Three years after marriage, we had no children or a child. I was not worried. Some things take time, other things take a hell lot of time, I knew it. I felt having children was one of those things that was going to take time so I was patient. My wife wasn’t having it. She felt something was wrong even when doctors had told us we were ok. She prayed, she took medicine, she watched her diet, she did everything right and waited.

I was going through the marriage with joy in my heart always because I knew a day would come when I wouldn’t be able to enjoy my wife. Children will come and take over. The attention would no longer be on me. She would love to stay home and take care of them so we won’t be able to go out together. All those things told me I should enjoy it while it lasted.

Weekends were the best days of our lives. We would go through social media, looking for events that promised fun. When we found one, we took our bath and left the house for the program. She didn’t drink. I knew how to drink a little so while out, I could get tipsy and all. Life is for the living so we did just that.

Three years without a child changed the chemistry and colour of our marriage. She became reserved and called off plans. Everything became the reason we were not having kids, so she would rather stay home than go out there and have fun. She would go to church on weekends. She would stay awake to pray with pastors. She became overly superstitious.

She got pregnant. She was so happy she turned the house upside down. She smiled a lot, did things with happiness in her gait, she glowed when the lights were off. She did everything for the baby. Before she touched any food, she would read the label to see if it was good for the baby. She gave her a name and communicated with her when it was just a fetus.

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Two months after pregnancy, things started going wrong for her health. She lost her appetite, she lost her zeal, she was always tired. She went to the hospital more often than she went to church. There was something wrong most of the days. Because of that, our intimacy began to suffer. She didn’t want to have anything to do with me. She left our matrimonial bed to sleep alone on the couch every evening. She said it was comfortable there.

The desires of my flesh got the better of me so I started looking outside for sexual fulfillment. I met a lady who didn’t care that I was married. We hung out often until she took me to her house one day and it happened. I didn’t enjoy it. I said I wouldn’t do it again but then told myself, “Maybe it was because it was the first time. Let me try again.”

We did it again and again until it became every weekend. While my wife was home using her body as a house for our baby, I was out there, entering an empty house. It went on for months—I think three to four months. One day the lady left me but I had nothing to lose so I went back home with wiped lips, as if I hadn’t tasted anything from the outside.

My wife gave birth in the morning. I was the first to go in after delivery. She was sleeping. The baby was lying peacefully by her side, also sleeping. My mom came around. Her elder sister also came to visit. Hours several minutes later, she woke up. My wife didn’t talk awake. The nurses came in and asked us to excuse them. We all went outside.

Hours later, I was called in; “We lost your wife but the baby is OK.”

“No, you didn’t lose my wife. She was ok hours ago. I saw her with my own eyes. Maybe it’s another person you’re talking about.”

I called my mom and my wife’s sister to come in. The same thing was repeated to them. “They were like “How?” I echoed their voices, “How? Ask her for me.”

Even when I saw her body lying still on a stretcher, I told them, “Look at her face. She’s still breathing. She’s not dead.” While others were wailing and crying, I was looking at her eyelids checking to see if she would blink.

“She blinked. No, she didn’t.”

I would wipe my face with my palm and try again. I could swear I saw her chest moving. My mind kept telling me she was batting her eyelids. Right there, I started going through the stages of grief.

Denial; “No she’s not dead. She can’t be dead.”

Anger: “I will never forgive these people for killing my wife.”

Bargaining; “If only I didn’t cheat on her, she would have been fine by now.” “God knows best. I can’t question what he does.”

I’m currently at the depression stage though my wife was buried five months ago. From depression, they say the next stage is acceptance. I can never bring myself to accept that I’ve lost my wife, a friend, a cheerleader, a mother and everything. I’m comfortable being depressed because I deserve it. I see myself as selfish. I’m not worth the kind of love my wife gave to me. I blame the doctors and later come to blame myself. I alternate between anger and depression every day. They say I should seek help but I don’t want it.

A Guy Caught Us Doing It And Started Raising An Alarm

I never knew such loneliness existed until I lost my wife. The baby is doing just fine. She lives with my sister-in-law, my wife’s elder sister. I visit them every weekend. I send them money, everything I have and come home to starve. She tells me I should use the baby as a consolation. “She gave birth to herself before leaving so you can have a comforter,” she told me. All I want is my wife and no one else.

My dad called me home not long ago. He asked me to be a man and look for another woman to keep me company. “She’s gone. The living should learn to live.” I nodded and left his house.

I’ve stopped picking up his calls because I’m scared he will bring it up again and I will insult him. I will do everything to bring her back but what is everything?

They say moving on is everything I need. But that’s not the kind of ‘everything’ I want right now. I want the ‘everything’ that brings dead wives back to life so we can begin again where we left off, with or without a child.

Arnold