From the very start of our relationship, we knew what we wanted. We agreed not to have sex before marriage. We agreed not to be alone in places where we might be tempted to do it. We agreed we could kiss with our arms folded behind our backs. You know what the hands can do and how far the fingers can travel. We agreed not to skip church for no reason. Three months into our relationship, the only agreement that was left standing was “Don’t skip church for no reason.” We had broken all the rules we set for ourselves because ‘body no be firewood.’
When we were about to get married he said, “We’ve been very stupid before. We didn’t do a lot of things we said we would do but we can forgive ourselves for being stupid. We are going to get married. We have to be serious. We have to know what we want from marriage and from life and just go after it right from the start.”
Among other things, we agreed to have two children.
I said, “If we are going to have two kids then they better be a boy and a girl.” He said, “If we are going to have two kids, they better be human beings. Gender doesn’t matter.” “But I want a boy and a girl?” I said. He said, “I do too. It’s nice having both gender but come to think of it, it doesn’t mean anything. A kid is a kid. What’s important is raising them well so they have a better life in the future.”
So we agreed; “Two children. A boy and a girl preferably but if we get the same gender twice, we still will call it a wrap on childbirth.”
Our first child was a boy. The pain I went through giving birth to that big-headed boy was too much that I even told myself one was enough. I had a vaginal tear and had to go through severe pains for a couple of months. I told my husband at the hospital, “I think one is enough. Let’s keep it like that.” He laughed. He said something else that I’ve forgotten.
The boy started growing up and being cute so I forgot the pains I went through while giving birth to him. I wanted more. I wanted more cuteness and a lot of baby smiles around the house so we started working towards the second child with all diligence. Two years later, the second child came. A girl. I was over excited. The fact that she was a girl made everything easier. A boy and a girl, what more could I ask for? Nothing. So we started having conversations on how to not have more babies again. We agreed on using birth control but the question was “Who?”
I was only twenty eight and wasn’t ready to start taking drugs or getting insertions for the rest of my fertile life. Plus, family planning has had some sneaky side effects on certain individuals in my family. My senior sister tried it and had very serious complications that nearly ended her life. Not her alone, one of my favorite cousins from my mother’s side bled for so long after using birth control drugs. At some point we were scared we were going to lose her. I’ve also read a lot of materials that talk about the effect of long-term birth control. I wasn’t ready to do it and I wasn’t going to mess up my hormones for his sexual gratification. He didn’t like the idea of vasectomy so we agreed to use the natural birth control.
I did all that I could. I monitored my cycle and painstakingly took a lot of notes. I didn’t want it to fail but you see, a woman’s biology is something you can’t understand sometimes. I don’t know what happened but I got pregnant again when my second child was only eight months. I didn’t even know how to break the news to him but it was a pregnancy. I couldn’t hide it forever so I told him.
He was angry. He insulted the hell out of me that day. He called me lazy. He called me impractical. He called me daft; “Simple tracking of a cycle you couldn’t succeed. What kind of head do you have on your neck?” All pains from the insults aside, I was relieved he didn’t call for abortion. We had our third child. A girl and guess what…she was the prettiest kid I’ve ever seen. My attachment to her is something special. She is my sweet mistake.
So we returned to the family planning conversation again. This time we were not ready to take prisoners. We were going all out not to have kids again. My stands were the same. I wasn’t going to be the one to take the drugs. He wasn’t ready for a vasectomy so he said, “I’m going to use condoms from now on.” I responded, “That’s more secured than this natural tracking thing.”
I didn’t want excuses from him, so I bought the condoms, and looking at how long he was going to use it, I bought a whole box of condoms. I placed it in the drawer next to our bed, to avoid excuses. I didn’t want to hear “The condom is far away so I can’t go and take it. Anytime I suspected something was going to happen, I placed one under his pillow. No excuses and he kept to his word. Whenever he placed his leg on me at dawn, I ask him, “Do you have your guard on?” Just so he wouldn’t forget.
A year and a half after the birth of my third child, I got pregnant again!
One night, I don’t know what came over him, in the middle of the act, he himself removed the rubber. We were in the middle of the act so you can understand why I didn’t ask him questions. I lacked the voice and sanity to ask. I was at a tight level where talking wasn’t practical but I trusted him. I trusted him to withdraw. Yeah, withdrawal wasn’t his specialty. He almost always failed but this once I was trusting him to make me proud and he tried. But it was too late. By the time he came out, everything was already gone.
He said, “Kindly take some drugs tomorrow. Just this once wouldn’t kill you.” The next morning, I took it but what would be would be so I got pregnant again.
When I told him I was pregnant, he looked as though he didn’t hear what I said. I repeated, “I’m pregnant. I tested this morning and it was positive.” He retorted, “All you know is ‘I’m pregnant.’ Every day you’re pregnant but you won’t do family planning. Even if we pour hausa kooko in you, the next morning you’ll say you’re pregnant. We are not having this one. End of this discussion.”
I’m a calm child. I’m the sort of person who will say sorry to you even though you’re the one who did me wrong but things were different that day. Maybe it was because he said we were not going to have the baby. I was suddenly possessed with anger and I immediately started giving it to him. I said so many things I shouldn’t have said. It became give and take and as most men do when they are faced with tough discussions, he stormed out of the house.
When he came back in the evening, he came with an ultimatum; “If you want to have it fine but remember, I’m not going to be responsible for anything concerning him or her. It’s yours and yours to take. I said in my head, “Look at him and his too known bi. If you don’t want more kids, go and do a vasectomy and be free.”
True to his words, he didn’t do anything concerning the pregnancy. He wouldn’t even offer to take me to the hospital for antenatal just as he did for the other kids. When I gave birth, he came around just because my parents were there and his family was there. He played along until they were gone. I had a boy. I’ve had three kids already but this one hit differently. Maybe it was because of the fight surrounding his birth. He was like my first ever child after going through several years of barrenness.
My husband was always looking for an opportunity to pick up a fight with me but I didn’t give him that chance. I was so concentrated on raising my kids than to watch his child-like attitude. Yes, he wasn’t making any expenses on the new boy but it had always been like that. The first two kids that he was happy about, I was the one paying their fees most often so this wasn’t a new thing to me. I only thought he was looking for an excuse just to act stupid.
A year after the last kid was born, he came telling me, “No matter what I do the kids are mine. They are my blood so I can’t pick which is mine and which is not but from now on, I’ll pay fees for two and you’ll pay fees for the rest.” I agreed, just so there would be peace in the house. He started acting normal again and one night he started coming close for sex. I asked him, “Have you had the vasectomy?” He said no. I asked again, “Do you have a cd?” He said no. I asked again, “Are you ready for a fifth child?” He said no.
I picked my cloth, turned my back to the wall, and slept.
The next day he reported me to his parents. The following day, he reported me to our pastor. When all of them couldn’t convince me to do the birth control, he went to my parents to give them an ultimatum that if I don’t accept to use birth control, he would have no option but to divorce me. I told him, “Not having sex with your wife is also a form of birth control. You can use a condom. You can do a vasectomy or you can even withdraw so why is he not doing any of these but want me to insert drugs under my skin or take pills to mess up my hormones for the rest of my fertile life?”
He wouldn’t do anything to stop something he himself doesn’t want to happen so why should I be the one to do it? Who taught him that kind of selfishness? Even at the expense of my life?
He’s not ready to change his stands. Again, he had stopped paying for everything concerning the kids. That doesn’t bother me. Luckily, I’m in the position to do it on my own so I do it without complaint but one day soon, I’ll be too tired to talk or to continue fighting with him. When that day comes, I’ll gather the little I have left and leave for my own good. I’m not ready to die for someone who doesn’t know the essence of living for himself.
—Agnes, Ghana
#SilentBeads