This might be a very long walk through memory lane....so take a seat, grab ur reading companions and read along.....
He was handsome. Or rather, he is handsome. I think it's the first one but Im not sure. And Im a sucker for handsome men. Back then I was a sucker for handsome boys because a man stands for himself and is responsible not a coward. Boys are cowards. This one was a boy.
I saw and I liked and one night during one of the many drunken nights I came to have, I confessed and we had the first of many nights together speaking with our bodies and hands while our mouths performed other more deserving tasks.
In the heat of the moment (who on earth came up with this phrase? Lol) we did not use protection. I went back to my place in the morning and later on he brought me emergency contraceptives which I took. It was stupid I know. We used protection from then on until one night when the shenanigans of the first night were repeated.
I think I wanted a baby or maybe I didn't. I don't know why I pushed taking the pill to the next day. And the next day passed and it completely escaped my mind until afew days later when I remembered that night. I had not seen him since then and we'd argued over something silly so he'd been sulking. It was too late to take the pill. I was pregnant I knew and I loved the idea although I was scared.
We were not dating. We had sex frequently, he slept over, we'd hang out together with his friends, we did everything people did except date. And I was pregnant with no idea how to tell him.
I told my bestfriend and she said to chuck it. My bff said he'd support me whatever road I chose to walk, and most of my friends said that too.
Telling my mother was out of the question.
I completely embraced my pregnancy and enjoyed most of it. A month and afew days into the pregnancy I told the boy. He said we'd get married and raise the baby together. I believed him. That night we made love.... Slowly and he played with my tummy happily saying he was playing with his baby. That was my happiest memory of us.
A week later he asked me how much it was to abort. I didn't answer him. I moved away. I would raise the baby alone.
I took time informing my close friends. People talked because I was changing, my skin was softer and glowing, my breasts were fuller and Id begun adding some meat on my bones.
I spent time looking for unique baby names, I shortlisted some I liked and after a while I stuck with one. A girls name. I knew it was gonna be a girl with his lips and eyes and too lightskinned because we both were, him more than me, his toenails because mine are just a disaster, my body so she could eat all she wanted without worrying about her weight, my fingernails coz they are oh so beautiful, our combined intelligence, my black hair, our love. I dreamt of us as a family. I loved the idea. I was wrong to dream.
He was sleeping with a girl I'd considered my friend. One of my closest friends. They had not bothered to tell me. Not a word it so I found out through the grapevine that was so effective.
Then that night in April came and I was determined to talk to my mother. I was pregnant and still in university. The father of the baby I was carrying had moved on, so I was on the road to being a single mother. I had no source of income and I was probably a huge disappointment to her. I didn't care about what she would say or do.
Id tell her because it was the right and polite thing to do. Whether she accepted the baby or not Id still have to figure out how to raise my daughter. I figured out I owed her that much. I'd know what to do, we'd be ok.
We never were ok because that night I lost her. The pains started in my room and got worse through the night. At the hospital I started bleeding as the nurses watched and did nothing. A friend of a friend who was in medical school at said hospital helped me but eventually I lost her.
In the midst of all the pain, the crying, vomiting, cursing, calling out to my mother, I gave birth. I gave birth to a living soul, premature but breathing and with a beating heart. I felt her heart beat against the walls of my birth canal ( polite word for vagina). I felt a connection. One so strong I cried and a bond was formed. A bond that was stronger than the one I'd had with her before she'd been born. She was seven months. Two months premature. Then one nurse snatched her, held out the pink and almost lifeless thing that was supposed to be my baby and told me to take one last look at her... The form resembled an infant in all its glory. She did not cry. I don't know if premature babies cry. My girl. My baby. The nurse announced that it was a girl but there was nothing they could have done they said.
I don't know how long my baby breathed after that but that was the first and last I saw of her. That's the only memory I have of her. Pink, slippery and an almost baby.
That night when I fell asleep I dreamt I was holding her in my arms and she was suckling my breasts. I woke up with a start. I lay on the hospital bed and wished I'd die and be with my little girl. Many nights I longed for death.
I didn't cry. I didn't do much. Friends made sure I ate and took my medication with water and not alcohol. I built a wall between me and that pain and that reality.
I learnt to hide that pain behind a smile, behind the illusion of being strong while I was all broken on the inside. I was heartbroken. I was lost and I didn't have anyone to teach me how to grieve, or how to live with the loss of a child.
It was during this time that I knew my friends for the people they were in my life. The true ones and the fake ones. There were times when I wanted to breakdown but there was always someone strong for me so I taught myself how to be strong for myself too. These are the people who took me through that period by praying with me, spending time with me, holding me, loving me, begging me to see life beyond the pain, worrying when I was too quiet.
I remember the nights I lay awake unable to sleep because I just couldn't stand the dreams of her. The thoughts of her. The Memory of her little fingers and little legs and head all pink.
I have not moved on. Its been 4years, 11 months and 10days since that Saturday night in April.... Almost five years.
Someone asked me why I just couldn't move on from the pain that losing my baby brought me. I didn't answer because they would not understand the pain of losing a baby coz she's never lost one. If she had she would have known I had no choice of forgetting because that was not a story, I couldn't move on because this was a scar that would be with me for years to come and there is no way I just can't shut it out because it ain't a dream. It was my reality. It is my reality.
I turned 26 this year and I have baby fever. I never thought I would have it but I do and Im scared. Im scared that maybe It will happen again. I wouldn't bear it a second time. Im scared because I know there is a possibility that I might not conceive again. And Im scared because I might become a mother and replace this baby I lost. I don't want to replace her. I will tell my children about their sister who was born prematurely but the doctors refused to step in and help. I believe if they had wanted her to live, she would have lived to be an exceptionally beautiful, intelligent and funniest girl alive. She would have gone places that girl. Instead she's somewhere I know not and she probably hates being alone in the dark just like me.
Everyone told me to be strong and that everything happens for a reason. Im yet to get the reason why she had to go. I certainly would love to know why she was denied life. I'l probably never get an answer but It's a question I'll always ask.
I look back to that period and I know that I don't want to be there again. Im at the point where I have told God that I need a child but if He is to give me one, she will have to live or when He takes him or her , He can take me too so that I can go be with my baby. Im sure He understands me perfectly now and Im just hoping He will do whichever He deems fit for me.
I love her everyday that passes. I wonder what we would be doing or how I would have adapted to being a mother. But God took her and as much as I have not even once forgotten her, I have learnt to appreciate the cards God deals me. Its part of life much as the pain has become part of me. I have learnt to take it a day at a time.
Losing this baby changed my life. A part of me died with her and I know that no matter what happens, I will walk through it with God holding my hand. I bet He knows not to deal me that card again. I hope He doesn't.
Quote: you're gone little one, away from the world and me and I might not live in your world but you are alive in mine. Ill never forget u. Ur loved AJ.
Xoxo .
Ps: It's April, the month I lost AJ and it's like something clicks in me everytime It gets to this month. I can't help how the memories and emotions flood back after so many months of trying to deal with them without really confronting them.
It's hard having to grieve after all these years, living life knowing that she might have been the first and only child I would conceive but I pray that God will give me a child when He deems it fit to do so. I only hope that He will let me enjoy the joy of pregnancy and also the joy of motherhood. This is the month when Im reminded to be grateful for all that I have and to know that God gives and He takes and that we make the plans and He executes them. I always pray that April passes by faster so that I can atleast smile without feeling the heartache that engulfs me or laughing when I know all I want is to cry. April knows that I always ask it to bring me a little joy to compensate for the sadness and pain it brings and Im sure this year it won't fail me.
We all have a story. This is mine. Im glad I can atleast allow myself to write it without crying and without wanting to murder someone. It's a step forward. I will heal one day but I know that even then This little angel of mine will have my heart and my love.
