Here we are for the second Sunday with a story of a woman taken from the site http://blog.pianetadonna.it/lestoriediagatha/
Today’s story is that of Alida, who chose to be a mother without the support of her partner.
Enjoy your reading. 🙂
When a few months ago I had to accept the harsh reality of a partner who abandoned us, leaving me speechless, I understood that the sooner I could get up the better it would have been not only for me, but especially for the creature inside of me that was coming to life.
As the intimate naivety of a child flowed unaware along the peaceful succession of the years of my childhood, suddenly the course of events derailed unearthing roots of deep remote anxieties. I lost my mom in my early adulthood.
Wrapped in an artificial lavender smell, I speak softly from a corner of her coma when suddenly, on the day of my twenty-first birthday, she is awake! The feeling of extreme happiness is destined to disappear within a few days. She lets go and we have to accept living without her.
Me, brother, sister, dad and grandparents. The family has lost its center and every obstacle seems insurmountable. But you cannot lose heart and the integrity cultivated in previous years shows what we are made of. All. Grandparents, transformed from the first moment by a pain that will never end, roll up their sleeves and welcome us into their protective arms. Athe the age of 50, our father ends up moving to the north, plunging in a new job, in order to guarantee us a future suited to his expectations. But that’s another story. My brothers slowly set their lives on their own.
As for me. I was trying to build my life, I was looking for an identity but I felt lost. I mirrored myself in the faces of a transfigured humanity, in the beauty of art and lived in love that stretched my heart with my hands. Men who, in the moment of pain, run away looking for shelters still unknown to me. And I find myself looking at the lighted windows in people’s houses, dreaming of the warmth of a family…
I loved him. I loved his bitter look, of someone who suffered in life. He came from a distant country, unknown to me. Charming and scary. His round talk of a language that adapts mellifluous sounds to an Italian spoken almost perfectly. His silence, absorbed and often distant, makes me think of how far away that distant land can be. I live with his lies and his declared love. Time passes by in everyday life to keep going that is oppressed, by precarious jobs and unforeseen unimportant incidents. I am looking for a normal, imperfect but normal life! Yet unceasingly the magma of the dormant volcano simmers and burns inside my desire to be a mother. When I finally decide to talk about it with him, on a darkly magical night, my baby does it before me! He does not ask, does not give advance notice and decides to live. He finds me ready. I am already excited without knowing it yet. It is dark, but that night you could catch a dull smile on my face and a vibrant hope pushes me towards sleep.
However, you cannot dream forever and the following morning I have to face the reality of a bewildered, frightened, terrified man who lets a few syllables out of his mouth to ask me to give up our child! I object. It is not an accident! No morning after pill. At any cost, I feel I can let life flow. He looks at me gently. The more the days go by, the more hope is transformed into an abnormal and formless expression that oscillates between the belief and the perception of something that is changing in my body. I am at the airport waiting for my return flight when I decide to buy the pregnancy test. In that public bathroom my hands tremble, alone, I no longer contain emotions. My head is spinning, everything turns when I read and reread the result a thousand times: positive! They announce my flight. I try to contain myself, while I would like to scream it to the world. I wipe my eyes, a quick look in the mirror: I look OK. I get on my plane.
In Milan he awaits me closed in on himself. And in his cap. Every time I see him with that hat, it makes me think of him as a child. But now the tears come down unstoppable, copious, of joy, of anxiety, dizziness … and I jump around his neck! I’m pregnant! He holds me tight and I feel THE FROST on me. Something is wrong, something is not working right, but he reassures me, accompanies me to the car, stuns me with a “I love you”.
We feel good that evening, as if nothing had happened, we tell each other the rest of our bits of what just passed, that loving face of his, his innocent smile, his caresses … All of this is reassuring. Yet I cannot forget that sharp, cold feeling that stuck inside me at the airport.
And in fact, shortly thereafter, the situation goes out of hand… The shutters just raised, in the clear light of awakening. “I don’t want a son, I will run away, I don’t want to be a father, I can’t stand it, I don’t want to do like my father, I’m afraid, I, I, I, I.” I look at him incredulously. The words stuck in the throat. What then, what words? But he presses. It is a swollen river. “You can’t do this to me, you have to abort, you don’t love me, you only love your baby, you sacrifice us, you don’t understand that you still have nothing inside, you have to abort, please do it for me”. It is like a hurricane that devastates everything in its path. And after that, only silence. I realize that now it’s me who is devastated.
Yet within me life was stirring, small, but very powerful. And life struggles for life. Always. Thus, ambivalence was born in me. I requested the “voluntary” termination of pregnancy and obtained the horrible piece of paper with too much ease, I turned it over and over in my hands, for endless long hours, flooding it with tears and dreaming of putting it in a drawer, keeping it with care and show it in the distant future to the one who would be born. My son.
He’s just scared, everyone tells me, he’s shocked, it’s normal. He will change. No, I know it’s not like that. I know, even when I see him melt into a clear smile while listening to the beat of the little heart. A flicker, but then again ash everywhere. Every attempt has failed. And I find myself alone, no longer alone, but mother and no longer daughter. The load on my shoulders weighs, I will no longer be able to give in, give in to despair, give in to sadness, I can no longer surrender to the uncertainty of the future, nor can I live day by day. I can no longer dive into the spirals of dangerous relationships, in the grip of the rambling flow of emotions, everything will have to be carefully evaluated, every step, every breath. I feel like I’m in a cage. But the reins of my life are there, close at hand, I just have to grab them and start riding. I will learn slowly, step by step, and then I will learn to fly. I have always been waiting for this moment: I will be a mother.
If you want to tell your story and share it, you can contact me by email or in response to this post.