I am not Broken! The Perfect Wife
My beloved left me when he discovered I was pregnant. I guess I failed to see that he didn’t love me as much as I thought. Neither he, nor his parents, nor his sister, who was a close friend of mine, wanted any part in their daughter-granddaughter-niece’s life. But I made no demands. Everyone made their choices: he found a new girlfriend, and I had the baby without a husband.
At that time, my mother said, “Leave. I’ll let you come back if you have an abortion.” My mum raised me without a father, and she didn’t wish the same for her daughter. She had the right to that opinion. Still, I would never say anything like that to my daughter.
We would support each other. In our home, there wouldn’t be any complaints about the lack of money or male help. I had just finished university and was working, managing to get a place in student housing and eventually securing a small flat. My pay allowed for some basic furniture and household items. I had nothing, not even juice or fruit for a pregnant woman!
I could just barely afford bread and milk. There was exhaustion, tears, and terrible sleeplessness. But I didn’t want pity. I smiled. His friends came to visit, and I spoke well of him, not focusing on past grievances. I needed strength for the child I carried. One day I heard the saying: no one owes you anything. Harsh, but essentially true. Why should anyone rescue me when I’ve taken charge of my own life and that of a little one?
My daughter was born in December. We welcomed the New Year together. My new student friends gathered to play guitar, drink tea, and took turns helping with the baby chores. Little Vera helped as much as she could: she ate, slept, and happily babbled in between. Many commented on how lively and joyful our home was. One day, I noticed a student visiting more often and staying longer.
He was kind, skilled, and also handsome. Alex was four years younger than me. I told myself not to make plans and cherished every moment we spent together. Then I met his mother. She asked him to arrange a visit and, on the first day, she called me her daughter.
Now, my husband and I live in a new dorm. Everything in our room is his handiwork. He says I’m the perfect wife. My mum and I reconciled. She absolutely adores her granddaughter. On weekends, we visit his parents in a nearby town. There, Vera runs into her other grandma’s arms, and they are inseparable for two days.
I shudder to think: if I had somehow clung to someone who didn’t love me, would I have this now? Just a husband who doesn’t see me, a mother-in-law who believes I’ve ruined her son’s life, guilt, and tears into my pillow.
God gave me far more than I ever asked for.
