We set out to have two children, a boy and a girl. We prayed about it, but our prayers didn’t materialize. Our first two children were girls. My husband didn’t want another child. He said we should keep them that way, but I told him I wanted to have a boy and name him after him to show appreciation for being the best thing in my life.

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We had a third child, and it was a boy. We hadn’t even finished celebrating the birth of the boy when the next pregnancy happened. It caught both of us by surprise. It was like we were asleep when the pregnancy sneaked in on us. I didn’t want to tell my husband immediately because I didn’t know how his reaction would affect me.

I wanted to have this final child and then seal my womb, but when I told him, he said, “Enough of them. We set out for two and got three, and now a fourth? How are we going to take care of all of them?”

“God will do it,” I responded. He retorted, “If you want it, it’s between you and your God, since He has told you He would do it.”

This pregnancy brought a lot of fights between the two of us. I was intrigued by how it happened. I said if it could happen this way, then God had a special plan for it. He or she could be the star of the family, so we should have the baby. My husband said no. No more children. My reason was sentimental at best; his reason was logical and came from his perceived lack.

For some reason, he felt he had made his point strongly and that I was going to listen to him. I didn’t, and I carried the child to term. My husband stayed away from everything concerning the pregnancy until I gave birth. When I complained of pain at night, he turned and faced the wall. When I needed money for the hospital, he didn’t care. Even the night I was in labour, it took a lot of complaining and begging for him to listen and help me get to the hospital.

Another girl came along. Our marriage had lost a lot of its colour, but I felt the child would arrive and bring everything back because she was going to be so cute that my husband would have no option but to love her. Just when he was warming up to her and getting close, disaster happened.

The signs were there right from the start, but we thought she would grow out of it. You know babies and the different things they come with. When she was almost a year old and still couldn’t do the basic things babies her age were doing, we knew there was a bigger problem than we had anticipated.

At first, we thought her situation could be solved with local herbs. My mother-in-law came with a lot of them. My mom also brought herbs from a trusted source. My dad brought prayers, and later his dad brought holy water to drive the spirit possessing her away. Nothing worked, and she was later diagnosed with autism.

Something we thought she would grow out of became something she would grow with. The day the doctors took us through what to expect, I was watching my husband. He wasn’t listening. He looked like a man in an oven, waiting to escape without turning brown. When we walked out, he didn’t wait for me. He went straight to the car and started it while waiting for me.

When I got in, he drove off. “Won’t you say anything?” I asked. He retorted, “This is between you and your God. You chose to listen to Him instead of me, and He gave you what your heart desired—the shining star of the family. It’s all yours to keep.”

Again, I felt that as time went on, he would change his stance and do what was best for the child. I don’t know what makes me hopeful, but sometimes I’m right and sometimes I’m wrong. This time, I hoped I would be right. For two years, we fought about who was supposed to do what and pay for what. My husband stayed true to his words. He never gave a dime to support the child.

He woke up and got the other kids ready for school, leaving this one as my sole burden. I asked him, “How long are you going to do this? Forever? Can you? Because this child is going to be here until she grows, so get your act right.”

I think that infuriated him more than it solved the problem I was trying to address. He left one morning and never came back. It was his mother who reached out to tell me her son wasn’t coming back to the marriage. He had confided in her many times, even before the child was born, but she had advised him against leaving. This time, he wasn’t listening.

I wanted to talk to him and hear it from him directly, but he refused to pick up my calls or take his dad’s phone so I could speak to him. I was feeling the pressure of being the only one taking care of four kids. I reached a breaking point when I called my mom and cried to her. She came to live with me. I told her, “Please do everything to bring my husband back. I’m not going to agree to a divorce.”

My mom got closer and whispered, “Would you say yes if he asks you to ‘escort’ this child? The only condition that would bring him back?”

I answered, “No, my husband won’t suggest that. I know him too well. He wouldn’t say that.”

After a few months of him not coming back home and still insisting on divorce, my mom and dad called him and suggested it as a solution. “We can peacefully ‘escort’ the child to bring peace back into this house. Will that be okay for you?”

He didn’t take the bait. He said he would rather stay away and help from a distance. He would send child support until I was ready to accept that he wasn’t coming back. I cried. It was the only time I accepted that I had lost my husband. Anytime he came home to pick a thing or two, I tried my best to say something to him, but he walked past me without even looking at me.

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He has a few things left to pick from this house, and all that will remain is me and the children. My mom comes and goes. I’ve tried getting external help, but the financial burden is more than I can bear, so I’m all alone in this struggle, all because I didn’t listen to him.

Not that I regret anything, but I wish things had turned out differently. I wish God would come through and calm the storm before our boat sinks. I haven’t given up hope on my marriage. One day, I believe, everything will be alright. The kids will have their father here, and I will have my husband next to me, weathering the storm together.

—Maabena

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