The Weight of Parenthood

There are moments in time when everything just stops. You find yourself facing a terrible storm, which you don’t know how to prepare for. You say to yourself that everything is going to be alright; everything is going to work out for the better. But you are never sure. What if it doesn’t? 

We walked down Benque boulevard in search of answers. My hand interlocked with hers as my fingers caressed her soft, nervous skin. Her grip got tighter every few feet we walked. It was one of the most agonizing walks I had ever taken. Not because of the constant cramping of my left hand as blood futilely tried to reach my fingertips, but because of where we were going.

My wife and I didn’t share a word the entire way, but we walked together as one, ready to face whatever was coming our way when we finally arrived at our destination. How could the fate of both of our futures lie at the mercy of a simple test? Death was soon approaching, and we could not stop it. 

It had been a little over a month since we last stood in that exact location; at the foot of the pharmacy, excited about the prospect of having our first child. We were so nervous but ready to take on this new challenge. We bought the test and headed home. The recommendation was for us to wait for the early morning. But we couldn’t wait for the morning. Perhaps if we had waited, we would have dealt with the test result differently. My wife came out to the living room with tears collected at the base of her eye. At that moment I thought that I was going to be a father. I was too blind to see that her tears were not of joy, but of sadness. I didn’t know how to react. All I could do was brave the storm of sorrow that soon turned to frustration and then to anger and resentment, ravaging everything in its path and no matter how much I tried to hug her and calm her down, it was to no avail.

“Why, Moises, WHY?” she said. “Why can’t I get pregnant?”

 “I don’t know,” I replied.

“Maybe if we tested ourselves to see that everything is fine with us, maybe then…”

The knot in her throat suffocated any other word as more tears poured out from her eyes. The raging storm finally broke out into sorrowful showers of tears.

“No hay nada que podamos hacer, mi amor. There is nothing we can do. Things don’t happen whenever we want them but when HE wills it,” I said.

“I am tired of failing, Moises. This is the third time that we got our hopes up and nothing.

Ya me harte! Maybe it’s just going to be you and me forever.”

The problem with failure is that many times, it convinces you to stop trying. Rather than getting back up, we just decided to give up hope of ever having a child. For days, my wife didn’t eat. For weeks, intimacy walked out the door, and for the entirety of November, her monthly visitor never showed. By the time she realized this, she was 5 days late and for the first time in those 35 days, a glimmer of hope shone in her eyes. I, on the other hand, was terrified. I couldn’t bear to see her fall into the dark hole of depression once more, dealing with yet another negative result. 

And it was looking very likely that I wouldn’t have to. I don’t exactly know what happened in her mind, but as the day came for us to buy yet another pregnancy test, I stopped seeing that glimmer in her eyes. She was hesitant; afraid even.

Now, on our way back from the pharmacy once again, she held my hand. She didn’t press. She didn’t squeeze, but I could feel her whole body tremble as she attempted to keep her nerves under control. We walked through the front door of our little house. Was it too little to sustain another human being, or was it still too spacious and in need of a little piece of heaven to make it whole?

“We’re not ready! I don’t want it to be positive,” my wife said.

“What?” I replied in disbelief. “I thought this is what we wanted all this time.”

“Maybe last month, but we are not ready for this level of responsibility, Moises. You are studying right now, paying for 4 classes, and with the money we have left, we barely scrape by. It is not the time,” she said, resigned.

It was true. We barely had enough for ourselves. Rent was killing us and groceries were not as cheap as they were before Covid. And that was yet another thing we hadn’t considered. We would be bringing a child into a post-pandemic world, where we didn’t know what to expect. Nevertheless, I held her hand and reassured her that we were going to be okay. “Dios sabe porqué hace las cosas. Sus tiempos son perfectos y nunca fallan. God will provide,” I said trying to reassure her. 

She went into the bathroom, and I waited. I had a feeling that this was the one. I knew in my heart that I was going to be a father. Three minutes passed and I was still alone in the living room. I started fidgeting. The nerves were getting to me. My foot doing its best impression of a rabbit, and my heart running like one. My poor body, trying to regulate itself, but  how could it? It was at the mercy of a single test result. Five minutes passed, and still my wife was locked in the bathroom. Silence reigned, occasionally interrupted by the chilling breeze. I stared at our Christmas tree, beautifully adorned with ribbons and ornaments, but still devoid of any gifts. Just enough space for the biggest gift of all. I looked at the star, and as if in a trance, I imagined myself hoisting up a kid to place the star atop the tree. I prayed. I really prayed that if the test did indeed come out positive, we would be able to raise this child with all of the love and care that she or he deserved. I prayed that we would be able to cover all of this baby’s needs. I prayed that we would be enough to be great parents. I knew my wife would make an excellent mother, so I said a special prayer for me.

After nearly ten minutes, she finally came out. Tears rolled down her face once more, and once again, they were not tears of happiness. The anxious anticipation and excitement she had gotten the previous month were not the same as what she was feeling this time around. Within the span of a month, she had already gotten it in her head that we were going to enjoy our time together; just the two of us. We were going to travel, spend our money on the things we wanted and save whatever little we had left at the end of every month. That was the plan. That was what we had discussed. IF we failed yet again to start a family. God had other plans, and His plans are always perfect. It was truly devastating to see my wife fall into depression yet again, but this time, it wasn’t because we couldn’t have a baby but because we were going to.

The first two months were the hardest. We barely spoke, but the few times we did, we ended up arguing about the most insignificant things. Perhaps it was the uncertainty of our situation, or the ever-changing chemistry of her body as it created another human being inside of her, but I still could not see excitement in the eyes of my lovely wife. I was nervous. I was afraid that the depression would be fatal to one or both entirely. 

But as I said, God’s timing is always perfect, and once we heard that faint little heartbeat in the first ultrasound, everything changed. It was at that moment that I saw it again; that glimmer of hope in her eyes. And with her hope restored, so too were most of our problems and concerns resolved. I managed to secure a sponsorship that soon turned into a fully funded scholarship to finish my degree. Through the Belize National Teachers’ Union, we were able to secure our first piece of land and our very first loan to make preparations for the arrival of our baby. Who still didn’t have a name, whose gender we didn’t even know, but whom we expected with open arms. 

Two months after that, we did a gender reveal with our closest friends, Aidan and Tiffany, who would soon become our baby’s godparents. Aylin and I had seen many gender reveals on social media, but it soon became apparent that my wife was going to be greater at being a mother than I was going to be at being a father. Those kinds of things didn’t really matter to me. I was happy enough just knowing the gender of our baby directly from the doctor’s mouth. I didn’t spend my time preparing to know everything there is to know about parenthood. I didn’t read the books, and I didn’t do the work. I couldn’t keep up with the amazing work my wife was putting in. It got to the point where my wife thought I didn’t love our child. That was not the case, but what I can say is that I didn’t yet have a connection with the baby as Aylin did. The roles had reversed on us both. I became nervous and hesitant. I feared… I was terrified of not being able to be a good father to my child. I didn’t know what I was doing, and you can be sure that I did not know what to expect. The reassuring and confident side of me had left this earth, and a fearful wreck was all that remained. I was going to be a father. The baby was almost due, and I still hadn’t stopped to consider the implications this baby would have on how I was living my life. I didn’t know what was coming my way, but what I did know was that I was going to try my best to be the very best father to my firstborn.

“1…2…3, open it!” Tiffany shouted. I opened the umbrella, and thousands of little pieces of paper rained on Aylin and me. Pink. Pink. Pink. Tiny pieces of pink paper everywhere. The flash and shutter of a camera made me look up. I still remember the picture. The enormous smile I had on my face was priceless. It didn’t matter how afraid I may have been feeling on the inside, the huge grin I had on the outside, without even realizing I was doing it until I saw the photo later, was exactly what I needed to know that I was going to do alright. We were going to be alright. My girls and I were going to be just fine.

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Moises Martinez is an English Education major at the University of Belize. He lives in Benque Viejo del Carmen and enjoys watching and talking about movies.