What are three objects you couldn’t live without?
- A Phone
- Clothes
- Food
The day had been a gentle balm, a soft breeze after a storm. A successful antenatal check-up, a confirmation that both mother and child were well, filled us with a fragile sense of peace. We shared a hearty meal at her brother’s house, laughter echoing, a temporary reprieve from the tension that often clung to us.
Later, back in our room in Babesa, I immersed myself in the world of trading, while she drifted into a peaceful sleep. But when she awoke, the familiar shift occurred, the subtle change in her demeanor that always signaled trouble.
Dawn broke, the rumble of traffic seeping through the thin walls. I scrolled through my phone, trying to absorb the complexities of crypto trading, a distraction from the unease that was already settling in. She rose, went to the washroom, and then, the familiar sound of a phone call. It was her sister, the confidante to whom she always poured her anxieties.
“Pregnancy is such a nuisance,” she began, her voice laced with frustration. “The baby is not coming out sooner.” The complaints flowed, a torrent of dissatisfaction. “They told me to go to a breastfeeding class, but I’m not going. It’s so frustrating traveling again and again.”
At first, I tried to ignore it, to dismiss it as the normal anxieties of late pregnancy. But her words, sharp and relentless, began to chip away at my composure. “It would be better if the doctor induced,” she declared. “The health workers aren’t doing anything. They just touched me and said it’s normal.”
Then, the obsession with the ultrasound, the concern about her belly button. “I was expecting an ultrasound scan. My belly button is going back inside.” I had explained the reasons, but she remained unconvinced, consumed by her fears.
“No mother would have taken this long to deliver a baby like me,” she shouted, her tone ugly and accusing. It was as if she believed she alone bore the weight of pregnancy’s hardship. Each word was a blow, a reminder of the constant, gnawing question: why was I always the one to suffer? This time, her bitterness extended to the very child we were expecting.
“If you feel this way,” I said, my voice low and strained, “this will be our first and last child. You’re always giving me a toxic vibe. I won’t let you feel this way next time.” Disappointment and remorse washed over me. Why was this my life?
No matter how hard I tried to maintain calm, she always managed to create an atmosphere of tension. I began to feel a deep sense of isolation. Even those closest to me, I realized, were not truly with me, but merely around me.
