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It was never my intention to let my son grow up without a father. It wasn’t part of the plan. It wasn’t my intention to run away from my responsibility, according to the guardian, a father is very essential to any child.
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I had thought I’d be prepared fully by the time it happened, by the time I brought a child into the world.
But I guess fate had other plans for me.
I myself, was raised by a single parent, my mother.
I had sworn to give my unborn children the best family to be raised in. Complete, with father and mother.
It was never my intention to watch from the shadows, the woman I love lynched psychologically by society.
To let her, for nine months, alone and afraid, walk the ragged path of teen pregnancy, and for ten years raise our boy.
I had wanted to be there every step of the way, to hold her hands, rub her back, cook her meals, bathe her, support her, be a father to our son, do all the things a man is supposed to do for his woman.
But I guess fate had other plans for me.
The night it happened, her father had sent her out of the house for returning home late.
“you’re behaving like your crazy mother.” he had said.
“I try to bend you so you won’t have trouble in your home as a woman in the future, but you have chosen to go wild. Your mother left this house. The whole world knows that. They know that you’ve become exactly like your mother.
You cannot make anybody brand me a failure in parenting. Instead, you will leave my house. Go and look for your mother wherever she is. Carry your malaya lifestyle with you and leave my house. ”
And with those words, he had flogged her out into the streets.
It was a Sunday, just like today. My mother had gone for an all night prayer session, so I was home alone.
When she called, I went out to meet her, and brought her home.
I held her in my arms in the darkness of the room as she cried.
I had cried with her, our tears uniting.
And in the silence of the room, it had happened.
Like our tears, our bodies had united.
One month later, in a bus leaving the Solot, just before I threw away my sim card, I had read her text one last time.
“The result is out. It’s positive. I’m pregnant. I am finished. My father will kill me. Can I see you tonight, please?”
The boy is ten now. My son.
I watch his mother, the woman I love, take him to and from school everyday from my car.
I am back, and I wish to make things right.
I know there’s no way I can make up for the last ten years, but I want to try.
It was never my intention to be absent from my son’s life.
It was never my intention to watch from the shadows, the woman I love suffer, get suspended from school, get labelled a prostitute, get disowned by her father, and get maimed psychologically by society.
I know there’s no way I can make up for all these, but I want to try.
I have to.
My mother used to say “never let the fear of the consequences of the wrong things you’ve done, stop you from doing the right thing.”
My mother has never been so right.
It was never my intention.
As much as it may look hard, never run away from your responsibility as a father.
One of the most psychologically painful things that a child doesn’t need to go through is to be raised by a single mother yet the father is still very much alive.
If ever you made somebody pregnant and left them to languish and be branded ‘a loose woman’ because of getting pregnant for a non committed you, please go back and fetch your child, and give the mother respect and peace.
A prayer made by a broken-hearted mother of a fatherless child will never make you have peace in your own marriage (if at all it’s there.)
Man up and be the father your children want you to be.
Written by Eninu William Tel: 0783-642052
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