The day I announced my pregnancy to my husband, our house help was there. She had been with us for two years and might have noticed our struggles to conceive. We had been married for almost five years without a child, and during those five years, I had suffered two miscarriages.
My husband hugged me and lifted me off the ground. That was when Akos, our house help, walked in. She smiled shyly and left. We talked about the pregnancy for a little while. I was happy, but not too happy because it had happened before, and I hadn’t been able to carry the pregnancies to term.
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My husband whispered, “This one is the one. We are having this baby.” I responded gleefully, “In Jesus’ name, we are having this baby.”
We sat beside each other for a while and then went into our bedroom to continue our conversation there. The next day, while I was at work, Akos called to tell me she wanted to leave. I asked where she wanted to go, and she told me she wanted to return to her parents. I asked her why. She couldn’t give me a reason. I asked if she had already told my husband, and she said no.
So that evening, when we got home, I told my husband about it. He asked her the same questions, and Akos still couldn’t answer. I told her she should think about it a little more. If, after a week, she still wanted to leave, I would prepare some money and add a few things to see her off.
Her attitude toward me changed from that day. She wouldn’t do the basic work she was supposed to do until I reminded her. When I did, she would give me a look before grudgingly doing it. One day, when I complained, she stood up to me and said she had already told me she wanted to leave, but I wouldn’t let her go, so I should stop complaining.
I was shocked. This was a lady I had taken in and treated like my sister. We were the same age, so I introduced her to others as my twin sister when she came to live with us. We did everything together, even though she had been brought in to help and was being paid. In less than a year, I convinced my husband to increase her salary twice because she had told me she wanted to start a business when she eventually left us.
We had never fought until her sudden desire to leave. So that day, I told her she could leave the following day if that was what she wanted. I called my husband and asked him to come home with some money so we could give it to her and see her off.
My husband came home without the money and instead tried to settle the issue. I told him I didn’t want anything to do with her anymore, so he should send her packing. The next morning, when we woke up, she was waiting for us in the hall. She knelt and begged us to forgive her. Suddenly, every bit of anger left my body. I simply told her not to repeat such behavior because I wouldn’t tolerate it again.
I was six months pregnant when my husband traveled. One day, I got stuck on the sofa while trying to get up. I called this girl to give me a hand, but she never responded. She remained in her room until I stretched myself, held onto some chairs, and managed to get up. When I checked her room, she was lying in bed, laughing while chatting on her phone.
It happened again when I asked her to help me get to the hospital. She walked past me and later claimed she hadn’t heard me. One evening, while I was in the bathroom, I heard her talking on the phone. Her phone was on speaker, and the voice sounded like my husband. It was around 10 p.m. I had already spoken to him, and we had said our goodnights.
I listened very carefully and concluded it was him. I wondered why she would be talking to my husband and what they could possibly be discussing. I decided to investigate. I asked to borrow her phone to make a call. When she handed it to me, I called a friend on speaker and slowly walked with the phone to my room.
I checked the call logs first. She had spoken to my husband just a few hours earlier. Then I opened WhatsApp. Oh my God. I shouldn’t have. If I had lost my pregnancy, it would have been my own fault. I kept saying, “Wow,” opening my eyes wide and forgetting to close my mouth. My heart raced. I thought I was going to collapse.
My husband had gotten her pregnant and convinced her to have an abortion. A few weeks later, I got pregnant, and she had walked in on us celebrating. When she first said she wanted to leave and later changed her mind, my husband had paid her to stay until we found someone else. She had even asked my husband to get her pregnant again because she wanted something that would keep them connected forever.
The business she had said she wanted to start had already been funded by my husband, and she had started it. Her mother was managing it in her hometown. I tried to calm myself, but I couldn’t. I tried to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. I gave her back her phone, shut my bedroom door, and started trembling. I called my elder sister to come and get me, and she did. As I was leaving, I told Akos, “You can leave now. My husband will join you when he comes.”
She gave me a blank look, glanced at her phone, and I saw a hint of shock in her eyes.
I sent the screenshots to my husband after I settled in at my sister’s place. I asked, “Can you explain this?” He didn’t answer. Instead, the next calls came from his mother, then his father, and then a pastor who had been praying with us throughout our struggle to have a child. They had all heard the details from my husband. They called to ask me to forgive him before I had even heard from him.
It took him three days before he could speak to me. He couldn’t deny a single accusation. All he said was sorry, and he promised he would never allow himself to go down that path again.
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I remained with my elder sister. When I gave birth, I went to live with my parents. We named the child together. We went to church together for the thanksgiving service. Even after the naming ceremony, I continued living with my parents. Everyone wanted answers from me. My dad even asked me to go back home. I told them, “I’m only allowing him to be a father. He hasn’t failed in that role. But as my husband, that will never happen again.”
He takes care of his child, and I take care of myself and my emotions. It was a long road to healing and recovery, but I’m doing fine now, especially after finally getting the divorce I wanted.
—Mercy
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