Out of nowhere one day, my boyfriend’s other girlfriend rushed to my house to insult the life out of me. She said I was sharing her husband with her and that I should let him be so she could have him all to herself. She insulted me, my family and my ancestors. When she was done with the name calling, she hissed and walked out.

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The neighbours were around, they saw what happened. They threw their version of the story around, some people added things that didn’t happen, some people kept to the original part of the story. That was how my boyfriend’s other girlfriend came to fight me.

I didn’t fight her, I didn’t retaliate to any of the insults. I was there before her, I had encountered many girls like her on the five year journey, there was no need fighting for a man who couldn’t respect me and leave me alone if that was what he wanted, rather than string me along.

We were actually getting close to getting married before that incident, and for me that was the last thing that broke the camel’s back. We have two children, they didn’t need us to be together to turn out well, so we made the choice to co-parent them.

Two years ago, my baby daddy came for the first born. “I want him to come and spend the vacation with me, he will return after the break.” I packed his bags, toys and shoes to go with him, kissed him goodbye on the forehead, and that was the last time I set eyes on my boy. He was three years old at the time.

I call him and he doesn’t want us to talk. I ask him if he has registered our son for school and he says he will ring me back on it. I don’t know where my son is, what he looks like now, whether his complexion has changed, if he remembers what my food tastes like. I have tried everything under the sun to get him to let me talk to my son.

His family has been involved, we have begged him to let me see my son so that I know he is well. All he gives me is excuses. He is not home. He is playing. I am not at home, when I go home I will let you speak to him. Many, many excuses.

Last Sunday, I got the chance to speak with him, and every mother’s worst nightmare happened to me. My son doesn’t remember me, his mother, the one whose breasts he suckled on, who has had sleepless nights over him. I am still getting over the fact that I called him by his name and he was quiet, and when I asked if he knew who he was speaking to, he said he didn’t know.

I am wrapped in pain and sadness that I cannot understand why he would do that to me. We were good, our relationship was good, until I got pregnant with our second and he started roaming about with other women. When it was time to leave, I left gently. What on earth would warrant him removing me from my son’s life?

My baby daddy doesn’t have any reason at all. I asked him. He was stuttering until we said our goodbyes. As a mother, I fear for what my son has been through in the past two years away from me. He is with his father, but that is different from a mother’s love.

I don’t know where he lives anymore, he relocated and fled town. No one wants to tell me anything. But I found something. My church prophetess is the one behind it. She wants me to move in with her and serve her in the church, which I am not interested in doing.

Is There A Man Out There Who Doesn’t Cheat?

Even then, if she is the one speaking ill of me to him, does he not know me well enough after the five years we were together to do better than this? How do I get my son back? I need him, his siblings need him.

— Millicent

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