Of Love and Soul

Ever since I reached an age of adolescence, I started noticing everything and everyone around me. I judged my parents’ abusive relationship and our dysfunctional family and I decided to remain a bachelor for my entire life. However the idea of being a father and the concept that parenthood completes a person always pursued me. I always wondered what kind of father i would be. Am I going to turn out to be angry and abusive like my dad or am I going to be an example of how one child can be the exception and break the cycle of suffering that runs in the family?

All these questions were brought to test when i found an abandoned baby crying for his life in the alley next to our apartment building.

I was a small-time writer at a children magazine which very little people knew about (no pun intended). The pay was nifty and the job was thankless. I earned most of my living from advertising. I wrote those silly little subliminal messages people often find themselves humming subconsciously from time to time. I could barely afford the rent sometimes, which is why it wasn’t very economically sound of me when i decided to keep the child instead of dropping him at an orphanage. Despite everything, i wanted to look after the baby because somewhere in the back of my mind, i believed that i stumbled upon him for a reason, even though i was not an avid believer of fate or destiny. I wanted to give him everything I didn’t have as a child, everything a child deserved. I wanted him to have a life, a healthy environment for growth and most importantly, i wanted him to have a family that was always there for him, through thick and thin, whether it be blood or not.

In order to be able to look after the baby as well as juggle work at the same time, i decided to do something I’ve never done before; I put out an ad looking for a woman to nurse a toddler. I called in sick and braced my self to stay inside to look after the baby for weeks or even months. I prepared myself mentally. Then I went out shopping for diapers, lactogen and other essentials. The baby was bundled in warm blankets and was left carefully on a higher ground. It seems that despite being abandoned, the baby was loved. Whoever left him, perhaps he or she was out of options or backed into a corner, or maybe I’m just speculating too much.
He was a beautiful little baby boy with curly brown hairs and amber eyes that lit up whenever you smiled at him. His plump little fingers wrapped around mine and his giggles that filled the room with joy gave me a sense of contentment and pure happiness as i cried thinking about a future that wasn’t so dark and lonely anymore. A future where we were happy and he made me proud.

He didn’t eat the lactogen that i mixed for him. Perhaps it was the taste or perhaps he wasn’t old enough. Either way, i was scared. I didn’t want his health to deteriorate . It was at that time a call regarding the ad came to me as a light from a light house amidst a storm.
She matched all the criteria and more; she could breastfeed. I did not want to make the mistake of asking her how, I was just glad that she could nurse the baby, who, was surprisingly glad to see her and started reaching for milk almost immediately. And she also did me the favor of not asking too many questions regarding the baby and how i came across him.
Her name was Rebeca. It was magical to see how well she could take care of the baby and how swiftly and easily he relaxed in her care. Like they shared a bond deeper than blood. She stayed from morning till evening while i was at work. Sometimes she’d stay longer and we’d talk as we looked after the baby together. She taught me how to nurse a baby properly and how to hold them and how our baby, i mean, this baby wanted to be held and the little things he liked.

One day i had to stay late at work due to a printer malfunction. It was supposed to print my cover story for the next day. So I called Rebeca and asked her if she could stay and look after the baby a little longer. She was more than happy to do so and told me not to worry. It felt comforting knowing that someone back home was looking after us.
I arrived home very late to see a tired Rebeca caressing a sleeping baby. I brought chinese food and asked her if she’d like to dine in with me. She nodded happily and we talked over dinner. We shared our philosophies of life, our childhood, our secrets. We talked about the baby and how he came under my care and then she opened up about herself. Things she never spoke to anyone before.
Rebeca was a mother herself not too long ago, which explained why she still lactated.  She had big hopes for herself and her baby but she had no idea her infection has spread to the uterus. One night she was bleeding from a hemorrhage. She was so scared that she passed out. Then she woke up to find that the doctors had performed a cesarean and a hysterectomy on her. The cesarean left a botched scar and she could never bear a child again. But the worst news she was given that day was that her baby died in her womb. I was grief stricken with all these distressing revelations , all these misfortunes happened to her in one night that changed her life. She pulled me into a heartfelt embrace and we both cried in each others shoulders.

I asked her if she could stay the night. She smiled at me, “Of course”.

We lay on bed with the baby sleeping soundly between us, sucking on his tiny thumb.

“I want you to stay with us. The baby needs you. I need you.”

She stopped caressing the baby and looked at me. Tears started leaking from the corner of her eyes.

“I want to stay with us too” she replied. She wiped my tears as well as her own. “We could be a family” She said.

“Yes!” I exclaimed so loudly i almost woke the baby up. “We could be a happy family! Maybe not perfect, but we can always make do. We can make each other happy. I’m not talking about marriage, I- We know each other. We can talk. We are the same” At this point we were clutching each others hands firmly.

“Yes!” she was smiling with tears running down her face. “Have you thought of a name for our baby?” She asked.

“Yes. Arcadio.” I replied solemnly and she burst into tears. It was the name she had given to her stillborn child.