I will cry for you in every life given,
I will cry for you in eternity liven
Despite you never bear no malice
I will ask for amnesty again
I will ask for your name,
I will look for your flame
I will come back to cope a plea
Despite you never bear no malice
I will ask for amnesty again
May be in this or another life,
May be in a sphere away
I will find you again
I will meet you again
Despite you never bear no malice
I will ask for amnesty again
(Translated from the Nazrul song Jonom Jonom Tobo Tore Kadibo)
But the symptoms of poisonous Misoprostol (RU486) didn’t abate quickly. I was clotting and cramping. The doctor suggested it was wiser to let you go, as Misoprostol does increase the rate of birth defects like shortened limbs, missing fingers or toes, or facial paralysis. It may cause your life to be not worth living.
In Bangladesh, this whole idea of taking abortion pills is not very common, thus doctors couldn’t give me much hope. I wanted to hold on to you, but you were slowly going silent. Just like your father, all at once you stopped communicating with me. I was getting the signs that you were nonchalantly asking me: “Why did you kill me, mother?”
I didn’t have an answer.
By the time I became an eight week-pregnant mother, carrying you hushed in my womb, along with you, my health was also deteriorating. And then your father finally showed up to help. There were so many things I wanted to tell him about you, but I couldn’t.
He scheduled a legal abortion surgery with the best doctor in town. The procedure is called dilation and curettage, a procedure to remove embryo tissues from the uterus. I don’t remember anything about the moment when they disunited you from me, as I was under anesthesia.
But I am sure you can recall when the doctor took you to meet your father for the first and last time after you were separated from me. He waited outside the operation theatre the whole time, and he was the one who saw you first, when you stepped into the world.
During the period when he was not in contact with me and was sending me updates through his girlfriends, friends, and relatives, I felt like ripping him apart, or just slaying him alive.
But the moment I saw your father face to face, waiting outside the OT to see you for the last time, to ensure I was alright post-surgery, all my anger melted away.
I know from the way I described all the incidents, you must be thinking your father is a bad person. But my dear boy, I can assure you he is one of the best memories of my life. It’s just that he didn’t love me back the way I loved him, and he can’t be held accountable, because love is a thing that can never be forced.
The timing was also wrong. I couldn’t be the person he was looking for at the time, so we parted ways. I can soothe you with the comfort that you were not carrying a deceiver’s blood. Your father is anything but a betrayer. He never disrespected or offended me, however we still couldn’t be compatible.
Sometimes, it happens that a one-sided love story hurts less by letting go. Don’t think that you were the result of a mistake. However, your father and I were not strong enough to hold on. We just never wanted to give you a scattered life.
Though, the guilt of letting you go is haunting me every night, the craving, the nausea, the discomfort -- all are gone. The memory of your existence is recalled at every sunrise. I think of you every now and then, I think of how it would be if you still were with me.
I wish I was lucky enough to hold you at least once. I wish the Almighty was kind enough to allow me to hold your tiny fingers. I wish I could bring you into this world, which is tough but also very beautiful to live in. I wish we could witness a sunset together, where the sky goes magically pink before going dark.
Would you promise to come back to my life despite the fact I have been an irresponsible mother? Would you give me a second chance and forgive me? Would I be blessed enough to feel your toes on my hands ever?
Mommy will be waiting to meet you soon.
Take care, my son.
With love,
Your Mother
