The father of my child taught me a lot about myself and life in general. I learnt that you should never believe people at their face value neither should you believe what they say. As I grew up I had goals and ambitions. It was never in my dreams to imagine that I would be a single mother. The two words I never thought I’d be labeled as. As a little girl, my future family looked like a fairy tale wedding followed by two perfect kids. There was no room in that fantasy for pregnancy before marriage, let alone raising my kids alone. Yet here I am raising my girl on my own. And I learnt you can plan your life all you want but your life will go according to God’s plan.
They say everything happens for a reason, I’m yet to know why I had to go through this and why I had to suffer so much. I don’t regret my daughter at all but as for her father, well, he has the good side and the very bad side so I’ll say somewhere deep down I regret having met him. It all started at my weakest moment and I thought I’ve met the perfect guy. It was fun and games until I got pregnant then reality started dawning on me. I’ll say throughout my life I never would have thought I would cry so much. I was tortured and frustrated emotionally and I prayed and cried daily for God to give me strength. I had suicidal thoughts not once not twice but I got through it, thanks to my family and friends for the amazing support. I cut him off when I was about six months pregnant and tried to push on alone. It wasn’t an easy decision to make because I loved him so much. I wanted to think he will change but I kept thinking what my dad always told me, when someone shows you who they are, believe them. It was a long tough journey. As I write this my goal in this is not to hurt or upset anyone. If this can reach one person going through something similar to what I have been through, and can help them, it makes this more than worth it.
Delivery time came and it went well with a little complication for me. We got discharged from hospital after three days. After two days at home my daughter developed jaundice and we had to be admitted because her bilirubin levels were too high. I was in pain and fatigued but as much as I needed him to offer to help I couldn’t ask him for help. I thought it would be common sense to him to see that his daughter was sick and admitted and I hadn’t healed from the delivery and stitches so he would automatically offer to help because after all he kept saying he really loves me. All he was doing was posting holiday pictures with his other woman. I had to be strong for me and my new born. We were admitted for two weeks. These were the longest days of my life. He never bothered the child was sick he never called nor texted to find out how we were doing. This was another eye opener that he probably never loved me after all. I’ll appreciate that he got her a medical cover like I said he has some good side. Although I remember him lamenting that he is travelling to his home and he will not be able to process the card. I was so disgusted because you know what, it’s not because he will miss a flight or a bus if he rescheduled his trip. How could he be so inconsiderate to suggest I organise some time and go get my daughter a card? I was just two weeks post-delivery admitted with my neonate and he expected I get time off from the ward and rush to get her a card. I cried and cried. I started processing a letter through my employer so that my daughter could be run through my card because a lot of tests were pending and I was not in the emotional state to argue with her father over medical cover. To my surprise two days before we got discharged he showed up with a medical card. At least he tried and did something. But that was it, he never bothered to ask for any details nor when we scheduled to leave the hospital. It was none of his business.
While at the hospital the nights seemed even longer. The baby wouldn’t sleep. I’d stay up singing and rocking her praying for morning to come so my sister can take over so that I can rest. I hated everything about the hospital. I wanted to be home and ok. My baby wasn’t responding to treatment as expected so we had to stay longer. After we got discharged from hospital I told myself that I had to accept the reality and move on and bring up my daughter. He didn’t care if we got discharged or how we would get home. He did not call for any updates on the baby’s health. This really shocked me. How could he say he loves his daughter yet not care whether she got out of hospital alive or dead? I cried myself to sleep daily. The nights were really long and exhausting. I wanted to wake up and my baby is all grown. It was tough.