Last updated on October 17th, 2025 at 10:23 am
After the hangout with a few friends, I’m inspired to take more steps towards unearthing the buried parts of me. This is the part that scares me most: posting a picture of my son. More like, me not intentionally hiding that part of my life—it’s a huge part. Eliam is a very sweet boy and not because he’s my son, he’s a genuinely sweet human, which thankfully has made it easier for my parents. He’s also grown into a very handsome boy, taking most of my dad’s features which I’ve been told I also have—this makes him a spitting image of me, according to my family.
I have a lot of pictures of my son and me that typically might have been shared, but none have ever graced the internet. Even Zabby, who has a huge online presence, has refrained from sharing him online. We’ve both skirted around the topic a few times and I’m sure she’s been avoiding pushing me. I feel guilty hiding him; he doesn’t deserve to be hidden. Honestly, I’m the only that hides him, and it can’t be good for our relationship long-term. I need to fix it.
So, I finally pick up my phone and share a picture of both of us snacking on my failed samosa from my last trip home. It’s the cutest picture ever. I drop my phone and face the ceiling, certain that I will be getting a reaction from Zabby first.
—
I wasn’t wrong. After I posted a picture of Eliam and me on my WhatsApp status, Zabby burst into my room within about five minutes. I was still looking at the ceiling when she came in, so I ignored her until she waved her hand before my face.
“Was it a mistake?” She asked. We both knew it was intentional.
“What?” I asked.
“Your status, Angie!”
“Oh. No. It wasn’t a mistake.” I answered, still avoiding her face. The truth is that I didn’t know how I felt. Zabby left my room after she saw that I wasn’t willing to talk about it but not without me catching her subtle smile.
It’s been a few days since then and apart from my parents and Zabby, the other comments were normal, the usual expression of adoration for a little child. No one asked any questions or mentioned that we look alike.
Then it hit me that I’ve expected judgment and shaming because I’ve judged and shamed myself. Of course, having an unwanted pregnancy outside of wedlock is hugely frowned upon in our culture but sometimes people don’t really care as much as you think. Everyone is facing their own struggles. If I’d continued life without letting my situation hold me back, there might have been a few gossiping here and there, but everyone would have moved on. I certainly haven’t moved on; I remained stuck in the past until now.
I don’t intend to flood my status with pictures of Eliam, as I’m typically more private online, but I won’t be going out of my way or talking myself out of posting pictures of him. The next step is to work on my relationship with him. I don’t know what that looks like long-term but we can start with frequent calls and intentional, not coincidental, private time between us. Also, as I make friends, I intend not to stir the conversations away from topics that may lead me to sharing that I have a son. I don’t see it as a personal achievement—having a son—so I’m not flaunting it, however, he’s a significant part of my life and that shouldn’t be concealed.
—
It’s a few weeks to Valentine’s Day and I decide that Eliam and me will have our first official date. It won’t be bad for him to also spend his holidays here. I know that I can’t convince my parents to let him live with me, and frankly, I’m not sure that I’m ready for that, but spending the holidays with me seems nice. It’s a weird emotion, wanting to step in as a mother. What’s the right way to be a mother I think to myself. I don’t even feel equipped enough to be one, especially after it seemed like I abdicated my duties once he was born.
I don’t let my emotions deter me as I call my parents and Eliam to inform them. It’d be lovely for us to twin, our first ever date. Even amidst the weirdness, there’s intense excitement.
