My Paradise

CHAPTER4(the paradise)

In everything, there exists an opposing force, which often has a profound explanation and reason. This is akin to science, where a positive cannot exist without pairing it with a negative. One cannot expect others to understand or believe them if they haven't heard the opposing viewpoint. This is the lesson I learned; I never gave him a chance, nor did I give myself one, leading to our current predicament. Life's difficulties and numerous trials can lead one to self-reflection. I must admit that my attitude may have contributed to my current situation. I thought he was handling things easily, but I was mistaken. He was actually deeply concerned and felt inadequate because he couldn't provide for my maternity needs. He pretended that all was well, but in reality, he was struggling with feelings of cowardice, shame, and guilt, particularly concerning my future. It never crossed my mind that he might feel this way. He kept silent because he perceived me as unappreciative, and he assumed I wouldn't understand his thoughts.

He endeavored to be a good man and father to me and his son, yet I was engulfed in anger and hatred towards him. To me, he meant nothing special; I spent many nights crying, plagued by incessant questions. The sleepless nights were not just due to my crying baby, but also because I was haunted by these questions during the quiet of the night. My mind raced, and my tears fell like a waterfall, while my heart thundered like a storm in the sky. I dared not make a sound, fearing that my parents and siblings might hear me and blame me for my actions. I am not ready to be questioned or to be blamed for choosing the wrong man. I feel as if I'm in the middle of nowhere, trapped within myself—I was not prepared for any of this. My mind and heart are in constant conflict.

Every day, I strive to be okay and strong, even though deep down, I am not. My son won't remain a baby forever; he will grow up and inquire about his father. The thought of explaining it to him troubles me greatly because we never had the opportunity to discuss our son's future, the support he needs, the situation, or whether his father is allowed to spend time alone with him. My resentment towards him is profound, and I find myself irrationally angry at everything he says or asks. In truth, I am desperate for answers to questions that I fear he has never considered.

I cannot seem to stop blaming myself for feeling like an irresponsible mother. I admit that I haven't been able to provide him with complete maternal care, often relying on my mother's help. While I ensure all his needs are met, I lack in giving him the affection he deserves. My mother constantly reminds me of my responsibilities, and I listen in silence, tears streaming down my face. It has made me realize that my hatred and anger towards his father, and my envy of others who are not mothers at my age, should not dictate my actions and decisions. I feel immense guilt towards my son for being selfish, thinking that merely providing for his needs and being a good provider was sufficient to be considered a responsible mother. But I was mistaken. A mother plays a significant role in the family, especially for her children. I never planned to take on this role, but here I am, and there's no turning back. I must accept the responsibilities that I never anticipated would come so soon.

The following morning, we returned to the clinic, and the doctor decided to admit him for a thorough diagnosis to understand the root cause of his condition. The weight of the world felt so crushing that breathing became a struggle, and an inexplicable pain gripped me, one that prevented tears from escaping my eyes. My knees lacked the strength to support me, making it feel as though the ground was too far beneath my feet, as if I were walking on air. Visions of potentially losing my son haunted my mind. My mental state offered no respite from the situation, deteriorating further with each passing moment. Upon reaching the Emergency room, I couldn't feel my presence, yet I had to maintain composure and act as though I was fine, to handle the situation for my mother who couldn't cope with such stress without succumbing to a nervous breakdown. Hours later, with my son connected to an IV drip, we awaited the results from his doctor's requested laboratory tests and examinations.

While watching over my son from 6pm onwards, he passed blood that was very red and contained mucus. The nurses urgently called the doctor, who decided to transfer us to a larger hospital equipped for emergencies.

Trying to stay calm while waiting for the ambulance, I whispered to my son, "Don't leave me, my son, you're the only treasure I have in my life. I love you so much. I'm not ready to be without you." I could see in his eyes that he was fighting, and I was fighting alongside him. It took 25 minutes to arrive at the hospital. The doctor took charge, ordering laboratory tests and an abdominal ultrasound. Overwhelmed by emotion, I fell asleep while waiting for the results. When I awoke, the results were in, and he was diagnosed with intussusception, requiring immediate surgery. I felt isolated, unable to comprehend what the doctor and nurses were saying to me. The only thing that registered was that he needed surgery as soon as possible, possibly earlier than 10am the following morning. My mind couldn't grasp the situation; I was overwhelmed with grief and negative thoughts.

Morning arrived, and it was time for his surgery. After receiving anesthesia, he was awake but unresponsive. I continued to speak to him, assuring him that I would be waiting, that I loved him 'to the moon and back,' and that he needed to be strong. I promised we would play again and create more memories together.

Driven by my anger towards him, I have ensured that my son does not spend any time with his father. I acknowledge that my decision was selfish, as I allowed my emotions to dictate my actions, focusing solely on my own feelings.