The Child I Would Never Get to Kiss Goodnight

—The conception

I was on a dangerous path, losing myself while going down a rabbit hole from which there seemed to be no return - Photo by Juliana Stein from Pexels

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It started out as just fun, breaking away from the chaos at home, my father’s alcoholic binging and the childhood traumas hiding right underneath the surface, begging to be released.

Like a ghost haunting me, I was on a constant run from my home, from my father, and from myself. I thought it would make it better, if only momentarily.

My promiscuous years often echoed of longing for the father I never had and the safety I never felt.

Although I felt shame, there was a profound reason behind my socially unacceptable behavior —It was spiritual in nature, a revelation I had initially thought to be physical.

I was looking for the masculinity of a father, looking for the Divine masculinity of God in people—men I hardly knew.

When I fell pregnant, the shame consumed me, and I consciously distanced myself from this destructive behaviour.

I recall one night in December 2014 that marked a pivotal turning point in those days when I felt lost. It was a time of looking for connection, safety and love but finding only shame, heartache and pain.