The last time I was here, there were two men who could have been the father of my child. Out of the two, only one knew I was pregnant—Marcus.
There was Marcus, and there was Kachi. I was eighteen when I fell pregnant and the weight of it shook me. I kept wondering what my life would look like if I chose not to keep the baby, and who the father really was. I thought about giving the child to Kachi, but when I found out he was with multiple women, changing them like rugs, I turned to Marcus.
At first, Marcus didn’t push or argue. He said whatever I decided, he would respect. The choice was mine, and he would stand by me.
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But it didn’t take long before he began pressing me. He said he was getting old. I told him I was still young. We went back and forth until he threatened me: “In my family, we don’t abort. If you do, you’ll die.”
So I agreed to have the child. We went home, he introduced himself to my family, and I moved in with him in the city.
I gave birth and didn’t tell my mother. I was young and naïve, but the child changed me in ways I didn’t expect. I stepped up, bathed her, cared for her as if I had done it before. Sometimes I looked at her with pain, other times with awe—because I was her mother.
Children are supposed to bring joy, but ours didn’t make things easier. But, her birth didn’t bring that kind of blessing.
Marcus lost his job. Robbers broke into his shop and took everything, down to the last pin. I lost my job too, and suddenly we were at zero—with a child.
Life since the robbery has been a series of hard days. Marcus owns a piece of land he could sell to start a business. I suggested it so that once the baby is four months old, I can return to work. He refused. Every morning, he wakes up and looks to the hills for a miracle. Some days manna falls; other days, it feels as though God has turned a blind eye to me.
“My brother promised me. He won’t fail,” Marcus has said for months. He insists his brother told him to wait and promised to support him with whatever little he has.
Should he wait for his brother while we starve? Is selling his land such a crime?
His sister arrived recently and accused me of pressuring him. She told me that if I was tired of the struggle, I should leave, but I had to leave the child behind since I “came with nothing.”
I asked if she was serious. She didn’t blink. “You are not allowed to take the child away,” she said.
Now, a tug-of-war rages in this house and in my head. I have a child I would die for. She wasn’t born under the right circumstances, but she is here, and I love her. I want to believe that when I return home, my mother will love her too. Or will she? I have been a stubborn child. I ate the forbidden fruit and cast myself away from home. I am only hoping that just as God gave the world a second chance, my mother will take me back like the prodigal daughter I am.
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There is also the option to leave the baby with them. But if I do, what will people say? Will they call me a bad mother who deserves this misery? How would I even live with myself, knowing I left my child behind?
I need to make a decision now, but I don’t know how to choose.
—Mary
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