The Secret Shrink

The long letter

     “So here you are looking for more just to see my pain. Or maybe because you hope that I have more to say but am glad you are here anyway. I hoped that you would want to know more, and I sure hope for the right reasons. If I was just another newbie who messed up by bringing a complication, then am really sorry you have to read this. However, if I meant more to you then am glad you are reading this. When I left for Voi, I was not sure whether I really wanted an open or closed adoption, but abortion was not an option.
            My mother had worked so hard to smuggle me from child marriage even gave up seeing me grow and was not afraid of what my father would do to her as long as I survived somewhere. I would rather give up my child to grow up away from me than lose a chance of ever meeting the product of my first love. Yes, Harry, you were my first love, and yeah, I valued you even then when I carried our child to term day after day going to support groups as a member, not a social worker so that I could get through nine months of pregnancy alone yet, I still valued you.
          I picked up my phone so many times to tell you all about it, but I could not get myself to forget the day you said I must abort and left me without hesitation. My pregnancy was rough emotionally but smooth medically, everything was fine and though my body was ready to bear child, my heart was still broken from your words. I did my best to tell our unborn child stories of the man you were at least until the words became sobs and I slept. The lady that Sister Anna entrusted to care for me was called Sister Margret, she was a Taita woman who was kind-hearted and did not judge me or once ask why I had joined the group. She sat with me by night when I felt alone and assisted me to knit a beautiful woolen set of a blanket, a sweater, socks, and a cap for our baby.
           I was part of a group of young mothers who had gotten pregnant and were willing to give their children to childless mothers for adoption. Each one of them had a story some were raped others were coerced by money, others rescued from childhood marriages but all of them had something in common, they were young girls below the age of twenty. I was the oldest of them and I was given a job as a trainer of hand skills in the rescue center for the older ones as the younger ones attended school. After giving birth they would leave and go back to their lives. I wondered where I would go, what I would go back to. Sister Anna had made sure I had a chance to come back to ACO, but I was not sure. The thought of seeing you again was just too much to bear but I would cross that bridge when I got there. Life at the center got easier as time went by. They taught us how our kids grew inside us and we played music for them and sang and danced and were encouraged to talk to them to create a bond.
          The doctor even said it was a bond that could be so strong that the children would subconsciously recognize us even when they met us later when they were older. When I was eight months into the pregnancy, I decided it was best if I had a closed adoption. That way our child would have a family set up and never know we existed. I however requested to see my child and hold it after it was born. I was even allowed a rare chance to name my child.
           The family that adopted it would give him or her another name but would retain the one I gave in my honor. The day came, and it was time. My labor pains began at 2 o’clock as I was getting to a beadwork training session with the newly arrived girls. Other girls I had met there had their parents mostly mums to be with them during labor and to nurse them back to health after. I did not have anyone in mind and did not plan to call anyone. My labor was prolonged and even by 9 pm when Mrs. Janet arrived for me, I was yet to give birth the pain was unbearable, and the nurses were starting to worry.
           Tears of joy filled my heart when I saw her, and she sat beside me as the doctor examined me. He said all was well my worry was what was preventing birth, but the child was fine. He was right, I was worried, then more than ever, I did not know who would raise my child, would he or she be fine, would it receive love, would the parents that adopted him or she be loving or give everything they had to ensure the child was well and cared for? All these questions flooded my mind, but I knew the doctor was right. If I did not relax the child would tire and it would be a case of c-section. I did my best to keep myself relaxed for my baby’s sake and I gave birth a few minutes past midnight after being induced twice and believe me being induced is no walk in the park I felt every drop of that solution go through my veins and every contraction was more painful than the previous. When he was born, my son was healthy, and seeing him took away all the pain. I had brought a new life into the world. The only thought in my mind was “I wish Harry would see you baby” and tears rolled effortlessly down my cheeks as they took away my son I would never see him again.
         I was not allowed to breastfeed him or see him ever again. It was the rule of a closed adoption. I remembered my mother and the sacrifice she made for my safety and I named my son Naoros after her father. It was a simple name, but it meant a lot to me and I would never forget it. By morning he was gone, and all Sister Margret could tell me is that the name I gave him was in the birth certificate, but the adoptive parents decided to shorten it to just Ros to hide his origin community. I was satisfied with that, I mean what more could I do, it was not up to me what my son was called, and I would never see him again. Sister Anna was there that morning as she was my witness to the adoption and she assured me though I never meet them she was sure they are a great family and would take care of Ros to the best of their capacity.  
           She also came bearing a letter of appointment to Jenny’s project. ACO management needed me back or my chance for permanent employment would be gone. I had barely six weeks to get better and get back to Nairobi. I could not believe I would see you again so soon after losing my son, I mean I did not want to ever see you again. I had just lost a chance at being a mother and all because you were too afraid of having a family and I could not manage it on my own, but I needed the job. My savings from the internship were running out and work would keep me occupied after all giving up Ros would have been for nothing. Working with you would be hard but I needed to face my fears and move on or, so I thought. The day I reported back, I was not sure how I would feel when I saw you again. Sister Anna had assured me our issue was handled with discretion, but I was still afraid how many people had you bragged to of how you won me as a newbie, had you told anyone I had gotten pregnant and aborted, all these ran through my mind until I saw you at your desk.
              My heart sank, and all the feelings came flooding back, the time we spent together, the love, the pain of you walking out, your words I must abort, and my newborn son’s face and cry when I gave him away. Tears rolled down my eyes and instead of walking in, I went to Sister Anna. She talked me down, and I was ready to stay and work, but I could not resist being angry at you. How could I, first you turn my world upside down with love then twist it all over again when you rejected me and our baby. What kept me going was the thought that giving up my son needed to be for something, so I woke up every day and came to work and cried every day when I came back home before sleeping as I closed my eyes to recall my son’s face. It fades further and further away every night.
            All I can do is hope that when the time is right I will see him again. Thanks to Jenny I actually have the courage to tell you all this. Even Jenny herself does not know I had the child maybe she will find out when she reads my message to you. I could not manage to tell her that the reason I actually broke down in her office was that it was his first birthday and I was not there to teach him how to blow the candles. Did he even have candles to blow, I want to believe he had and that he is in a loving family. I hope you never put anyone else through what I went through and I hope someday to get over feelings for you and move on. For now, know you are a father to a child named Ros somewhere in this world.
          Am not sure whether to sign out with love or anger or regret I do feel all these and more, but I hope we can put this behind, and if one of us leaves know you have left a mark in my life never to be forgotten. You taught me how to love and you also taught me the pain of heartbreak.

Yours truly
Sharon Amanikor.