multi-coloured petticoat wearing together with frilly socks and camisole top. Suzanne gently suggested that not many 18 year old girls would be so content being treated as a baby. Remember then I didn’t know of anything like Adult Babies or the whole community of ABDL, which we now all understand now. To me, at that time, I was the freak, the weirdo. But because of the trust that I had in Suzanne I was willing to bare more of my soul to her than I had ever shared to anyone else. I didn’t actually feel too embarrassed admitting that I preferred cute designs like the dress. As for wearing diapers, of course, at first I really needed them, and they served a useful purpose, but I was able to admit to Suzanne that I experienced such a feeling of security when I was tightly diapered. The nappy didn’t just present a barrier to stop wee leaking out, but it made me feel safer as it was another barrier to stop anything unwanted from the other direction. I loved being Mary’s ‘big sister’ and even if that meant that I was dressed like her, had my hair done in similar fashions or I drank from sippy cups like Mary did, then I was happy to continue to do so. Being fed from the baby bottle while in her arms made me feel so safe and secure. All my troubles and worries in the big scary world would retreat, and I think Suzanne understood what I was trying to explain. I am no different now; if the big scary world ever gets too much for me, then I retreat into my own shell. I stop trying to interact with it. I cut the outside world off. I enter my safe, little space. I don’t have to put my nappies on, or drink from a bottle, I am able to enter my little space entirely through my mind alone. For several years later that is all I could do, but it is certainly what enabled me to survive.

I even explained some of my weird concerns, but I wish I had been able to open up more to Suzanne at that stage. This is where my fantasies came in, and I have decided to keep my own fantasies removed from this story. I will explain them more in a separate chapter, or separate story. But I wish with all my heart I could have been completely honest and open with Suzanne. I felt so special when she babied me, and wanted her to continue to do that to me forever, and not just for this period. I am not sure what her reaction would have been, and at the time, I think I didn’t say anything out of fear it would shock her into stopping altogether. Looking back now I don’t know what her reaction would have been, but I am sure that my concern of being thrown out as some sick weirdo would not have really happened. I would suckle from the baby bottle in her arms, but in my fantasies I would suckle from her boobies, which were right next to me. My favourite position was when Suzanne would feed me from the bottle, with me semi-reclined using her breasts to rest my head against. I don’t think it was a particular sexual feeling then…I was so inexperienced in that area, I was not really able to reach any conclusion in that area. Not only was I a virgin, but I hadn’t actually experienced an orgasm at that stage of my life. But looking back I wish I could have explained more of how I was feeling.

Suzanne listened to my slightly disjointed reasoning and admissions. She responded with such affection and concern, never once humiliating me. She said she understood, and reminded me that it had been her doctor who had suggested that my mental state would be improved by someone babying me a bit. She was happy to continue as we were, and she admired the diaper covers I was still wearing, adjusting the frills, saying that I looked so cute like this anyway. I loved being described as cute and admitted that with all my ugly scars and deformed body, I didn’t think anyone would have ever been able to describe me as cute. Suzanne said I could easily be cute and have scars, and in fact, I could be proud of all my scars as they showed part of my tough journey that I had survived. She sat me up and lifting my camisole at the rear, she admired, actually admired, the scars along my spine and across my hips. She traced them again with her fingertips, and remarked at the contrast between them, my soft, pale skin, and the satin of the diaper covers. It wasn’t sexual, but it was intimate. Again, my own fantasies began to mix the two in my mind, but I am sure there was nothing sexual in Suzanne’s mind or actions. It was a loving touch, but out of care and affection. I would have loved her fingers to explore me everywhere in the same fashion, but it was only my mind which was making these warped steps. It was probably lucky that I was wearing a diaper, otherwise my enjoyment of the experience would have certainly left a mark…. Suzanne agreed to allow me to keep wearing diapers and matching clothing with Mary, I think for two main reasons, but I hope there was a third. The first reason was because it clearly made me happy, and made me feel safer, the second was because it also made Mary happier, as she had a friend, a big sister, who was comfortable to be treated the same. Suzanne very much treated us as sisters, and just spent most of the day talking ‘down’ to us both, not at all in a condescending way, but in a loving way. It was things like, “what are you two up to know?” or “I really don’t know what to do with you both!” In the evenings, she would treat me more as an adult, although still very much in a protective role. The best way to describe this is that during the day, I felt like, acted like, and was treated like, Mary’s older sister. As much as possible, we dressed alike, we ate similar food and drinks. Because Suzanne was doing this, then it was inevitable that people around us should follow her lead and do much the same, so waiters and shop assistants would also talk down to us. If we went to a café or restaurant then Suzanne would always be given the main menu and wine list, I would just about always be given a kiddie menu, and Mary would get a smile! But then in the evenings, the conversation always became more grown up, but often it was Suzanne leading the conversation, like a older sister to her much younger, but also adult, sister. So we would talk politics (which is really important in South Africa), but also about celebrities and certain clothing that we wanted or new hairstyles and the like.

But the conversation did turn around, if not directly to sex, but to my own social life, if not love life, both of which were, and always had been completely empty and absent. Suzanne pointed out that I would have little chance attracting others if I continued dressing as a toddler or baby, but I really had no interest in doing so. I admitted that my whole life now revolved around her, and Mary. I really did have no interest in any sort of sexual or even alternate friendship. I explained to her that I was happier now than I had ever been in my life. I tried to explain how my childhood years were all imprinted with the notion that I was an unwanted extra, that just caused problems or got in the way of everyone. This is a lesson I have carried with me for the rest of my life; there is nothing better than waking up surrounded by people who want you there and love you for who you are. Mary knew no resistance to her emotions. If she felt happy or sad, angry or frustrated then it was evident from her facial expressions and her mannerisms. She didn’t even have to say anything. Suzanne was much the same; her easy expression of love and affection when she would first see Mary and me in the morning was so enriching, so wonderful, and yet sadly so unfamiliar to me. What the three of us had in that house at that time was so special, so rare. If I could bottle it, or find the recipe, then I had the answer for world peace. Yes, I was beginning to have fantasies, and many of them of a very sexual nature, but I had been so repressed for so long, there is probably little surprise. Looking back, the fact that so many centred around Suzanne being a dominant role in those fantasies was also not really surprising too. She was the first adult who had ever shown me love, she was incredibly beautiful and elegant, and she was always very much in charge. I had all I could ever dream of.

We continued hugging and her fingertips kept their journeying around my back and chatting. She told me how fortunate she felt that I had arrived and the role I had taken on in their lives. She understood that I felt I was learning so much from her, but she also explained that she had learned things from me, and she described how the two recent events with Mary, in the hospital and later in the doctor’s surgery when I had taken charge of the situation as I pronounced it to be “unfair”. I was right, and in both cases I had proved I was right, in front of many professional adults. She told me she admired my stance and the way I had taken charge of the situation when it mattered. I was then able to explain that I was not so comfortable with the situation where I was pretending to receive an injection. I felt that made me to be a fraud, and it wasn’t fair again to Mary. Really, to be fair, I ought to receive a real injection too. Initially Suzanne tried to disagree, but in the end she promised to have a word with the doctor, as she understood that the whole concept of fairness was really important to me. Clearly, I couldn’t have the same medication as Mary, but perhaps the doctor would be willing to just inject a saline solution or something, if only to answer my need for ‘fairness’.

We actually ended up talking way later than when I usually went to bed. Suzanne informed me the next morning, but she also pointed out another benefit of keeping me in diapers for a bit longer, as I had fallen sound asleep in her arms, and she was confident that I was not suffering any problems from banging my head as all the signs had been normal, and my breathing once asleep was not laboured. She had carried me to my bed and just slipped the petticoat and my socks off before pulling my duvet over me. She did check on me regularly throughout the night though.
 

BelGeorge

Est. Contributor
Messages
42
Role
  1. Diaper Lover
  2. Little
@babyann,
I love to read your story, despite all the difficult and unfair elements that you have experienced in your life.
You write it so beautifully, and knowing that everything really happened makes it one of the best stories I've been able to read here on this site.

I think it's a good choice to write down the fantasies you had/have in a separate story, and I'll be just as interested in reading that too.
 

babyann

Est. Contributor
Messages
214
Role
  1. Adult Baby
  2. Little
  3. Incontinent
  4. Other
@babyann,
I love to read your story, despite all the difficult and unfair elements that you have experienced in your life.
You write it so beautifully, and knowing that everything really happened makes it one of the best stories I've been able to read here on this site.

I think it's a good choice to write down the fantasies you had/have in a separate story, and I'll be just as interested in reading that too.
Thank you George, although I feel I am a really long way from writing beautifully. I just feel compelled (and encouraged, by comments like yours) to try to share the emotions of that time, otherwise they would be “lost like tears in rain”, and I fear that might break my heart. The fantasies are more difficult to extract from the story…for me…. I have always had fantasies, right from my earliest memories. We didn’t have TV at home as a child, but once I could read, I would read everything. These would also feed my fantasies. I would write out these fantasies in my diaries, and if I read some of the early ones now, it can be even difficult to separate what really happened, and what only happened in my mind. I mean I know I didn’t go off on the back of a beautiful horse, to live with the leopards in the mountains…I might have been encouraged by Rudyard Kipling there anyway…. But there are several passages, one where I am taken to an African wedding held in the bush, but I can’t think who would have taken me, or who got married…. But I have asked people and some of the intricate details that I had written do actually happen. I can only think that someone else told me of their own experience, and somehow I stole it as my own, but I can’t even think who would have told me. The same happens here…I have had intense fantasies, that I regularly re-visit in my mind, even to this day, so when I re-live them in my mind, I know what is going to happen next…it’s like deja-vu but also not like it. I honestly do not think my brain is wired the same as anyone else’s. It never was, but then I certainly was not the right person to take hard drugs…that messes anyone’s mind up! But mine was messed up already. So the fantasies are just as important, to me. But I don’t want to cheapen the events for others. But I do think it is important that people can understand what was going through my mind at the time. I don’t think I have that right yet. I did feel undeserving of the affection I was shown, and I also lived under the foreboding premonition that I would somehow bring it all crashing down. I am not sure…I might just do the fantasies, as separate chapters that people can skip if they choose, but I feel I may have to do them before bringing this to its conclusion. I can’t write any more of the last chapter, until I am somewhere safe, with someone to pick me up afterwards. I am not saying this to make anyone feel sorry for me, please don’t be. The reasons for this are all selfish, in many ways…well not selfish exactly, self-centred maybe…. I am the only person who wants to write this whole story, because I am the only person who can write this whole story. Aside from the fantasies, and my diaries (which I was too scared to open), the time had gone. Somehow my diaries have survived my weird life, through all its odd twists and turns, they survived because they are totally worthless to anyone else. Anything that I had owned of any value was either stolen or sold by me for drugs. I also experimented with different codes, some of which I had completely forgotten about too, and there are pages and pages of complete nonsense. There are even some drawings which I don’t remember doing…some drawings I can clearly remember almost each stroke of the pencil, they are so imprinted…but then the next sketch could have been done by someone else entirely. It is all a bit messed up.
 

kerry

ADISC Moderator
Staff
Messages
1,442
Role
  1. Little
  2. Incontinent
I feel as if I keep saying the same things to you. Maybe I do, but I think they are well worth saying. Listen to those of us who are telling you that what you write is moving us; there is no reason at all for us to lie—or to post anything at all if we are not feeling it. Personally, I find you to be a genuine and remarkable young woman. (I don't know how old you actually are, but you seem to indicate that these events at age 18 are several years in your past.) I am truly saddened that your life experiences have so often hurt so much, and I continue to hope deeply that you'll find your way to Capetown soon.
 
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