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Found Out I am not the Father of Our Daughter But That Wasn’t The Worse Thing…

Story from Silentbeads
I was 26 years old when I decided on marriage. She was 25 years and equally matured for the journey. It wasn’t easy convincing my parents that I was a man enough to get married.
To them, I was still a boy who had been very lucky to find a good job immediately after school. They wanted me to wait for a while but for how long, they couldn’t say, so I decided to go on with it.
When the time came for the marriage, they gave me their blessings and wished me well. It was a small wedding. Just for the two families and some close friends of ours. We didn’t want to waste time and didn’t want to waste money too. Just about two hours, we were declared husband and wife and left the church premises to begin our lives together.
It was beautiful the first year as you would expect. The second year was awesome too. The third year…hmmm wasn’t that awesome but we survived. Not that we were fighting or experiencing a major shift in our relationship. No! Childbearing issues came between us and my wife started getting worried.
As she constantly reminded me; “Charles, it’s been three years already. Do you know what people are saying behind our backs?” I kept assuring her, “I’m your husband. I’m not worried. I’m not bothered so why should you be bothered about what others might say?”
She would then answer; “Of course you won’t be bothered. You are the man and no one is going to blame you. It’s always the woman’s fault so I have every right to be bothered!”
Yeah, she had a point. We started visiting hospitals and they kept assuring us that everything was fine. We started using herbal drugs and everything that promised us a child. My wife started visiting prayer camps and seeing powerful pastors who claimed they could help her get a child.
We were in the fourth year of our marriage and still no sign. And then the fifth year, still no sign. That was when things started heating up. No laughter. No outing except to visit a hospital or a herbalist. Nothing in between.
At the twilight of our fifth year in marriage, we got the news we’ve been waiting for; my wife got pregnant! You can imagine the happiness. The screams, the shouting of God’s glory and thanksgiving prayers to God. Happiness was restored and everything came back to normal. 
She delivered a baby girl and we named her after my mother. I was happy for her happiness. She could do nothing wrong after the child had come and made me very proud to have a woman like her in my life.
It was a Friday night. I came back home and she was in the bath. Her phone was on the bed and blinking. Every second or so, the phone’s screen lights up with a new message. I picked up to see who was so busy sending messages to someone in a bath.
What I saw raised my suspicion!
One of the messages read; “And I know as she grows up, she’ll definitely look like me.” And another one went like; “I have the stronger genes remember…(smilies)” 
“What is this one talking about?” I questioned myself. I wanted to open the phone and read all the conversations but I didn’t know the passcode. But from that day, I knew what I had to do.
I booked a date for a DNA test and had samples collected. Just about three weeks later, the results came out that I wasn’t the father. 
My fears had been confirmed. I got broken. For the nine-month or so that we’ve had the baby, I’ve done nothing but to love her with everything I have. She even carries my mom’s name so the affection my mom gave her was out of the ordinary. But here I am, staring the truth right in the face; “You are not the father of your own baby” 
I thought of not discussing it with her. After all, she was the woman I’ve loved every day. I kept quiet for a while but the truth always has a way of coming out. At some point, I couldn’t hold it any longer so I let all out.
I showed her the DNA results, I told her why I did the test in the first place and I told her how broken I was to realize I couldn’t call the baby my own. I wanted her to explain what happened. I wanted her to feel sorry and apologize for her sins. I knew it would hurt for a while but I was ready to forgive her.
But listen to what she said; “The fact that I could have a child with someone else means you are the problem. I’ve been with you for 5 years and you couldn’t get me pregnant. It took someone only a month to do it. I saved your face. You should thank me for  making you appear like a man in front of your peers and the world.”
It’s not easy to hit a woman but when she says things like these, it makes it easier to kill her no matter the love. I didn’t hit her but the shock that went into my skin was enough to kill a man. I watched her in awe and didn’t know what to say or do to her. 
She kept on talking and moving about in rage as if she was the victim. I watched her going up and down saying thrash to me but all I could think of was the little girl lying in the cot nearby. Her innocence and everything that would go against her as the times pass.
My heart kept pounding in rage but I kept my composure and determined not to hurt anyone. I called her parents to come over the next day. 
Early the next day, her parents and her senior brother came over. I told them the whole story and asked them to ask their daughter who the father of the baby was. The mother broke down totally but the father couldn’t say a word. The senior brother kept repeating; “Adwoa, tell us it’s not true. This can’t be true, right?”
She couldn’t Utter a word! I left the house for them. 
Later in the evening, the parents came to see me with the truth; “The baby is for her ex-boyfriend,” the father said,” and the way I see it, she did it because you two were not conceiving.”

I only nodded and said thank you to the parents and asked them to take their daughter along when leaving the house. Three months later, I gathered the courage to tell my family what has happened and my father said “Son, leave her tomorrow. She doesn’t deserve to be forgiven if she doesn’t see the need to apologize.”
My mom only said; “I have to get my name back. The baby doesn’t have my blood.”
We got divorced, my mom got her name back and she left to live with her parents. The last time I heard of her, she’s gotten married to another man and carrying the man’s baby. I’m here, not married though but life has been good.  
-Story by Charles Baffour, Kumasi-Ghana.


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