I am a student midwife in my twenties, and when I was 21, I gave birth to my first child.
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Maybe I fell pregnant because her father and I loved each other. We truly loved each other, and it was the kind of love that feels like a movie. Romeo and Juliet type of love. Loud. Sweet. Dramatic. Oh, it was beautiful while it lasted.
Somewhere along the line, something changed, and we turned into Tom and Jerry. We were always fighting, always quarreling over the smallest things, and although I cannot remember the exact moment it started, I know it became worse when I fell pregnant.
When I told him I was carrying a child, it felt like a switch in him was quietly turned on. He did not deny the pregnancy, and he did not question the paternity, but he changed.
I say a switch because he has a sister who dislikes me for reasons best known to her, and when she found out I was pregnant, she refused to believe the child was for her brother, even though she saw me around and always saw me with him.
As time went on, this man changed completely. He started inviting his ex into the house, and I even have videos of them. I saw it all, and I endured it all, because I loved him very much.
At the time, he was not working, so my mother catered for me throughout the pregnancy. My father was deeply disappointed in me, and almost my entire family was disappointed, but it was grace, just grace, that kept my head up.
Even with all that, I did not see the real pepper until after I gave birth.
This man never gave me a penny, not one, and my family did not complain because they knew he was not working. Later, he got a job, and he did not tell me, and I had to find out by myself, yet he still never gave us money for our upkeep.
He brought different calibers of women into the house, and till today, I wonder what stories he told them.
When my child turned two, I gained admission into midwifery school, and that was when I met another man. A man who values me. Bra Kwaku.
He hates to see me worried, and he has shown me what love looks like and what respect feels like.
Eventually, I relocated. I changed my child’s school. I changed everything, including her name, and I processed a new birth certificate bearing my new partner’s name as her father.
Now the biological father is back. He is seeking forgiveness and saying he wants to be involved.
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But I refuse to let him back into our lives.
Now I ask myself this question quietly, sometimes at night and sometimes when I watch my child sleep.
Did I make the right decision, or am I overdoing things?
— Juliet
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