Pregnancies are gifts from God. Children are a bundle of joy! While some women go through hell because they could not deliver ‘the gift’, others get burnt because the bundle came too soon! This is most probably the reason why abortions do happen in our society. Nobody wants to risk being sent away from home or having to halt their studies because they got a child.
I, though, didn’t want to do an abortion. I chose to carry my child to birth; a decision that was costly. When my mother found out that I was pregnant; she was brutal! My mother hit me with all sorts of things, throwing sufurias and mwikos at me. She beat me senseless asking me who the father of my child was. Aaarh, the father. He was someone in my office (yes, I am a 28-year-old working daughter). He had even brought me a ring and he claimed he would marry me. Marry who? The moment I told him I was pregnant aliniruka. Love can mean the world but sometimes it can be just but a word. My boyfriend, the father of my child, called me a whore. He blocked me in WhatsApp na akazima simu. Who is still saying they got played? Have you seen me!?
Back to my mom. When I didn’t tell her who my father’s child was; she made it her personal duty to pack all my clothes into my suitcase and a few green paper bags. All this time I was being insulted; my mother called me a slut, a whore, she said I was not her child and she swore she would kill me. All my belongings were thrown over the gate and I was grabbed by my hand and dragged away from the place I called home. My father didn’t even say a word! He didn’t even look at me. The gate was shut behind me and I was left penniless with a life inside me and tears to sooth my face.
I went to the house of my mothers best friend to ask for help. She was merciful enough to lend me a place to stay and used her own finances to buy me porridge. “Your child needs this. You need to be strong.” she would say. I spent so many months there and my time to giving birth got near. Once my mom visited her best friend’s house and I was forced to hide inside the bedroom where I pinned my ears to the door trying to hear her speak. She said that I was working somewhere in Isiolo that was why I wasn’t around anymore. Oh, how she praised me! I broke down in tears remembering how she disowned me, her own firstborn daughter.
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When she left, however, the woman who had been housing me said she couldn’t do it anymore. She was scared that if my mom found out I was hiding here, she might report her to the police or cause drama for her and her husband. She convinced me that my mom’s anger had subsided and I took my things and left her place. I wanted to go look for another place to start my life and walked towards the stage but this clever woman had been watching me. She called me and directed towards my father’s house. I had to comply. Please note that this was barely an hour after my mother had left her house.
I opened the gate and found my mother outside in the lobby. Insults followed insults as she asked me what me, a whore, was doing back in her house. This time my father spoke though and he told her to stop mistreating his daughter. At least I was still somebody’s daughter I was accepted back home and it was here that I gave birth to my baby girl! My mother didn’t even step into the hospital where I was for the first time exposed to the pangs of motherhood. I love my daughter and I would not have it any other way! I would never have aborted but I won’t deny that during the insults, I wished I had.