I was twenty-three when I got pregnant. It was a very hard call for me but I was ready to risk the ire of my parents and keep it. I spoke to the man responsible. He said he wasn’t ready to have a child. I asked why. Because he had everything.

He had a good job, a beautiful apartment and a car he bought not long ago. He was good to me when we were dating so I was ready to do it for him. He said no. He begged me to get rid of it. He promised the future looked brighter without the baby in the picture. I listened to him. I loved him so much that I did it for him. He took me to the hospital. A few hours later we were done.

A little over a week later he broke up with me. According to him, I was trying to trap him with a pregnancy that was why I was insisting on giving birth. Time healed. I grew up. I found another man who loved me for who I was. We hit it off and got married as soon as we could.

We’ve been married for the past seven years but I’ve not been able to conceive. I’m running into my forties. We’ve tried many options. We’ve travelled the road less travelled, medically. We’ve added prayers. We’ve consulted many men and women of God but here I am, empty and drained.

I’m too tired to try anything else. My husband is tired too. I see his face and I know he’s trying something diabolic. He’s either getting another woman pregnant or he wants to leave me. I can smell it in his speech. He’ll leave tomorrow and he’ll be right to leave. He’ll impregnate another woman and I won’t blame him. He has tried and he’s only a man.

Did Marriages Last Longer In The Past?

When I’m outside, I pretend I’m childless by choice. I put a strong face on and laugh along as if I don’t miss anything. I’m missing a lot. I miss having a child before my age looks back at me and says “No, you can’t do it!

—Mayflower

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