She gave birth again. This was the 6th pregnancy, but child seven and eight. Twins. The cries of the babies were like tongue lashings from her ancestors. She knew they were the voices of the dead complaining that she still couldn’t produce a boy. No matter how much she swaddled the tiny bodies, and nursed the hungry mouths, it did not change the fact that once again, she had failed her husband’s family and produced only girls. Seven girls. Failure came in the scent of dirty diapers and spit up. It was painful to be reminded day after day that she was not fulfilling her duties as a wife and mother, to produce a son for the family. It eventually became too much to bear.
One day father came home from work to a silent house. There was no chaos, no screaming babies, only heavy, sorrowful silence. He scanned the room quickly, eyes darting from top to bottom.
“Where are they?” he exclaimed. “What did you do?” he continued as he shook the woman with the empty eyes. When hope abandons the soul it leaves a black hole that sucks the light out the eyes.
She couldn't continue on. Not like that, everyday knowing she could barely feed the five other mouths in the house, all female. All disappointing. The babies would be better off in a home where food was prevalent, where money flowed like rivers and love sprung abundant. She convinced herself she was doing the babies a favor. The internal monologue was powerful and she wove the perfect story to justify her actions. But the father was not having it. He raced out of the house and searched the area. He combed the forest behind the property and scaled the mountain base in search of those two babies. He was sure he read somewhere twins were good luck. Even though he only made it to 5th grade, he was certain there was a story where twins meant luck and good fortune. As he came around a bend, he could hear two cries that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He scooped the babies up and held them tight so they could feel his heartbeat. He took them home where they belonged.
Two years had passed and she stood in the same old house, in the same musty room. She had sent the older girls out to the market to search for scraps to piece together for dinner. People always have pity for young children and often gave handouts to them before they gave to adults. The girls knew which vendors were kind and which ones were mean. They searched high and low with the din of the market behind them, carrying on as if they were non-existent. The smell of seafood was intoxicating to the young girls, but they dared not dream of meat for dinner. Their brains knew they had to protect their stomach by not wishing for things that were impossible to have. Instead, they laid low with the smell of the earth and picked up droppings that would not be missed, but good enough for dinner.
Proud of their meager scavenging, they came home and gave what they collected to her. She did her best to prepare a meal and feed the six girls. It used to be seven, but one twin daughter did not survive. Evidently her luck was left on the mountain side. One less cry in middle of the night. One less mouth to feed. As she boiled water to make a broth, the stench came up and hit her nose with a vengeance. A wave of nausea encompassed her and she ran heaving to the bathroom. As she vomited into the toilet, she thought to herself… no way. There’s no way she could have another baby. But as she wiped the spittle from her lip and stared into the broken mirror on the wall, hope returned to her eyes as she thought maybe this time. Maybe this time it will be a boy and the in-laws would be pleased, her husband would be proud, and her family would be complete.
Eight months later, she would again be disappointed. Another baby girl was born in a house that yearned for a boy. She knew what she had to do. She had no choice. She had heard there was a family nearby who wanted a child but could not have one. She had the perfect plan. She would drop the seventh daughter off at that house in the nice part of town, as an answer to their prayers. While the girls were asleep, she asked oldest sister to help her. In the cover of night, they began the trek to the neighbors. The oldest daughter could see the footprints in the snow behind them get smaller and smaller, faintly reflecting in the moonlight. As they reached the baby’s new home, she hugged the baby tight, pulled the blanket over her face and left her on the front porch so her new family could find her. If the baby had just been a boy, she would’t have to go through this. If life could have just been fair for once, she wouldn’t have to bury her feelings deep inside herself. In order to move on for her family, she will have to let this part of her die inside.
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