I Hate That I Love You

She hugged him tightly, almost failing to believe her eyes that this bundle of joy had come out her. With tears in her eyes, she kissed him softly, caressing him with one hand, whilst using the other to hold on to her husband.

“Honey, we made this!” She said, fighting back the tears.

It had been a long and rough journey. After a number of miscarriages, she wasn’t excited when she discovered she was pregnant for the fourth time. She didn’t even break the news to anyone. Having been failed a number of times, she just sat there hopeless and not giving thought to what was growing inside of her.

Bu the weeks turned into months and she got past the scary trimester. She thought she’d lose it again but no, the little man grew on and on until she couldn’t keep it a secret any longer. Of course, they talked.

“We hope it lasts this time.”

“Oh boy, but why so many failed pregnancies…”

She battled the defeat and bore on. Cravings, swollen feet, morning sickness. She bore it all until 9 months done.

Even then, she was unsure of what was going to happen. What if she couldn’t make it, or what if he didn’t make it? The doubt and fear gripped her but she pulled through and 24 hours later, she held him in her arms. Her first son.

It was done. She became a mother.

She sung him to sleep, played with him, stayed up all night while others were sleeping. She watched every development of his limbs, muscle. She studied him intensely. She found love.

Then he started growing up.

The more he learnt to walk, the further he walked away from the values imparted by mummy. The more he learned to smile, the more he charmed the innocence away from him.

He kept late hours, flattering innocent girls; making them feel like they were the only ones when he had multiple chats open. He begun to drink and smoke. He begun to party and play hard. He found it difficult to do this thing called ‘school’ because it was a sheer waste of time. Mummy and Daddy provided everything, what’s the point?

He became disrespectful, rowdy and foolish. He became the cause of many of his mother’s tears.

Where had she gone wrong? What hadn’t she done? She thought of all three lost babies. Would they have turned out like this? Was it the reason why she had to wait long? Was this a signal from above?

She cried again, this time not for the birth of a child but for the rebirth of her child.

Sometimes the things we love will bring us heartache; sometimes the things we love will not love us back. Sometimes, even after doing all that we can, things will go south.

Love is a risk, life is a risk. Will you love knowing fully well that the one you love wont love you back? Would you invest knowing that things may plummet tomorrow? Are you willing to give your all for something or something that will or may never work?

All real life is taking risks; sometimes the love you feel for what will hurt you is the only drive you have.