Happy birthday darling! I wanted to use this opportunity, before the revelers come, to celebrate you, and to talk to you.
I love you. More than you’ll ever know. More than you might even ever need. I loved you when I first heard of you. I loved you even on the days that I sat on the toilet for 4 hours at a stretch because you were pressing down on my bladder. By the way, was it bullying you in the womb or something? What exactly did it do to you? Anyway, forget it. I’ve already forgiven you.
Your father isn’t here. He hasn’t been here for almost 8 months. You know that, don’t you? I’ve been talking your ear off about him for about 7 of those months. I’m sorry about that by the way. Forgive me. I read so many T.V shows and books while you were still safely ensconced in my amniotic fluid. They all said that I shouldn’t treat you like an adult or lay my problems on your shoulders until you’re approximately old enough to get a girl pregnant. Don’t do that before you’re 30? Ok? And marry her first. I will try to keep myself alive and healthy until then. And I promise, to try, not to resort to emotional blackmail. But when you do marry her, I would prefer 3 grandchildren. Keep that in mind.
Why isn’t your father here? It’s because he’s getting a new wife. You know how he is. He couldn’t face me and tell me so he ran away like a coward. I’m not even sure he will ever come back. They finally managed to convince him that I am a man and therefore unable to have children. And you know the funny part of this story? He left before he could meet you. I’m not sure he’ll ever come back. It’s ok. I have you.
When the nurse brought you in to me, your head was covered. In swaddling clothes, I had thought. Just like Jesus. Do you realize that this is Christmas? You’re a Christmas baby. I’m digressing. I’Im sorry about that. She came in. With fear on her face. She said you were born dead. And wondered if I would like to hold you for a moment, before you were buried.
So here we are. I haven’t paid the hospital fees. And the banks are closed. We’ve been talking for almost 5 hours. They’re getting angry with me, I can tell. They are probably angrier about the fact that I haven’t paid. And about the fact that the door has been locked all through this conversation. Happy birthday my love. It’s just a shame that it will be your only one. We’ll meet soon. The bed sheets are sturdy and there’s a hook on the ceiling. I don’t even know what its purpose is. As soon as we’re done talking, it will have a new purpose. Don’t hate me when we meet. What am I expected to do? 10 years waiting for you and when you do come, you come in dead. No husband. No job? And hardly any money in the bank? Just remember that I love you. That I loved you so much. Happy birthday my dear. It’s just a shame that it was also your death day. ***********************************************************************
Every day in Nigeria, some woman loses either her life or her baby. While you eat your Christmas chicken today, please spare a thought for them. Thank you! Have a merry Christmas. :-).