How One Loving Man Ended A Family Curse

My mother was just seventeen when she gave birth to me. The man responsible for her pregnancy was another woman's husband. According to my mother's account of her encounter with my dad, she was unaware of his marital status. It was only after she became pregnant and proposed marriage that he revealed he was already married. My aunt, however, tells a different story, claiming my mother knew from the beginning that my dad was married. She fell for him because of his kindness.

I tend to believe my aunt's version since she has no reason to distort the truth. My mother seems to feel the need to sanitize her past to avoid my judgment. But it doesn’t matter now; I am the product of that affair, and I can only express gratitude to both of them for bringing me into this world.

My mother later married another man, but after having one child and spending four years together, they divorced. She married again, perhaps to prove her worthiness of love, but that marriage lasted only three years and resulted in another daughter. So, three daughters and no husband. She decided to step away from marriage and focus on raising us.

My mother’s older sister has four children, two with the same father and the other two with different fathers. My maternal grandmother had seven children with four different men and passed away without a husband.

This pattern seems to run in the family. Some say it’s a curse. My mother had numerous pastors pray over her to break this curse. She fasted and spent nights in various churches before marrying her last husband, but that didn’t work out either.

I was in senior high school when I became pregnant—a teacher was the father. To protect his job and reputation, I never revealed his name. He promised me the world if I kept quiet, saying he would support my education until I was of age for marriage. I believed him. After I left school to give birth, he transferred to another school.

After delivering, I returned to school, completed senior high, and gained admission to a teacher training college. In my second year, I became pregnant again, this time by a boyfriend I met at school. He acknowledged his responsibility but didn’t act like a father. Once more, I went home, gave birth, and returned to my studies.

Rumors began to circulate about the supposed curses in my family. Three generations repeating the same mistakes couldn’t be mere coincidence, right? I started to believe in the curse but felt powerless to change my situation. If it was indeed a curse, then I couldn’t be blamed for what was happening in my life. My mother was supportive, pleased that I continued my education while she cared for my children.

After college, I resolved that my next relationship would be my last. If it worked out, great; if not, I would be done with men. My mother warned me, “It’s hard to start a new relationship with your past mistakes following you. Men won’t take you seriously while you give your all, thinking you’ve found the one. They’ll leave after another pregnancy.”

“…Past mistakes following you…” She was referring to my children from previous relationships, but I didn’t see them as mistakes. They were my choices, and I was proud of them. Nevertheless, her advice proved helpful. Whenever a man expressed interest, I made it clear: “I have two kids, a boy and a girl. They mean everything to me. If you want me, you must accept them too.”

Many men walked away upon learning I had children. Others stayed for a while, only to leave when they realized the reality of my situation. Such is life, I thought—no problem.

Then I met James, who promised to bring me a piece of the stars if I desired it. He loved me, and his actions demonstrated his deep affection. He was unaware of my children, which felt normal. I thought, “Just wait until he learns about the remnants of my past relationships.” One night, as he passionately declared his love, I interrupted him: “James, you don’t need to say anything more to prove your love. I know you care for me, but can you also love my kids?” He looked taken aback. “Kids? You have children?” he asked, surprised.

I smiled and replied, “Yes, I have two kids, and they are my everything. Can you love them too?” “Where’s their father?” he inquired. I explained, “They have different fathers because I had them at different times in my life. The fathers left, and it’s just been me and my kids. They were born from my choices, but they are not mistakes.”

I didn’t hear from James for nearly a week. He neither called nor texted. The last message I sent him went unread. I thought, “He couldn’t handle the truth. Maybe he’s not the one.” I genuinely liked him and hoped he would be the one, but I couldn’t force him to stay. One morning, he texted me, “How are you? When will you introduce me to the kids?” I replied, “They’re always with me. You’ll meet them when you come over.”

The next day, he visited with gifts for the kids, who were ecstatic, clamoring around him and asking when he would return with more surprises. I asked him, “Why didn’t I hear from you for over a week?” He explained, “I needed time to think about everything and figure out how much I truly wanted this.”

“And…?” I prompted.

“Yeah, I’ve thought it over. I’m glad you told me when you did. They’re lovely kids, and I don’t think they’ll change anything. My feelings for you remain strong. I was scared, but having time to reflect made it less daunting.”

So we began dating. Neither of us wanted to waste time. I had moved past the recklessness of new love, and he was determined to make me his wife soon. My mother had no issues with him; she treated the relationship as if it were inconsequential. Perhaps she was waiting for the day I would say, “He left me.” She still believed in the family curse. James’ parents, however, posed the biggest challenge. As their only child, they expected him to marry someone with a fresh start, not someone who had begun her journey at seventeen in high school. His mother refused to accept me, while his father cautioned him to be wary of women with children from previous relationships.

Two years into our relationship, his parents still opposed me. One morning, I told him, “Your parents are right. They care about you and don’t want to see you make a mistake that could ruin your future. Let’s listen to them. Find someone else, marry her, and make them happy. I won’t hold it against you; you’ve done your best.” He replied, “No, we’re not giving up just like that. They don’t know you well enough, which is why they’re judging you through a distorted lens. Let’s give it another year. I’ll change their minds.” I asked, “What will you do differently?”

Not long after, he called to say his parents wanted to meet me. I asked, “What do they have planned? I hope they’re not plotting something against me.” He laughed and said, “They’re softening their stance. We’ll be fine.” That day, sitting across from his father with his mother beside me, I felt incredibly uncomfortable and wanted to leave. However, his father calmly apologized for not meeting me sooner, stating, “My son truly loves you and wants to build a life with you. We have no choice but to give you our blessing.” His mother remained silent.

I asked James, “What changed? What did you do differently?”

He replied, “I sent a group of family members to speak with them. Our pastor also visited with a church delegation. But here’s a secret: my father’s father didn’t raise him. It was his stepfather who took him to school and cared for him until he graduated and started his own career. His mother married his stepfather when he was just six, and they remained married until his stepfather passed away. Many people didn’t even realize he was a stepson, so why wouldn’t he allow me to have stepchildren of my own?”

Wow. Every family has its own story. Until shared, you’ll never know the journey they’ve taken to become who they are. We married in 2011, and after nine years of happiness, I now understand why we had to endure so many challenges and waiting periods before tying the knot. Good things take time, but when they finally arrive, you realize the effort was worth it.

We have two children together, and all four kids have been raised in a loving environment. They don’t know that my children have different fathers; they see each other as siblings. Before we had our own kids, James took my children to school, brought them home, and helped them with their homework. He would take them out on weekends, returning with fun surprises. For the first time, I saw genuine smiles on their faces, as if they had found something they had lost long ago. The father figure they had missed was now present, and their hearts were filled with joy.

James’ parents have come to accept me as one of their own. Until his mother passed away recently, she spoke to me daily, and I visited them almost every weekend. She often said, “You’re like the second child I never had.” I replied, “Thank you for giving me the best man I could ever find on this earth. May God bless her where she is.” My mother, however, remains anxious. Even after nine years of marriage, she still worries that something could disrupt our happiness. I reassured her, “There’s no curse. We just encountered too many wrong people. We needed to find the right one to correct all the past mistakes.”

James—my dear James, may God bless the winds that brought him into my life. It may sound cliché, but he truly is the best thing that ever happened to me. He embodies love and care, and he represents all the good things needed to break an age-old family curse.

—Anita  
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