He told her if she lost their unborn baby he would hurt her.

Warning: This post features explicit details of abuse that could be triggering for some readers.

I am not a victim. I prefer the term survivor.

It’s no badge of honour but it’s a cold hard truth of an escape away from the dangers of a loveless relationship. It’s a battle scar that I wear every day; a reminder to act wisely, walk carefully, think twice and to be thankful to have made it out.

In April this year, I fell pregnant to a partner that I thought I loved. I wanted this baby. So did my ex. The difference however was that he wanted this child at the expense of my own life.

At a time that should have been filled with joy, my partner instructed that if I lost the baby, he would hurt me. I had no idea just how badly he meant that.

It’s common knowledge that when you’re pregnant, any undue stress can cause complications. Sure enough, by June, I had miscarried. Not only was I left to mourn the loss of my flesh and blood, I carried a new kind of grief that was heavy laden with fear for my life as well. I knew what lay ahead would be dire. I felt powerless to control it and hoped that the hospital I attended would protect me. They didn’t.

Fearful for my life, I didn’t tell my partner I’d lost our child, having only told a social worker about my inner thoughts, feelings and fears for the relationship I was in.

By August, my ex was onto me. He began probing me, telling me things I had only told the hospital when I lost my child.

It’s one thing to fall victim to abuse at the hands of a partner, it’s a much bigger ball game when the entire health system fails you too.

Watch Christine Anu talk about her experience of being in an abusive relationship. (Post continues after video.):

The more he probed, the more it became clear to me that he had gone as far as accessing my hospital records. He told me he knew everything and confirmed he had my file.

This man was more dangerous than I realised and the hospital I trusted was working with him. 52 pages of clinical notes, doctor’s observations, documents of my pain – were in his possession and I was powerless to control it.

The gross negligence by this hospital had me one breath away from life and death. He told me he got the notes from a friend who worked in the system; each word was a death sentence and everyday thereafter was a race against time.

Just days later it was my friend’s wedding. I was a bridesmaid. What normally is a joyous journey between friends was marred by his violence. I vividly remember the night he tried to pin me down, vowing to shave my head so I’d be hideous at that wedding. I was so fearful I ran naked onto the street, forgetting propriety in my bolt for survival.

Then there was the day he threw me on the couch and pinned me down, forcing his knee into my neck. I hereard a click and my mind went to the worst-case scenario; believing I’d become paralysed. Catastrophising was part and parcel with this relationship. I could only think of the worst because terror in those days, was all I knew.

The other thing I knew was that I had to get out. It wasn’t easy. It took several attempts and an army of support. Shine Lawyers would hold the hospital accountable and the police would look after my protection.

Since walking away and filing a restraining order, I’ve been kicked in the stomach, my car has been damaged but more than anything it’s my loss of liberty, self-esteem and inner strength that have catastrophically changed me.

There were people that warned me that my ex was trouble. There were moments early on where a wall was punched or his anger was uncontrollable. Like many women, I stayed because I thought those punches and that violence would never be directed towards me. I knew I was in trouble and waited until it was almost too late.

This White Ribbon Day, I feel a duty to share my story. It was only months ago that I was trapped in a dungeon and headed for disaster. If my story resonates with you, get up, seek help, run towards the door and stop this cycle.

As a survivor, this year, I feel I owe it to my struggle to put the brakes on the bloodshed that is both feared and endured every day by women like myself. If I can save a life, this battle is won.

If this post brought up any issues for you, or you just feel like you need someone to talk to after reading it, you can contact Lifeline on 13 11 14 at any time of the day or night.

If you feel unsafe please phone 000 or the relevant emergency services in your area. 

Listen to Rosie Batty tell Mia Freedman about how family violence turned her life upside down.