In 2019 Thabisa started working at Tygerberg Hospital when she earned her nursing diploma. Our finances began to improve but the spark was fading.

Our conversations became more about money and work. I missed how we used to be. If I knew what was wrong, I would have given my all for things to go back to where they were when we first dated.

My mother, on the other hand, was on my case more now about when I was making her a grandmother. I was also not getting any younger and I really wanted to have children with Thabisa. I believed the child would bring the spark back into our relationship.


We were watching TV on a Tuesday afternoon when we were both off from work. She was mostly chatting on her phone and not really concentrating on the movie that I had chosen.

She jumped up from the sofa and ran to the bathroom. I heard her throw up and flush the toilet.

“Baby, are you alright?” I asked.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she said.

“You have been throwing up a lot lately. Maybe we should use the spare pregnancy test that you
haven’t used yet,” I suggested.

“Aren’t you tired of being disappointed?” she said. Every time we thought Thabisa was pregnant it would turn out to be a false alarm.

“Let’s check, Babe. Maybe you really are pregnant this time,” I said.

“Ok,” Thabisa said. “I will do the test tomorrow morning.”

The following morning, Thabisa went to the bathroom and tested. When she came out I could see in her face that the results were negative again.

“Baby, are you sure your miscarriage didn’t cause problems with your … you know, uhm … womb?” I found myself asking her.

“What? What are you saying, Simphiwe? Are you blaming me now? Because I am a woman the fault is definitely mine, right?” Thabisa yelled. It was the first time I had seen her like this.

“What should I think, Thabisa? You never tell me anything about your past. For example, who was the father of your child? Where is he now? Was he responsible for your miscarriage? Is that why you don’t want to talk about him?” I raised my voice too.

“You men are all the same! You are no different from my father, Simphiwe. You are also no different from the man who made me pregnant. And yes, he was the reason I lost my child. You know what else? To hell with you!” she screamed at me.

She walked out, leaving me alone in the house.

No different from the man who made me pregnant … He was the reason I lost my child … These words rang to my head. I wondered how he made her lose their child. Was he violent? If he was violent how could she compare me to him?

Thabisa was dealing with a lot of issues in her past. I knew she needed help, but it was difficult because she was shutting me out. I hoped we would get past this, but I had no idea how I could get her to let me help.

“Baby, I am sorry. But please, Babe, talk to me. I love you. Don’t push me away, I want to help you. Did you have counselling? I can arrange it for you,” I pleaded when she came back into the house.

“You know what, I don’t have time for this, Simphiwe. I need to rest,” she said walking to our bedroom.

“Babe!” I called her.

“Don’t Babe me!” she shouted.

I hoped things would be better the following day. The way she looked at me scared me. It felt like I had become someone else in her eyes. I had never seen such anger and hatred in her eyes before.

Tell us: Do you think Simphiwe could do more to try to get Thabisa to accept his help?