When we came back home, you started preparing for the arrival of the baby, most men wanted sons, and I wished I could give you an heir, Mthandeni. 

I saw how your eyes sparkled whenever the baby kicked, and how you’d always come home from work with either a new toy for the baby, or a pram, or a tiny little cute outfit. You were overjoyed!

You set up trust funds, Mthandeni, you were preparing for the future of our little one, you made investments and brought a house, and said you’ll give it to our child as soon as they turned 18. 

You fed my cravings, you tickled me, you laughed with me, you kissed me, you made love to me, you carried me with the most gentle hands, Mthandeni, you didn’t even want me to lift a finger during my pregnancy.

I gave birth to a son! A boy! You were elated! You kept staring at him like you’d never seen a baby boy, before. You kept kissing him, hugging him, and suffocating him with your love.

You named him, “Avethandwa.”

Avethandwa Zulu. It was such a beautiful name, and it was perfect. Of course you loved him, I loved him, and he brought us even more joy!

Avethandwa kept growing, and he looked more and more like you, Mthandeni. He was so beautiful, people often asked me if he was a girl. Whenever I went with him, to malls or outings, even though I dressed him in Spidey outfits, people would say,

“Your daughter looks so beautiful.”

I’d laugh shyly and correct, “He’s a boy.”