I Haven’t Broken! The Perfect Wife
When my boyfriend found out I was pregnant, he left me. I guess I didn’t realize he didn’t love me as much as I thought. Neither he nor his parents, nor his sister—who was my close friend—wanted anything to do with their daughter-granddaughter-niece. I didn’t demand anything from them. Everyone made their choice: he found a new girlfriend, and I had the baby on my own.
At the time, my mother said, “Leave. I’ll let you back in if you have an abortion.” My mother raised me without a father. She didn’t want the same fate for me and had the right to feel that way. But I would never say something like that to my own daughter.
We’ll be there for each other, supporting one another. Our home won’t be filled with complaints about a lack of money or male assistance. I had just finished university and was working but managed to get a spot in a student dormitory and even secured a small flat. With my salary, I bought some furniture and household items. I had nothing to begin with. Healthy food for a pregnant woman? Forget it!
I was happy if I had enough for bread and milk. I experienced it all: exhaustion, tears, and terrible sleep deprivation. But I didn’t want anyone’s pity. I kept smiling. His friends would visit me, and I’d only speak well of him, refusing to dwell on the grievances. I needed strength for my baby whom I carried inside. Once, I heard the phrase: no one owes you anything. It’s blunt, but essentially true. Why should anyone save me if I’ve taken responsibility for my life and my child’s?
My daughter was born in December. We celebrated New Year’s together. New student friends gathered, played guitar, drank tea, and took turns helping with the diapers. My little one helped in her own way: eating, sleeping, and joyfully gurgling now and then. Many told me that our home was remarkably cheerful and light. Eventually, I noticed one student visiting more often and staying longer.
He was kind, talented, and, by the way, handsome. Alex was four years younger than me. I locked my heart and forbade myself from making any plans, simply enjoying every moment together. Then I met his mother. She asked if she could visit us, and on her first visit, she called me her daughter.
Now, my husband and I live in another dorm. Everything in the room is crafted by him. He tells me I’m the perfect wife. I reconciled with my mother, and she absolutely adores her granddaughter. On weekends, we visit his parents in a nearby town. There, my daughter runs to her other grandma, and they’re inseparable for two days.
I shudder to think: if I had somehow kept around someone who didn’t love me, would I have had any of this?! I would have only had a husband who didn’t see me, a mother-in-law who thought I ruined her son’s life, feelings of guilt, and tears on my pillow.
God gave me much more than I ever asked for.
