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I knew he worked hard, so I tried my hardest to be the best wife possible.

My baby was a 2 hourly feeder, round the clock. I tried to go out of our bedroom to feed her so I wouldn’t wake hubby. But would come back in if he needed some attention. Even giving in to his whims of only allowing myself to heal for about two weeks. He had never had to wait that long before!

I would cook and clean the house and try to make sure everything was perfect, to please him.

I then tried to go to the gym to retain my pre-pregnancy shape, so he wouldn’t have a fat wife. Within about 3 or 4 months I was 45 kilos.

I was exhausted, rung out, tired beyond belief.

I would remember feeling the bruises, some around my ribs and not remembering quite where I’d gotten them, but didn’t have time to dwell on that, I had a house to organize and a little one to run around for.

I remember my body shaped holes in the wall and fist shaped holes in the door. I remember having to wear scarves as I had some odd colorations round my neck and for some reason a dark shape rising up my chin.

One night when I fed my baby she didn’t go back to sleep just kept crying and crying and so I thought I would try her nappy. No, that wasnt it.
Then my husband finally got up, by now I was upset I couldn’t help my baby.
“what can I do?” he asked
“get the panadol, please”
“but what if it’s something else, should I try something else?”
I was so tired and the screaming was really getting to me so I raised my voice and said,
“just get the panadol!”

Before I knew it my feet were dangling in the air and I was up against the wall being held by my throat.

That was the first time I really realized I was being abused.

Perhaps it was the fact my baby was still crying that alerted me that I needed to be aware to look after her, I don’t know.