Letter from an unfortunate mother

Dearest baby,

I am sorry. Sorry for not letting you enter this world. Sorry for not keeping you inside my womb. Sorry for not giving you the privilege of calling me Ma.

It gives me deep excruciating pain whenever I think about you or whenever I see a mother playing with her child.

You know what, when I first saw you in the ultrasound image, a sense of immense joy overtook me. I was imagining how would I feel holding you in my arms, caressing your little pink cheeks, touching your little fingers. I wanted you more than anything else in this world. I was so determined to have you that I was ready to forgive your father for his infidelity and overlook his wannabe-philandering ways.

Your father was anxiously waiting outside the radiologist’s room. Obviously he didn’t want you because he has other “priorities”. Still I gathered courage to ask him later in the car way back home, “Will you marry me? ” ( because I still live in an antiquated society where a baby is legitimate only after you get married)

I hoped he didn’t feel that marrying young and having you would end his freedom. It meant that I wanted to travel and see the world, but with you and him by my side. It meant I still liked partying, clubbing and drinking, but stumbling home with him after midnight. It meant that I wanted to kiss your and his forehead every morning and every night before bed.

If you want a candid answer, then it’s NO because of the type of relationships you had in the past but… ” 

Those lines of your father injured my heart so much that neither did I hear what he said after that nor I declared my wish to bring you to this earth. I wish how I felt at that time could be put into words.

Those lines threw my mind back to the time when I found your father sleeping with another woman and he was asking for forgiveness. Again everything flashed back my mind. How he touched another woman when I left no stones unturned to meet his physical and emotional needs. How he whispered sweet-nothings to her when I worshipped him like God. How he promised her to marry her when he told me that he was not in any relationship with her. How he pleased her when I was sitting on my bedroom floor attempting to silence my sobs. I used to pray that the night doesn’t end so that I don’t have to wake in the morning to face the world for yet another day. All these years when I was with your father, I was so devoted and dedicated that I forgot that I had liaisons in my past. And now that fact became sole reason for him not marrying me????

My perplexed mind didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or express anything at his hypocrisy. Never in my life, I felt so helpless as I desperately wanted to run to my parents and best friend’s arms. The fear of losing them and they being judgmental didn’t let me tell about you. And my child, that’s the mistake I did. One life lesson – people who love you unflinchingly never judge you. 

My parents knew that in my head, I was just married to him. I got used to the idea of having him around. So they accepted him even though they knew he was the wrong man. Loneliness caused me to forget why I walked away in the first place. It caused me to forget that he didn’t deserve a second chance… A chance that made you coming into my life a mistake instead of a boon. How would a man like him know what motherly instinct is? How would a man like him know how shattered and emotionally battered your mother was when she realised that you would be thrown out of her life the next day?

Believe me, when I lost you I was so broken and alone while your father was glad to wash his hands off from anothe liability. He didn’t realise why I was crying even. And even though he took me in his arms to pacify me, I didn’t feel his arms as warm and comforting as I used to feel before.

I decided there and then that I won’t put myself through any more of this ordeal. I won’t be with your father anymore, not that I don’t love him but I refuse to be lied to, to be disrespected, or to be mistreated.

I realised that all dreams are just illusion and it’s time to stop believing in fairy tales. Sometimes even though we don’t want the same things anymore, the broken dreams simply haunt us. I won’t be able to make his favourite potato cheese balls or dosa with groundnut chutney anymore. I won’t be able to watch Shinchan or fly a kite anymore. I won’t be able to do a lot of things anymore as they would constantly remind me of some of the best moments spent with him.

It’s tempting to give up but I must believe in myself. I must understand that my brother and my best friend, who are constantly taking pains to cheer me up, love me unconditionally and I have to live for my parents even though I am a dead person inside. It takes a greater amount of energy to hold my emotions than to express them. I feel like ending my life every time I remember you. I have always considered you as a symbol of my intense and pure love towards your father. Nothing can replace those feelings and I don’t want to get over them either.

Lots  of love,

your  grieved  mother

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