I walked round the house after he left for work. I could still smell him; He has a most a most pleasant male scent. He smelt so good that sometimes it made me dizzy with desire. I loved waking up to that scent. I always knew he had been in a room because his scent pervaded the room long after he left it. It was his essence and it brought back memories, memories of happier times; memories of fun, laughter, sweet lovemaking, memories of a husband who loved me and could do absolutely anything for me. Memories are all I have now; I wish with all my heart I could turn back the hands of time.
It is almost impossible for me to shake off the look I saw on his face when I was revived in the hospital. Each time I recall that look, a heavy weight settles in my heart and the bitter taste of pain lingers in my mouth. It was not a look of anger, but of deep despair, my handsome husband looked like I had betrayed him. Anger would have been easier to handle, but the sadness in his eyes was more than I could bear. I felt like I had stabbed our love to death. What was I thinking? How did I think I was going to pull it off? I just assumed that he would come around once he knew; I thought it was not a big deal. How wrong I was, the look on his face said it all, I had hurt the man I loved with all my heart beyond redemption.
“Oh God! Please no! Let it not be beyond redemption”
I have dreaded to say that phrase, but now that it is out, it rings true.
My mind travelled back to the conversation we had on the beach some months after he presented me with the most beautiful engagement ring. We saw a couple walking down the beach with a cute toddler in tow. They cut a perfect picture, the type I dreamt I and Lade will make. On the spur of the moment I told Lade I couldn’t wait to make lovely babies with him. The speed with which his
“Only two lovely babies, honey” came out should have alerted me to how sensitive the subject was for him but in typical Bunmi fashion (worked on my parents everytime) I was sure I could convince him to change his mind.
“But I want a house full of children” I whined to a very distraught Lade
“Babe, I have tried to explain to you several times, two kids are all I desire, two children I can lavish all my love, care and attention on”
“Baby! They will both be lonely, can’t we have three at least, if not the four that I desire, after all I am the one carrying the pregnancy”, I said with a pout
Lade didn’t even budge, I had never lost an argument to my soft-spoken fiancé before now, but surprisingly he insisted on us having only two kids. I backed down but didn’t give in; I just concluded that when we got married it would sort itself out.
Lade had told me several times about growing up in a house full of kids, he is the second child in a family of six. He always had this look on his face that I could never decipher whenever he talked about growing up, a cross between pride, shame and pain. He worked his way through school and continued to see his siblings through school too, although he never spoke ill of his parents, I was very sure they took a lot of poor decisions that made their kids suffer. I never could understand his tireless outlook to life. He is never one to be caught idle, no wonder he became a huge success. When I met him, I was a self absorbed, spoilt kid. Being an only child, my parents doted on me terribly; I lived a very sheltered and pampered life, a life very different from his.
I met Lade at a gym I used to frequent. One day I noticed a handsome guy walking in my direction but he walked past me like I wasn’t even standing there, being an avid attention seeker; this hurt almost physically and also attracted me to him fiercely. I decided to find out his schedule from the gym instructors; thus began my shameless quest for his attention. My chance came sooner than I thought, but in the most embarrassing circumstance imaginable. There I was doing my thing on the treadmill, when he walked in, in a bid to get noticed I increased the speed, missed a step and landed on my rear. As I struggled to rise, a pair of strong arms appeared to assist me, I looked up to see Lade’s worried face peering down at me and short of crying at my embarrassment in front of the one guy I fancied, I busted into laughter and he joined in. That was how we became friends.
Lade saved me from myself, many times his was the voice of reason. He did not write me off as spoilt, he would not let me get away with petty behaviour, even my parents noticed the improvements, and needless to say they loved him to bits. Best of all he loved me like I didn’t know I could be loved; he always left me better than he met me. I tell him he brings out my best; he tells me I show him his best.
Trust was a given in our relationship, but all I wanted was a third child, after our second lovely, perfectly formed daughter turned two, I couldn’t get the thought of another child out of my head, watching Lade with the kids didn’t help matters, he was so good with them. I had been on the pill since I put to bed, Lade wanted an outright sterilization, I vehemently disagreed and told him if he insisted he should go and get one done on him.
I noticed babies everywhere I turned, the supermarket, the salon, the club even in church. Cute babies were everywhere around me, I had forgotten about my excruciating four hours of labour with Temi’s pregnancy I just wanted a soft cuddly baby to love, I had enough love for a house full of babies. Lade could not understand my obsession; yes obsession was what he called it. I couldn’t understand his stubborn resolve to have only two kids, we could afford to have ten if we chose to, but my darling Lade only wanted two. Rather than hang up my baby craving gloves they became glued to my skin.
I didn’t plan to stop taking my birth control pills, it just happened one night and suddenly it felt like a good idea, I skipped it for a couple more weeks and that was when it happened. I was elated and anxious at the same time. I couldn’t share my news with Lade and it was pretty difficult for me because I told him everything, I couldn’t tell my mum because I knew what she would say. My secret was mine solely and with the passing days it bore down on me heavily. I had to lie or explain off my frequent exhaustion. Thankfully this pregnancy skipped the nausea phase so I kept up with my lies for much longer than I expected until that fateful day.
I had been out shopping, and even with my umbrella the sun was mercilessly scorching. I was quickly dehydrated and very dizzy, but I still managed to get myself and my shopping home before my collapse act. Lade usually played tennis on Saturdays, so I didn’t expect him to be at home when I got in, but he was and witnessed it all.
My husband hardly talks to me now, I am so alone with the baby I craved for, thankfully my love for my unborn baby is still very potent, takes my breath away sometimes. I can never blame him for the strife at home, and yes I want a boy, I have not done a scan, but I am so sure he will be a kind and loving boy like his father. I will be due in three weeks, and welcome my handsome son into the world. I hope when Lade sees how much he looks like him, he will forgive me because I have tried everything else. I have wept, kept silent, written love notes and even brought in the parents to appease my Lade. He says he has forgiven me, but I miss him, I miss his laughter, his trust, his smile meant for me alone and his touch, I miss the man I married. Somebody tell me how to get my husband back.