My Wife Got Pregnant When My Two Side Chicks Were Already Pregnant!

Three years ago, when I married my wife, I thought I had finally found stability. We created routines that made us feel like the perfect couple. Every Friday night we went out on dates, sometimes to try new restaurants, other times just walking around town holding hands. Saturday nights were for movies, cuddling on the couch, and laughing at old jokes we’d shared since dating. Sundays were our favourite: church in the morning, lunch afterwards, then both of us writing three lessons from the sermon and discussing them like two best friends doing homework together.

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Everything felt easy. Everything felt right. Our intimate life wasn’t fireworks, but it was enough to keep the bond alive. I went to bed every night grateful for my wife.

But a year later, something changed. It didn’t happen suddenly; it happened silently, slowly, like water dripping into a bucket until it spills over. She became tired all the time. Not normal tired, but too tired for everything that made our marriage vibrant. Too tired for Friday nights out. Too tired for Saturday movie nights. Too tired for intimacy week after week.

When I begged her for just one night out, she would say, “I’m exhausted. Maybe next week.” And “next week” became “next month,” until we stopped going anywhere altogether. The rejection began to wear a hole in my heart.

One Friday, after reminding her all week about our date, she looked at me and said, “You can go alone. I’m too tired.”

Out of anger, and maybe sadness, I went alone just so my mind wouldn’t explode. That night, I met people who made me feel seen again. Women laughed with me, joked with me, flirted with me. One woman stayed by my side the whole night talking. For a second, I wanted to ask for her number. But I forced myself to remember I had a wife at home, and that I still wanted my marriage to work.

When I returned at midnight, the sight of her wide awake watching TV annoyed me. “So you’re not tired?” I asked. “If it was me watching a movie with you, you would have slept.” She calmly said, “I’m distracting myself while waiting for you.”

We talked that night. Real deep conversation. I expressed how neglected I felt. She said, “But if I’m tired, I should force myself to do things that you want me to do? Don’t you care about my health?” I thought the chores were part of the stress, so I began doing more, cleaning, washing, cooking and hoping she’d feel lighter and return to me emotionally. But nothing changed. Our intimacy grew worse. She rejected me constantly.

I started feeling invisible in my own home. One month passed with no intimacy and no affection. Every attempt I made was met with “I’m tired.” Eventually, I stepped into the world looking for something, anything that felt like love.

I called old exes just to test if there was still a spark. Nothing. Then I met Felicia, a nurse I knew from the hospital. She was warm, easy to talk to, and surprisingly affectionate. Before long, we were dating. After a few months of dating, I still was not fulfilled the way I thought I would so I got another lady, Frema. She was younger and creative in bed.

I stopped demanding intimacy from my wife. I stopped arguing. Emotionally, I checked out and allowed myself to be celebrated elsewhere. Then my world exploded.

Frema told me she was pregnant. She refused every suggestion of aborting. She said she had already had one abortion and would never do another. I panicked and begged but she was firm. I pleaded with her and even promised her money I didn’t have. She still said no.

While I was on Frema begging her to let the pregnancy go, Felicia texted one early morning, “I tested. I’m pregnant. We need to talk.”

When I rushed to see her, she told me she was keeping her baby because she was over thirty and didn’t know if she’d ever conceive again. These two women refused to listen. They kept the pregnancies.

For months I couldn’t sleep. I was constantly afraid my phone would ring when my wife was near. I tried pushing the women away with anger and threats. I even threw around DNA threats, but they still held on.

Today, both pregnancies are five months in.

Then yesterday, my wife came dancing to me singing, “The Lord has done it finally, finally, finally!” She was glowing, holding her pregnancy test like a trophy. I forced a smile and pretended to be happy but inside I felt my world collapsing. In my mind, I was calling the year a bad year because tell me how I could get three women pregnant in the same year?

My wife is excited. Planning names. Calling relatives. Meanwhile, I’m drowning silently. I know when the babies arrive, everything will scatter. I won’t be able to hide or lie anymore. My wife will break. My marriage will shatter. My reputation will burn.

My elder brother knows everything. He says I should tell our mother but I’m terrified. That woman cannot keep a secret. If she hears it today, the whole church, neighbourhood, and extended family will hear it tomorrow.

Now I’m stuck. Should I tell my wife now? Or wait until the babies come and confess then?

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Either way, my life is heading toward destruction and I don’t know how to stop it. I feel like a man trapped in a burning building with no exit. Yes, I made wrong choices but I also feel like loneliness and rejection pushed me there.

How do I handle this without destroying myself completely? How do I tell my wife I have two more babies coming when she is celebrating the one she’s carrying? I feel like I’m already living in hell.

—Owura

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