Broken | ✓

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT: DISGUISED BLESSINGS

                           Ireti           

My body didn’t do well with cold, so even when people said they fancied fall because it was warmer, I only saw it as a prelude to winter. Canada had been good to me since I came like it did other Nigerians. In the past five years that I had been there, I witnessed the number of Nigerians trooping in doubled with each passing year. They were looking for a place that appreciated passion and creativity, Nigeria sucks out passion from you while others were in search of better paying jobs or like me, they just wanted a fresh start.

When I called my sister and told her, I was moving to Canada, she was shocked but like the ever-loving big sister she was, she welcomed me with open arms. I remember meeting her at the airport and breaking down. Her husband never made me feel like I was an inconvenience throughout my stay with them. When I told them I was moving out, he was sadder than my sister and made sure I got a beautiful place, that was how I landed a comfortable house. There were days the house felt a bit empty and days where it felt full. Life at least gives balance to things.

I wasn’t one to get up and decide to move across the world, spontaneity has never been my thing. I preferred to be closer to the people who hold a piece of my heart but the one who held the biggest piece squashed it and I guess that does something to you, gives strength to your legs that they are able to sprint across continents.

I had to learn to adjust, the thing about adjustment is you are forced to fit into a tiny space and somehow make it comfortable, after so many crying myself to sleep nights, midday breakdowns, I finally made it comfortable.

“Happy birthday Mummy” Tife snuggled me waking me up from my slumber.

“Urghh, is it my birthday yet?’ I asked stretching.

“Yes mummy” he smiled.

Each time he smiled, my heart did a thousand summersaults and asked the same question, how can you love someone this much especially when you use to hate him?

I fainted during one of my lunch breaks after coming to Canada and was rushed to a nearby clinic, when the doctor told me the result of my tests, I freaked out. Not only did I fall in love with my rapist, I was carrying his child. I tried so hard to get rid of him but he wouldn’t budge. It killed me to go every ante natal that my sister forced me to and hear that the baby was doing fine. Ante natal was hard for me because I saw a lot of expectant mothers with their significant other holding their hands with eyes assuring them everything was going to be alright and after their checkup, they would leave with glee plastered on their faces. Their babies were doing alright, the irony.

I wasn’t capable of breaking my
pregnancy news to my parents so mummy Tee did it, she put it on loudspeaker and I could hear the disappointment in my mother’s voice, it broke my heart. When I was almost due, she flew to Canada and held my hand throughout my entire labor. That was something I would later learn as a mother; when your child needs you, you push sentiments out the window and just be there for them.

I had a long sixteen-hour labor, I hated the child and it was stressing me, throwing harsh punches wherever it could lay its hands on. Every contraction reminded me of the necessity of protection. Always use protection, that is the first thing they teach you in sex health classes but I was too high on love to remember.

I just wanted the baby out so I could give it out but my mother refused. She was happy performing her omugwo rites. It was like the baby knew I didn’t like him very much and he took it to heart as he would cry the minute he was in my arms and cry throughout the night so I couldn’t sleep. The night crying thing felt intentional, like he was getting back at me for trying to get rid of him. That only intensified my hatred for him. My mother had to stay longer than she planned because baby and I weren’t getting along.

Every mother I met said they fell in love with their child the minute the doctor or nurse handed him to them but I wanted to dump mine in the dumpster when they gave him to me. I never understood the love they talked about, never understood why Mummy Tee’s face lit up when her noisy kids walked in or why my mother stuck with a child that had caused her heartache but that afternoon when nobody was around to tend to the baby, I walked to his cot and when he saw me, he smiled. He smiled at me with bright brown eyes, it was his teethless smile that got me.

Like a choreographed move, I picked him up and kissed his chubby cheek and he giggled and I swear I had never heard rhythm as beautiful as his laughter. Right there like an epiphany, it hit me that I would lay down my life for him and only him and I finally understood why my mother named him Boluwatife meaning as God wishes. I wasn’t a strong believer like the rest of my family, I just knew God existed but with Tife I learnt that God’s plan is the best and that perhaps there are blessings hidden in the crevices of curses.

He reminded me a lot of Jide, he resembled his father, his brown eyes, his pointed nose and pink lips and sometimes when he laughed, it felt like four-year-old Jide laughing, Tife was four-year-old Jide, it hurt like hell whenever I thought about Jide but when I glanced at Tife he magically took the pain away. I learnt how to come up for breath because of a four year old boy.

Motherhood is hard, it is constant worrying and yelling coupled with headaches and sometimes sleepless nights but I wouldn’t have it any other way because whenever that child wrapped his arms around me, my spinning world falls into a calm state. We don’t know it but most things are already in their best form.

“Thank you, baby,” I cuddled him and kissed his cheek.

“Mummy Tee, my cousins and Uncle Calvin are here, let’s go” he dragged me out of bed.

“Happy birthday” They chorused.

“Sorry we couldn’t get thirty-two candles on the cake so we decided to get one. We know you love candles” Calvin said fondling with the lighter.

Small gestures of love: the fuel that keeps us going. We live for these small moments.

“Thank you” a tear fell out my eye. Canada and having a child made me soft.

“Come blow out the candle” Mummy Tee said.

“Make a wish Aunty” Mummy Tee’s daughter said.

“Yes mummy, make a wish” Tife beckoned.

“These kids are getting too white abeg blow this candle” Mummy Tee chuckled and I blew out the candle.

“Yay” they raised their hands clapping.

“Happy birthday Jide” I whispered to myself.

At least now we know that Ireti is not dead. Took her five years to speak to us again. At least she seems fine.
Anyways pray for me this unilorin is sooo cold and my body doesn't do well with cold(that's how I got the intro to this chapter I guess sometimes I pour a little of myself in the stories I write)  you know the drill. Like and comment. Ciao my babies 😘😘😘
And yes they have a child together😩 and e be like Jide no even know.