My name is Chidi and I’m the last female child of my mother whom when I think about, I get the taste of bile in my mouth. I wasn’t always a good girl as I became promiscuous at some point in my life which I regret and am paying dearly for.
I was not always spoilt as you might think, on the contrary, I was maltreated to an extent. My mother always chose my elder brother and treated him differently, you could say she spoilt him instead of me.
I accepted it when I was a teenager and when the time came to go off to the university, I took it by the horns. I got involved with men, I wanted the attention and affection, and I got money and gifts from them too, I was wining more or less, and my mother wasn’t even bothered that her 19-year-old daughter would leave for school with N20,000 and come back with N200,000. I didn’t have a job and she knew.
In my 3rd year, I found out that was I was pregnant. That was my third pregnancy, and I wasn’t going to keep it. I went to the “spot”, where we usually had it taken care off. That day, I almost lost my life. I felt pain like I had never felt before and bled for days. I was just scared that I would die. I went back to who I had turned my back on, God and asked him to help me. I promised him I wasn’t going to have another abortion again. He kept his part of the bargain.
While all of this happened, I had not told my mum. I told only my best friend, Doyin, and a guy I eventually started dating, Nnamdi.
At first, Nnamdi didn’t care about sex like every other guy I dated. He just wanted to see me be a better girl, a better woman, and he helped me. I know I changed. I was happy. Doyin was proud of me once again. I even stopped hating my mother. Some where along the line, Nnamdi and I started having sex, and as expected, I got pregnant again. I told him, he accepted it and we began to make plans to go tell our parents. I had not told my mum about Nnamdi, so I didn’t even know what to expect.
At the end of the semester, we went to our separate homes to tell our parents. My mother rained insults on me, called my brother who helped her to rain more insult, and then took me to Nnamdi’s house to see his parents. His father said that they had accepted their son was the father, but they were not going to take responsibility for my baby and if Nnamdi decided to go with me, they would disown him. I was heartbroken, as Nnamdi of course, still needed his father’s help at 22.
My surprise wasn’t over, as my mother drove me to a hospital. As we sat there in the car, she turned and looked at me and said, if I wanted to keep the baby I could, but not under her roof or with her money, that I would have to move out and fend for my self. If I was going to still be her daughter, we were going to take the baby out. I cried, told her about my promise, begged her that I would start work and leave school as I was already 4 months gone. She clearly told me to make a choice, as my plea fell on deaf ears.
We drove home 4 hours later. I bled again but I was alive, wondering if I had given up my last chance at motherhood. I looked over at my mother and didn’t know if it was fear or hate I felt for her. Would I be able to do that to my own daughter? How am I supposed to even look at my mother and act like no love has been lost?
I know I made bad choices, and I have to live with them but she was supposed to be the one person I could trust, now I cant even smile at her.