Was this the kind of farewell I wanted for my unborn twin boys? Cold hospital floor with heavy smell of antiseptics. Tight lipped, unfriendly faces. Hideous looking equipment. An uncomfortable couch. No eulogy.
Oblivion; they would never be remembered except by me. I imagined they would have had their father’s eyes, the kind that pierces one’s soul, his caramel complexion, his towering height which distinguished him often. They would have been loved by their father. I wondered if this was the right choice. Did I really want to do this?
It started subtly, I think on my part. He was truthful from the outset. He wanted a relationship with me. Marriage was even on the table. He was more than twice my age. He had a wife and three girls.
For him, it was love at first sight. I did not believe him. I thought he was deluded. I had been taught never to have any form of relationship with married men, not even friendship. So, what he was suggesting was repugnant. I did not expect to fall in love with him.
Then, I got pregnant. I was unprepared. I was not ready to be a mother. I had carefully laid out plans of who I wanted to be. I envisioned myself at the peak of my career ten years from then. More so, my parents and friends would never accept him. They would rather renounce me. I could even hear their chastising words. I did not tell him. How could I inform him of my planned cruelty for an unplanned condition? What would he think of me?
It was the most difficult decision I made. I think about my boys every day, of what they could have become. I weep for two great ones the world never knew. I do not know if that was the best choice, but I know it will always be the most difficult one I will ever make in my life.