Never Broken (18 page)

Two days later a text came through, asking me out for dinner at a local restaurant. By the next weekend we were sitting there, just the two of us. The chat flowed all night and we got on so well as we literally had not only some mutual friends in common but shared views on everything, from films to what we liked to eat. It was great fun and we ended the night with a kiss outside the restaurant and then he called me a cab. There was no way it was ever going to be anything more than that as I just wasn’t ready, but even though it was an innocent kiss, it was a huge deal for me. I had met a man who I found gorgeous and he felt the same attraction for me.
I was buzzing all the way home in the taxi; I couldn’t wait to see him again. The taxi hadn’t even pulled up outside my house when the text came through from him saying he’d had a great night and when could he see me again.

That was the start of nearly two months of dating. We had a lot of fun and I was really flattered as although I was feeling so much more confident within myself there was still the tiny voice in my head that said: ‘Why is he with someone like me who has only one leg?’ I knew, as the relationship was progressing, we would be physically intimate at some point. I had never been with anyone since Jamie, so not only was that a big deal but now I was going to get intimate with a new man while only having one leg. We had gone to the cinema and a few drinks afterwards when he suggested coming back to mine for a nightcap. I knew what that meant and what it might lead to, but it was very much a now or never moment. I really liked him and I knew he felt the same and it was inevitable that our relationship had to go to the next level.

When we got back to mine one thing led to another and it was obvious we were going to take things further and head to the bedroom. My main concern wasn’t actually the act of having sex as I could keep my leg on for that, it was the sleeping afterwards, as I have to take my leg off every night to avoid infections. When anyone sleeps they are at their most vulnerable, but I felt even more so with the thought I’d be lying there in bed with a new man with only one leg. I thought: ‘Oh, my God, I’m going to feel so exposed!’

I knew it was just another hurdle I was going to have to force myself to overcome and that after I’d done it once I would be able to do it again and it would be easier. I was so nervous but I was going to go through with it. I didn’t even turn the
lights off – I kept the bedside lamp on. After we made love, I quickly took my leg off in front of him as I sat on the edge of the bed. He made it so natural for me and didn’t flinch or say a word. It was like the most natural thing in the world to him. I think deep down he probably was a bit awkward about it all, not because he didn’t find me attractive but because he didn’t know what to say to me to make me feel better. But then we cuddled up and went to sleep. I could barely shut my eyes as not only was I exhilarated by what had happened, I was so relieved that me taking my leg off hadn’t been the massive big deal I’d built it up to be. Again it was another watershed moment to add to the many I’d already had.

We kept dating for the next few months and while it was fun it was beginning to peter out. I felt he was a bit controlling and he started to get a bit jealous of any male friends I had. Retrospectively, I think he knew I wasn’t 100 per cent confident in myself or our relationship.

A few months into our relationship he would openly say things like: ‘Why do you need to talk to any of those other men as you’ve got me now?’ It started to make me feel a bit claustrophobic and I began to feel a bit isolated as I was spending less time with male friends I’d known for years. One of my close friends whom I’d known since Headley Court actually called me up and said how upset he was because he barely saw me anymore. That was a catalyst. It got me thinking, was this relationship really worth it? Straight away I knew in my heart that the answer was no. I also knew it was never going to go anywhere long term. I had been through so much I just wanted to enjoy myself and looking back, I think I probably wouldn’t have been that attracted to him in normal circumstances if I hadn’t had my injury.

If I’m being honest with myself I was just flattered he found me attractive, but then I thought: ‘I am too strong to turn into one of those women who are grateful to a man just for being with them.’ So I made the decision I wasn’t going to stick with him just because I couldn’t get anyone else and broke off the relationship after about six months.

Although it hadn’t lasted, the experience gave me the confidence to start dating properly again, so I do have him to thank for that. I decided I would go the online dating route as it suited me because I was busy; I also had Milly and I knew I wouldn’t really meet anyone serious in a bar. I’d come on leaps and bounds with my confidence as I’d jumped the hurdle of being able to tell people about my leg and I knew if I did meet anyone serious and it was going to turn intimate, I had the confidence to cope with that situation as well.

It was also around this time that I decided to put in place the final piece of my body makeover jigsaw and have my second boob job at the beginning of 2013. Before I was blown up, although I was a size 10, I’d always had quite a big bust. And while my first boob job had made a massive difference as my breasts had looked like deflated balloons after my weight dropped off, they were smaller than they were before and I’d also cocked them up with my ski-bob antics. When you have a prosthetic leg it changes your body shape – your bum loses its volume as you no longer use your glutes to walk, instead using your thigh muscles, and I wanted to look in proportion.

So I decided to use £5,500 of my compensation money to go from a C-cup to an E-cup. I found a new surgeon who helped me decide on a high-profile shape this time, which gives a perkier, fuller look. I wasn’t nervous before going in as it was a very straightforward procedure. Mum wasn’t pleased
about me going under the knife again as she thought that this second operation was purely for vanity reasons, but when she knew how strongly I felt about it, she supported me. Some people might find it extraordinary that I made the decision to do that, but when you’ve lost all your confidence and dignity these things made a massive difference. I didn’t have to look at rolls of flab anymore, or loose skin; I looked what I was – a women in her twenties. I think, as well, because I’d had my first bit of intimacy in a relationship I knew there would be more, so I wanted to look and feel the best I could.

Funnily enough, after my operation the surgeon expressed his surprise that one of my implants appeared to be upside down inside me. I didn’t have the guts to tell him why! My recovery time was very speedy and I was, and still am, delighted by the results. Finally I was back to being a sexy, attractive young women, I felt. Around this time I invested in a lot of new tops and while I didn’t want them all low-cut, I was so proud of the way I was looking and the hard work I had put in to get myself there. I remember it was only weeks after the op when Milly was in bed when I thought: ‘What the hell? I’m going to put myself on an Internet dating site.’ I grabbed my laptop and did a bit of research. I was looking not just for sex or one-night stands, but actually a place to meet someone for a more meaningful long-term relationship. I put a nice picture on the site and a few paragraphs saying I was a fun and upbeat person looking to have a laugh but for something more than a fling. And also that I was looking for a man who had a similar positive view of life.

I started getting emails through within a few days and within a week I had arranged to go out on a date. It was a disaster from the get-go. We’d arranged to meet at a local
bar and he turned up nearly an hour late wearing jewelled cowboy boots. He was wearing two giant earrings and had long bleached blond hair; he was also at least ten years older than he had said he was. I spent the entire hour and a half we were together barely getting a word in edgeways as he felt the need to spend the whole time talking about how he was about to realise his lifelong ambition of owning his own dog kennels. He even went so far as to describe in great detail the type of flooring he was planning to put down. I walked away feeling dejected and thought it couldn’t get any worse than that. Little did I know that more than a couple of weeks later it could!

I was determined my first Internet date wasn’t going to be my last, so after a few emails with another guy, I decided to go on another date. We met at a local restaurant but when I walked in and saw him sitting there I knew I’d made a big mistake. He was about twenty years older than his profile picture. But I thought: ‘Oh well, what the hell? I’ll at least sit and have the meal and give him a chance.’ I hadn’t told him anything at all about my leg as I felt it was far too soon and to look at me you would never know.

We had only just finished our starters and from nowhere he began to tell me about how he was a foot fetishist. I nearly choked on a bread roll. He just kept on and on about how he found feet such a turn-on. This had come from nowhere and in my head I was thinking: ‘I’ve only got one, mate, so you’re going to be deeply disappointed!’ I excused myself and went to the toilet and never came back. Needless to say I never heard from him again either, thankfully.

I was nearly put off Internet dating completely by this second experience but I’d paid for a three-month subscription to the
site so I kept hanging on in there. I went on a few more dates and while the men were really nice and we had a pleasant time together there was really no spark. Then, a few months in, I was matched with someone randomly. They have a feature on the dating site called the roulette wheel, which as you’d expect from the name is a way for people who wouldn’t normally be matched by the site getting matched together, like being given a random wild card. A guy called Anthony flashed up and I could see he was attractive from his picture. He obviously felt the same so we started off messaging one another. It was all really basic stuff, but after a few emails over a couple of days he asked me to tell him the most interesting things about me.

I replied: ‘My favourite colour’s purple and I am the only mum in the British Army to have lost a limb in Iraq.’

He emailed straight back and said: ‘Whoa, whoa, whoa, stop right there. What is this about Iraq?’

I replied immediately that the easiest way for me to explain was for him to look at a few of newspaper cuttings that I had about me, which were on my Facebook page. I think I just wanted to get the message out to him really quickly this was who I was, take it or leave it. Anthony emailed straight back and asked me out on a date. I had butterflies in my stomach for I knew this was going to be the start of something big in my life – I just didn’t know quite how big at that time.

A
s first dates go, my initial meeting with Anthony in October 2012 was hardly inspiring. We’d been emailing each other for weeks and the banter was great. I knew what he looked like from his photographs, but due to all my previous dud dates I also knew often they bore no resemblance to the person they were supposed to be. When Anthony suggested dinner at a local steak house in Winchester I agreed straight away. I was excited at the thought of meeting him in the flesh and I thought: ‘God, I really hope I fancy him.’

He arranged to pick me up and drive me over, which I thought was a really nice, gentlemanly thing to suggest. I was a bag of nerves all day and when the doorbell rang at 6.30pm my hands shook when opened the door. As soon as I saw his bald head and twinkly blue eyes I thought: ‘Yeah, he’s not too bad. He’ll do!’ There was no thunderbolt moment, like you see in the movies, but while he didn’t totally bowl me over looks-wise, I consoled myself with the
fact it was his personality that had attracted me in the first place.

I grabbed my coat and we set off in the car together. There was a really relaxed atmosphere between us; we just got on so well. While there wasn’t a massive sexual spark between us that first evening it was fun. Also, as he already knew all about my leg and we’d talked about it before there was no pressure to go over that ground again. For me, that was great as it wasn’t the elephant in the room. We spent a fun few hours at the restaurant and when he dropped me off at my house, he went in for a kiss. It didn’t last long and while I wasn’t left walking on air afterwards, I liked him enough to agree to a second date.

This time he suggested cooking dinner at mine and he rustled up an Italian pasta dish. The chemistry still wasn’t there massively for me but it was growing and we did have a right laugh together, so I thought I’d give it a go for a few dates at least.

For our third date I suggested we went to Milton Keynes indoor sky diving, which was completely exhilarating – much more up my street. I’m not sure if it was because we were doing something a bit more daring and we were both out of our comfort zones, but it was the first time I actually felt a sexual spark between us. So, from that point on it snowballed and we embarked on a whirlwind romance and became passionately into each other.

From the start of our relationship Anthony was completely unfazed by my leg. He was the first person I’d come across for whom it wasn’t an issue for at all. There was no awkwardness, even when we made love for the first time. Initially, he would lavish me with praise and nice comments about my
appearance, which gave my confidence a boost. It was also just a real relief to meet someone who seemed as at ease with my amputation as I myself had become.

In the early days of our romance lots of other things were happening in my life. Just a few weeks after our first date I had my medical board to decide if I would stay in the Army. I had to speak to one female and two male doctors, who wanted to know what I could and couldn’t do, what I struggled with at work and if I felt I could still perform in my role in the Army. Once we’d talked everything through, I left the room and sat outside while they deliberated. A short while later they called me back in and told me they were going to give me a medical discharge from the Army. There and then I got my paperwork from the clerk and I was given sixteen months to finish off any medical treatment I needed for my rehabilitation and prosthetics, as well as further retraining as a beautician, which was funded by the Army. Meeting the medical board was a momentous time as it was when I severed my ties with Army life. Although I had a year and a half left, I knew it was over. I walked out with the letter in my hand and immediately when I got home, I phoned my resettlement officer, who helped me with all the additional beauty courses I wanted to do to take it beyond the hobby it had been so far. I felt excited – I was completely ready to start this new chapter in my life. I’d never turn my back on the Army as it had been such a huge part of my life, but I was ready to move on.

I left my Army house and moved in with Anthony in February 2013, renting a sprawling detached property in Northampton. He had a five-year-old son he cared for part-time and with Milly we had a ready-made family. It was a whirlwind romance and I fell deeply in love very quickly, but it felt right as so many new things were opening up for me.

For me, it was also the right time to sever ties with my past life. For years, Jamie and I had never got round to divorcing each other. By now he had also found love again so I rang him and said: ‘Do you think it’s time that we got divorced?’ He immediately laughed and agreed the time had come to finally get the paperwork sorted, as it was just a formality we hadn’t got round to doing. As we chatted I remember saying: ‘Both our lives are moving on.’ I had no regrets as it was absolutely the right thing and to be honest life had just got in the way of us doing it before.

The day my decree absolute came through Jamie got his post first. He texted me to say: ‘It’s here.’ An hour later, mine popped through the letterbox. It wasn’t emotional to close such an important chapter in my life, but it did make me think about what an extraordinary husband he’d been. So I texted him: ‘I just want to say thank you for everything you did for me and I think we are doing the right thing for Milly.’

Shortly afterwards, he replied: ‘Thank you for saying that.’ It wasn’t sad as we both knew it was coming and I think we both felt quite happy at the way it had gone, but I needed to say that as I’ll always be grateful for the kindness and love he gave to me. Without that, I wouldn’t be here now, and I decided not to revert back to my maiden name, but to keep the name Campbell as it was the same as Milly’s.

As a divorcee, co-habiting with Anthony, life together, at first, was great but a baby was never on the cards. I took a job at Lloyds Pharmacy to help make ends meet and I experienced just one lingering sadness. Four years earlier, during one of my many hospital admissions, I’d asked one of my doctors to tell me if I would ever be able to have anymore children. His answer was quite matter of fact: he said I had a lot of internal
scarring from the blast and a high-velocity shrapnel wound had also caused internal damage, grazing my womb and causing a lot of scar tissue. He told me it meant I wouldn’t be able to have a baby. At the time I’d felt utter devastation, but I blocked out my feelings or they could have overwhelmed me and at the time I had to focus on getting well. I consoled myself with the fact I was lucky to already have Milly and I forced myself to move on with my life, sad but resigned to the fact I’d never experience motherhood again. I told Anthony early on, as I felt it was right he should know, but as he already had a son, Leo, from a previous relationship he didn’t see himself with any more children in his life at that point. So it was never an issue between us.

Under my compensation the abdominal wounds came under the classification of ‘high-velocity gunshot wounds’, but in fact it was explained to me that shrapnel had entered my body in exactly the same way as a bullet. Even in January 2015 they discovered more of the shrapnel inside my abdomen, which had moved, causing me excruciating pain and an emergency admission to Northampton Hospital.

In addition to those injuries I’d been fitted with a coil for my heavy periods, so when we found out I was pregnant when I was having a routine blood test at the end of August 2013, I was left reeling in shock. Originally I’d been to the doctor as I hadn’t been feeling well and when the results came in, the receptionist rang me and said, ‘Please can you come in as the doctor needs to discuss with you the results.’

The moment I walked in, he said: ‘I think you had better sit down – as you’re pregnant.’ The room started spinning. I just remember muttering: ‘Oh, my God! No, that can’t be possible’, and I walked out in a daze. I drove home in a state
of disbelief, as not only had I suffered those injuries, but I also used the contraceptive coil in order to ease the heavy periods I suffered. I pulled into my drive and then pulled back out again before driving straight back to the surgery to reassure myself I really was having another baby. It just wasn’t possible. I never dreamed I’d be a mother again. He had to repeat himself five times as I just didn’t believe it. It was only then that it began to sink in, and I felt utter joy and excitement that something so wonderful and miraculous had happened against all the odds.

I drove back home and sat in the drive for a few minutes before going to speak to Anthony, who was at home as he’d recently lost his job. To fill his day he was up a ladder, decorating the bathroom. I just blurted out: ‘Anthony, I’m pregnant’ and he fell off the ladder in surprise. Luckily he didn’t hurt himself but he was shocked, to say the least and he kept gasping in stunned disbelief.

My mothering instinct kicked in the moment I knew of my unborn baby’s existence and I loved her. The timing was also extraordinary as it was just three weeks before I was medically discharged from the Army – so it felt as if she was also part of a new start.

When we told Milly she was so excited. I think it was probably the longest nine months of her life, waiting for her little sister.

Once we realised I was pregnant my doctor was immediately concerned that scar tissue from my blast injuries wouldn’t stretch, which could prevent my unborn baby from growing properly inside me. So, regretfully I handed in my notice at the pharmacy. As Anthony was also unemployed after losing his job as a marketing consultant, our sole income would be
my Army medical pension, but I thought we could make ends meet until he found work.

Every four weeks I went for a scan to make sure things were going OK. Luckily I stayed so tiny during my pregnancy that I never got any bigger than a size 12 all the way through. I watched what I ate once I was over the morning sickness. I had two healthy cravings: raw, cold apples from the fridge and porridge, so luckily my scar tissue didn’t become an issue.

I also went to my prosthetics expert to find out the effects of pregnancy on my leg and he said: ‘Some people breeze all the way through, others need to have the socket changed if their leg swells up, which can happen in the same way that other prospective mums get swollen ankles. You can also get sores or problems with your hips as your gait changes.’ While I didn’t suffer from those problems I ended up in and out of hospital, struggling to eat and crippled by unexplained stomach pains, and my illness did put a tremendous strain on us. We’d moved in together quickly, we were having an unexpected baby together, but now, on top of that, an added stress was this devastating illness that left me in and out of the emergency department and having scans, surgery and tests.

Initially, we tried to make things work. Just weeks before Lexi-River was born Anthony proposed to me on Valentine’s Day 2014 on ITV’s
This Morning
programme, out of the blue. It was a complete surprise, but while I said ‘Yes’, privately, I already had reservations about whether our relationship would last. However, I resolved to give things a go for the sake of our baby. Even though our relationship was troubled, my impending baby had allowed me to find inner peace and I hoped she’d do that for my relationship as well.

My inner wellbeing wasn’t just down to my unborn baby, though. Every year on the anniversary of the blast I’d receive an email from Karl, saying, ‘Happy Life Day’. Through our annual email exchanges we shared in the pain of that day and commemorated and celebrated our survival. I can talk to people who have been through similar experiences and tell them what happened but it is never going to be like talking to Karl because he was the only person who was there with me – minutes before it happened and in the aftermath. I’ve talked to other injured soldiers but no one was there in that instant, moving through what we lived through.

So when I received an email out of the blue on 25 January from him, explaining he’d been feeling low, I wanted to help. He had battled with PTSD in the years since he’d left the Army and Iraq behind, and he felt the time had come to face his demons.

He wrote: ‘I’ve been feeling down. We’ve spoken about meeting in the past and never done it. What are you doing this weekend?’

Immediately, I replied: ‘Here’s my address. I’d love to see you.’ It was just coincidence that the first day he had free was my thirtieth birthday, on 24 January, but it turned out to be a fantastic birthday present for us both. Karl sat outside for ten minutes, steeling himself to knock on my door. The last time he’d seen me in the flesh was in the hospital bed, days after pulling me from the rubble. He admitted the state I was in when he’d pulled me free had haunted him for years. He’d listened to me screaming, buried alive; he’d used his bare hands to dig me out and he pulled my lifeless body from the rubble.

It wasn’t as nerve wracking for me as it was on my territory,
so when I opened the front door to see him standing there I just wanted to make him so welcome after all he’d done for me. As he’d written he’d been having a hard time with everything, I’d wondered if it had changed him beyond all recognition. I needn’t have worried, though: as soon as I saw him, I just gave him a massive hug and it was like we’d only been apart for a day. It was brilliant to see him again. Time and what had happened seemed to melt away and waves of emotion washed over me at what had happened over the years, but the overwhelming one was of joy to see him again.

While Anthony made us a cup of tea Karl told me: ‘I feel such guilt about what happened to you.’ I told him that the guilt wasn’t his to shoulder. In fact, I think my words were: ‘That is the most ridiculous guilt ever – you have nothing to feel guilty for!’ I told Karl I wouldn’t have met Anthony and I wouldn’t have this beautiful baby inside me if the blast hadn’t happened.

I firmly explained: ‘I am quite at peace with the fact I had to go through such a dark time to get to where I am now. My daughter is a new beginning in my life and I want you to have a new beginning in yours. There’s nothing to forgive.’ I also wanted him to understand that only one person was to blame in all of this and that was the insurgent who had pressed the button, launching the mortar.