prompt: … the difference between desire and destiny when individuals face uncontrollable circumstances.
theme statement: An individual’s destiny completely inhibits their efforts in achieving their desires and aspirations, rendering themselves useless in uncontrollable circumstances – as their fate has been predetermined.
In love we find out who we want to be.
I’ve always dreamed of the beauty in motherhood. That my sole purpose for being placed on this earth was to love someone more than I could ever love myself. To share a heart with someone else. To understand what true beauty meant when I would look into my baby’s old, wise eyes, just like my own, and I would hold my baby without an ounce of selfishness. Maybe I could sing sweet lullabies. And I would ask nothing in return.
I’ve always known of my condition – that motherhood was impossible for me. I always asked God if this is what He had intended. How could a God so good deprive me of a purpose as humble as this? Perhaps it was that my heart was incapable for providing enough love for two. It couldn’t be.
So I tried and tried, until I lost all my strength. Maybe now that I’ve found my purpose, I age quicker. Each grain of sand in the hourglass that has been destined for me- lost, as if it were misplaced. I’m running out of time.
But I pictured those old, wise eyes, just like my own, and the promises I made to myself. I would look into those eyes, as incomparable as they would be. The light they would bring, how much more I would be able to see.
And I fell in love all over again. So I tried and tried, until one morning I kept vomiting the remains of my hope, dwindling with every grain of sand lost from the hourglass. I was growing weak again. And I asked God if this was the answer to my prayers. It must be, it must be. God, may this be a miracle. I beg and plead: do the impossible. With hope replenished, I couldn’t help but feel that maybe there was a tiny heart beating within my own body, beating in sync with mine.
In war we find out who we are.
The pregnancy was difficult. Difficult would’ve been an understatement. The pregnancy was almost sinister. All the inevitable components that posed new complications – that I seemed to overlook before – destroyed me.
Nothing mattered. The infinite sweet lullabies I sang, the love I promised to give, the way I promised to look into those old, wise eyes that would’ve been much like my own. None of it mattered. I was still wrought with my condition that would leave me shattered after labour. How I wished my baby would never feel that unspeakable pain.
Spina bifida. A congenital defect of the spine. At twenty weeks the doctor explains that my baby must be fixed.
But I’ve named my baby. Even if I can’t save myself for the sake of my child, he deserved a name. If a mere name is all I can pass onto my son, may it be one of strength and godliness. Yes, maybe I am fading with the pregnancy, but I refuse to allow the light in my baby’s eyes be dimmed. He is all I’m worth. I just want to keep you safe.
At twenty-one weeks in utero, my baby was to be fixed. The doctor described that during the procedure, my baby reached out of my body, longing for someone to hold onto. I couldn’t help the tears flowing out of my old, wise eyes that I knew my baby and I would share. That was his first birth. God, did I pray for a second.
The second birth was silent.
As if I’ve already known one of us wouldn’t make it. And that day I screamed into the heavens, piercing the silence of my baby’s second birth. Take me instead, please, take me instead. The threat of losing the light of my baby’s eyes, as if it had been misplaced, will destroy me.
Come back to me, my beautiful Samuel. I’m sorry that I can never look into your beautiful, wise old eyes, just like my own. I’m sorry that my heart was incapable of providing enough love for the both of us. My beautiful Samuel, please come back to me.