LOVE AFTER THE PAIN

Hope Kicked For The First Time In The Library

I am 25 weeks pregnant today, and I am writing this from my library floor on 8th Avenue, where loud love started.

Doctor said at 25 weeks, baby can hear loud sound. That means Hope Loud Williams can hear me reading every day.

This morning Hope kicked for the first time inside the library. Not small kick. Real kick. Like she is saying, "Mama, I am here, I am listening to story time."

I was reading to children. The book was "The Girl Who Loved Books." My belly was big like watermelon. My voice was loud. And then she kicked. I stopped reading. I put my hand on my belly. Tears came down my face.

Mama Nkechi was cooking in the back. She ran out and shouted, "Amara! Baby kicked?" All my library girls came. All the children came and put their small hands on my belly. One little girl, Chiamaka, said, "Aunty, baby wants to read too."

I laughed and cried at same time. Because this is what loud love is. Not quiet love inside house. Loud love inside library where everybody can feel baby kick.

Jayden was not there. He was at work at his office. I video-called him. He saw my face with tears and said, "What happened? Are you okay? Is Hope okay?" I said, "Your daughter kicked. For the first time."

He left his meeting. His boss was talking. He said, "Sorry, my wife's baby kicked, I must go." He drove 20 minutes to library just to feel her kick. When he came, he was breathing fast. He kneeled on library floor. He put his big hand on my big belly. He waited.

But Hope is stubborn like her mama. She did not kick again when he put hand. She was sleeping. Jayden waited one hour on library floor. Children were reading around him. Mama Nkechi gave him water. Then she kicked. Strong kick. Jayden cried. A 6-foot man crying in children's library because his baby kicked for first time. Everybody clapped.

Doctor said at 25 weeks, baby now has eyebrows, eyelashes, hair. Baby can hear loud sound. That means Hope can hear children laughing and shouting. She can hear Jayden saying every night, "Goodnight, my Hope Loud Williams. Daddy loves you loudly."

My scar still hurts sometimes. Not body scar. Heart scar. Because when you are pregnant after pain, you are scared every day. You think, "Will I be good mother? Will my past pain make me bad mother? Will my baby feel my scar?"

Last night I told Jayden, "I am scared." He held my belly and said, "Amara, your scar is not your fault. Your scar is your strength. Our baby will not be scared of your scar. Our baby will love your scar because it brought her to us."

Mama Nkechi told me yesterday while cooking, "Pain does not make you bad mother. Pain makes you mother who will protect her child with loud love. Quiet mothers love quietly. Scarred mothers love loudly because they know what it means to lose."

Loud love is our love. Not quiet. Not small. Not hidden. Loud like library children shouting during story time. Loud like Jayden driving fast to feel kick. Loud like me reading even when I am tired and belly is heavy.

Today library received new books. Donation from a woman who read our story on Dreame. Her name is Sarah. She messaged me. She said she was once hurt like me five years ago. Her husband beat her. She left. Now she has 2 kids and a small shop. She donated 50 books for Hope's library. One book she wrote inside with marker, "For Hope - Beyond the scars, there is loud love. From Aunty Sarah who also survived."

I am keeping that book for Hope when she grows up. I will show her that her mama's story helped other mamas.

Jayden and I picked name Hope Loud Williams because Hope is what stayed after pain. Loud is our promise to love loudly, not silently, not secretly. Williams is Jayden's family name, but also my new name. I am Amara Loud Williams now. Not Amara that was hurt. Amara that is loved loudly.

My own mother called today. She said, "Amara, come home, let me cook for you, you are too thin." I said, "Mama, I am home. Library is home. 8th Avenue is home. My belly is big, not thin." She laughed and cried. She is coming tomorrow with bitter leaf soup and fish. She wants to cook for Mama Nkechi too.

I am writing this from same library floor, 25 weeks now, feeling Hope kicking while I write. She kicks when I write loud words. She likes loud words.

If you are reading this on Dreame and you have scar, please hear me: