SCARRED - FINAL EPISODE BABY TJ

Aunty called the person she was closest to in the area, but she also said that her husband had traveled with the car. I became all panicky, but thank God for the amazing people I was surrounded with, not one of them panicked, not Uncle Dayo, Aunty Ola or even Mommy Ado (Granny) panicked.

By 1:45 am, I told them I could wait till very early in the morning. The pain was still bearable, besides, at that time, I was not about to head to the hospital to deliver my girl, so we waited. It was as though we were all in labor together; Uncle Dayo and Aunty Ola did not sleep a wink. Aunty Ola kept asking “Bawo wa ni bayi? Bawo lo se’n feel? (How is it? How are you feeling?) I kept reassuring her that I was fine. I remember Uncle Dayo’s eyes were bloodshot red because he took his eye prescription but was unable to get the needed rest.

By 5:30 am, I showered, put on a yellow Caribbean dress with brown earrings and styled my braids. I was quite tired, so I sat on the rug and rested my back on the couch. Granny asked if I was hungry, I said no but she insisted that I put something in my tummy, so she prepared ogi for me. I managed to take just a little. Aunty Ola then came up with a plan as to how we would go to the hospital; there were so many aprokos on the street, so she suggested we head to the hospital together and then she’d come back to get the hospital bag later.

On arriving at the hospital, the nurses beamed with so much joy. “Our baby will be here today o,” Nurse Bukola said.

I was taken into the ward so I could be prepped for delivery.

Immediately we settled in and after I had been set up on IV fluid, one of the midwives checked my cervix dilation and it was only 3 centimeters. What! In over 9 hours of being in labor!

Barely an hour later, contractions became more and more intense. My blood pressure was taken and boy, it was off the roof! 145/110!

I was told that I still had a long way to go; my cervix had to be dilated up to at least 8 centimeters before I could be wheeled into the labor room to deliver. At this point, I had begun to weep; the pain was UNBEARABLE!

A nurse suggested I took a walk around the hospital premises to help take my mind off the pain and maybe hasten the whole dilation process, so Aunty started taking me around. While we were walking, I began to cry to God to please help me. I remember saying, “God, please if I am in so much pain because of the sins I have committed, please forgive me and let this child come forth without a hitch. Please help me get through this.” Aunty kept comforting me, she said it was totally normal for labor to be painful because the baby was already “impatient” to come to the world.

Around 12:00 pm, I was checked again and my cervix dilation was still at 4 centimeters! I had finished two packs of IV fluid. (WHAT!)

Aunty Ola later went downstairs and came back with a bottle of Sprite and meat-pie for me so I could replenish, but my taste bud was just out of place. I was in pain and in that moment, all I wanted was to be delivered of the baby as soon as possible.

My back was killing me. I could barely sit nor stand; I was in an indescribable pain. Aunty began giving me a back rub while I paced with my movable IV pole.

By 3:00pm, my cervix was again checked. 5 centimeters. Oluwa mi!

The midwife then said that they’d have to perform an amniotomy (artificial rupture of membranes (AROM) i.e artificially breaking the amniotic fluid) so they could know how close the baby’s head was. With one painless simple flick of the amnihook ( the plastic tool used to and the amniotic sac and break the water), my amniotic fluid gushed out. Alas! It was dark green (meconium-stained) rather than the clear kind of water, indicating that Baby TJ was already in distress and as a result, pooped inside and most likely would develop something called Meconium Aspiration Syndrome if she is not urgently delivered or in my case, an emergency C-section since my cervix had not dilated enough for a baby’s head.

Unfortunately, the doctor was not on seat at that moment, he was said to have been stuck in traffic on his way back from a seminar. I was given some intravenous medication in order to normalize my BP quickly to prevent me from going into shock of any kind.

Some pills were also inserted into my v-jay-jay to protect the baby from infections because the amniotic fluid had been broken.

At this point, I’d become very weak, so I slept off.

I woke up to a pain down there as my doctor inserted his hand to measure my cervix dilation. It was now around 7:30pm, I had apparently fallen asleep for hours.

When I opened my eyes, I saw Uncle Dayo standing next to Aunty Ola, he was signing the consent form for my C-section. (They had put a call through to my dad who gave him the g0-ahead) I was also required to sign, so I did. I was prepped for the theatre and was wheeled in less than 10 minutes later. One of my favorite nurses, Nurse Bukky, even though her shift was over, insisted on staying back till I was out of the theatre.

Just as I was about to enter the theatre, there was a very heavy downpour of rain!

As I lay on the table in the theatre, I heard Aunty Ola scream from outside the door, “Please I need to pray with her,” to which the visiting surgeon that was to carry out my C-section replied, “Of course, madam, we will pray before we start.” Aunty insisted on personally praying with me but she could not be allowed into the theatre, so the door was lightly cracked open so she could just listen and participate in the prayer from afar. Everyone present in the theatre held hands formed a circle around me and the visiting surgeon led the prayer. Immediately after the prayer, the anesthesiologist was instructed to give me a specific amount of general anesthesia. Just as he started to cut me open, I was not totally numb as I could still feel the knife slightly tingly rather than hard and so I shouted, “I can still feel something! He instructed the anesthesiologist to add more and with that, I was totally “under.”

When you get general anesthesia, you're "put under," which means that you're totally unconscious and immobilized. You "go to sleep" and don't feel, sense or remember anything that happens after the drugs begin to work on your system.

While I was “under,” I don’t know if it was a dream or trance, I was in a maze and had to find my way out, but the strange thing is that I was not on my feet, rather I was lying on a mattress which kind of floated and at the same time was going down, all the while I was in the maze. Then, I heard a voice from the other end of the maze, “Say I will live. Hold on to that mattress and do not let go” so I started to say it and just as I began chanting it, the mattress started to float back up. I awoke to the roaring laughter of the doctors, talking about football (apparently surgeons don’t like tension in the theatre) just as they finished closing me and one of them said to me, “Oh yes, girl, you will live.” Apparently I chanted “I will live” to consciousness.

“Waah! Waah!! Waah!!! Baby TJ’s little scream! She weighed 2.95kg.

TJ was short for OLUWATOJUMI.

After cleaning her up, a nurse brought her to me and as though she could hear me, I whispered, “Hey there. This is Mommy. Welcome baby”

Getting up to the ward, I was quite impressed with what Aunty Ola had done with the wardrobe, she arranged it so neatly that one could almost live in the wardrobe itself. (LOL)

I had barely been on the bed for 5 minutes when my phone rang and it was my mom, “Ah, oko mi, congratulations. Oluwa seun o” she said, followed by some heavy prayer points and I could sense she was trying to hold back her tears; she was overwhelmed with joy. Almost immediately, my dad’s voice came across, “She is finally here. Congratulations dear. Our Murewa (the special name he’d been calling her even before she was born) is here!!” he said. I could almost feel his happiness over the phone.

Come the morrow, my mom travelled down as early as possible. She was already with us as at around 8:30 am. I was sleeping when she arrived. As soon as she came upstairs, she was already holding Baby TJ in her arms.

Aunty Ola then told me that they had only called to update Daddy about the whole labor and C-section situation because my mom would totally panic if she heard, so they kept it hush hush from her and was given the news of Baby TJ’s birth as a surprise after everything.

With C-section, there is no immediate discharge, so we were to stay at the hospital for about 6-7 days. Mommy and Aunty Ola kept taking turns sleeping at the hospital with us. Aunty Ola took my blood-stained cloths to wash. I was not permitted to eat solid food for about 48 hours after the surgery as they had to flush out every gas that might have accumulated during the C-section, so I kept taking tea, pap and custard. I was given a whole pack of Trebor Peppermint to chew on, so I could pass out the gas.

When I was cleared to eat, Aunty Ola would cook food and bring it over for me. I love noodles a whole lot, so she’d make them in as I often as I wanted and while she was going back home, she’d take my dirty laundry to wash.

Uncle Dayo brought Tofunmi and Seunfunmi to meet their “baby.” I remember Seunfunmi, who was a little over 1 year old tried to play with my catheter, not knowing what it was. (LOL)

But one thing we noticed with Baby TJ was that she slept a lot and barely fed. Of course newborns sleep a lot, but Baby TJ’s was quite concerning and tad bit scary. She was not latching at all and I was lactating, so my breasts were engorged, painful and tender; I was in massive pain and sometimes I would cry when the pain reached its peak.

We notified Dr. D who then advised that I pump the milk and maybe then she would feed from the bottle, but that was not the case and when she managed to feed, she threw up almost immediately. I entered panic mode 200%!

One night, misty-eyed, I held Baby TJ and started to whisper to her, “Jor o de jeun,” (Please try to feed) and to my surprise, she did. I could not contain my joy. Aunty Ola, my mom and the nurses were so happy.

That same night, the doctor asked that the baby be brought for cross examination of some sort, so the nurses came to get her and Aunty Ola went with them while my mom and I remained in the ward. A little while later, Aunty Ola dashed in, went briskly to the baby’s wardrobe just to take a change of cloth for her. I asked her why she needed a change of clothing, she said that the baby burped all over the one she had on but I was not buying it, I could sense something was wrong but Aunty Ola really did try to conceal her worry.

Mommy wanted to go with her but she insisted that the baby was with the doctor and tried to digress by saying, “Inu awon nurses yen dun o, Mommy. E ri wipe baby jeun daada ni.”(The nurses are so elated that baby finally fed. She fed so well) and dashed out almost immediately.

Minutes later, she came back upstairs to call my mom. At that moment, I knew something was not right but no one was telling me anything.

Very early the next morning, Dr. D came up to my ward and said, “We are referring the baby to my friend’s pediatric hospital in Anthony. Do not worry, she will be fine. We just need to run some tests.” Ehn! Oluwa o! When Aunty Ola came back upstairs, I begged her to tell me what was going on, she hesitated at first, then reluctantly, she said, “Ma ba ara je o. Last night when I came to take a change of cloth for the baby, she hadn’t burped all over her dress, she coughed up blood.” Mo gbe o! Blood? How? Why? She then told me that they had booked a cab and would head out to the pediatric hospital any minute. I insisted on going with them but who was I kidding, I could barely stand let alone walk.

Once again, I started to weep. I peeped through the window, looked downstairs and saw Aunty Ola and the nurse assigned to go with her, as they entered into the cab and left.

I was not the same. Mommy sighed heavily; she was trying to be strong for me. To make matters worse, my breasts were still engorged and had to be massaged constantly so as to let the breast milk out, only to have the milk thrown away; Baby TJ was in a different hospital now. I kept bugging and begging Aunty Ola to update me, which she did; she would send me pictures of everything from the baby’s ward, bed, even to the pint of blood she was receiving. (OH SHE CAN BE VERY DETAILED, THAT WOMAN. LOL)

In about 2 days, Baby TJ had changed and had put on some weight. Aunty Ola sent me pictures and said, “You see you have nothing to worry about abi? She is doing fine. Her cheeks are now robust. She is so pretty!” Only then could I manage to get some sleep or even eat. She stayed with the baby full time while Mommy and my baby sister stayed with me.

Discharge day came, I was extremely eager to hold my baby; I reeked of anxiety and anticipation. Dr. D told me to come back and get my stitches out in about 4 days. I was handed my prescription meds and the nurses assured me that the baby would be fine. Uncle Dayo drove us home.

I did not want to go home, all I wanted to be with Baby TJ but my family insisted that I needed to rest and anyways, she would coming home the next day. That night, Grandma prepared sumptuous rice and efo riro, I had no appetite but at everyone’s urging, I was able to eat a decent portion.

Come next morning, I woke up really eager; Baby TJ was coming home! Finally I get to hold my little angel.

Around 1:00 pm, Uncle Dayo left to bring them from the hospital and before 3:00 pm, they arrived home. Aunty Ola clutched Baby TJ in her arms with so much love in her eyes.

While Baby TJ was in the hospital, to make me feel better, Aunty Ola would give me a vivid plan on already how she’d plan to style TJ’s hair once she was 3 months old, how she would make people ask questions about when she put to bed because she had planned to carry Baby TJ around a lot. All these made me feel better, because I drew strength from her hope and faith.

As soon as they came upstairs, our next door neighbor, Mommy Bobby, came in to welcome the baby home and also to pray with us. After singing and praying, Mommy Bobby held the baby and after a while, she screamed, “Blood of Jesus! What is this?” I ran out of my room and saw Baby TJ’s dress filled some sticky green material, which she had vomited.

I panicked again but Aunty Ola assured me that the doctor told her that the baby had inhaled some of her own poop when she pooped inside me, thus developing Meconium Aspiration Syndrome (MAS) and that it was normal for her to throw it all up once the IV fluid started to cleanse her system. Phew! Relief!

Mommy travelled back later that afternoon, she had to go sort out some finances, I mean, my parents were paying 2 different hospital bills when Baby TJ and I were separated and Baby TJ’s bills nearly tripled mine. She told me she wanted to physically sort it all out because sometimes people are not so easy to track on phone. While she was away, she kept calling to check in on us almost every hour.

When I told Daddy about Baby TJ’s meconium-stained vomit, he also said that he had done some research online and found that it was normal for the baby to throw it all up.

Aunty Ola then proceeded to put Baby TJ in the beautiful crib they’d built up for her in my room. I also went in for a nap. After a few hours, around 9:30pm, I became worried again, I hadn’t heard her move or even cry as babies do when they are hungry. I thought it was a bit too much; she is a new born, she should be feeding but she still wasn’t. Just as I peeped into her crib with the intention of picking her up, I was alarmed by what I saw; her head was jerking, she was gasping for breath, almost as though she was having a seizure. Oluwa mi! What is this again?

I ran to the sitting room, screaming. “Ah! This new o! She did not do this at the hospital,” Aunty Ola said, while trying to conceal her worry again. She then suggested we take her back to the pediatric hospital, and we all went in Mommy Bobby’s car around 10:20pm.

Arriving at the hospital, the nurses on duty quickly showed us to a ward and Baby TJ was immediately placed on oxygen. God, what is all these?

The doctor then asked if I was the mother, to which I distraughtly replied, “Yes, sir. I am.” I could see the pity he had in his eyes for me.

We were invited into his office where he tried to make me feel better before catching us up on the baby’s latest development (s), but I was not having it. A single mom at my age, I had not heard anything from the baby’s father, I could not go back to school because of the pregnancy; I felt left behind.

The doctor told me that Baby TJ suffered from something called Birth Asphyxia (Perinatal asphyxia also known as neonatal asphyxia or birth asphyxia, is the medical condition resulting from deprivation of oxygen to a newborn infant that lasts long enough during the birth process to cause physical harm, usually to the brain.) He explained the causes and that the likely reason might be because she was in distress after she’d been trying to push her way out of me for the 21 hours I was in labor. Also, that the meconium-stained amniotic fluid was a sign that she needed to be brought out urgently but she was not and due to that, her brain might have been affected because she pushed for too long and also inhaled her own poop, hence the struggle to breath and the jerkiness. “This happens to a lot of babies in distress during labor. We will try our best,” he added.

At that point, it was almost like a voice in my head said, “you should have tried harder to get that abortion.”

I began to sob. I was exhausted, heartbroken and in pain. Aunty Ola, once again, began to pacify me, assuring me that all hope was not lost. She said all we could do was pray.

I barely slept a wink that night. I began to pray and cry to God the best way I could, for someone who was not all spiritual as at then, barely religious even.

I called my parents and began to weep and they did what any loving parents would do at that point; they assured me that she would be fine and that I should not panic. Daddy said she was a miracle baby, while Mommy tried to conceal her shaky voice and prayed for me.

Aunty Ola and Granny took turns sleeping over with us at the hospital. Aunty Ola would go home to bring us food, but my appetite was barely there. Baby TJ was taken off of oxygen the 2nd day, as she could now breathe on her own.

On our 3rd day in the hospital, it was Granny’s turn with us. At a point, I lay down next to her on her own bed and slid my index finger into her palm so she could feel me. I stroked her cheek with the back of my hand and kissed her. (WE HAD BARELY BONDED SINCE SHE WAS BORN) I picked her up, rocked her and whispered, “Oluwatojumi, please be fine for Mommy. I want to nurture you and teach you right from wrong. I want to raise you and teach you a lot of things especially being a fashionista like me.” She smelled beautifully baby-ish, I can almost still smell her till date. (COLOR ME CRAZY)

It was in that moment, as I rocked her in my arms, I looked down at her as she slept and all I could see were her father’s lips. She had his nose and lips. I put her back down, brought out my phone, took a picture of her and sent it him, with the following words, “Seyi, your daughter is fighting for her life at the hospital. She is only 10 days old. The most painful part is that she has your features. One call from you would mean a lot.” I got no reply.

That night, I read a bible passage and prayed with it. For someone who had not been really religious since after secondary school, I sure prayed strongly. About 2.5 hours into the prayer, with my bible on my chest, I dozed off.

I jolted up from sleep around 4:25 am and I immediately looked over to Baby TJ’s bed, she slept with one arm across her chest, so I looked closely at the arm, which normally should be moving up and down with every inhaling and exhaling she does, but it was still.

I froze then from the very top of my voice, screamed, “Grandma, e jor e bami wo baby!”(Please check the baby for me) she said, “O n sun ni,”(She’s asleep), to which I replied, “O gbe owo e s’aya, but owo yen o move! (The arm on her chest should be moving as she breathes but it is not). As soon as I said that, I flung myself towards her bed and stroked her cheek with the back of my hand…but…she…felt…as…cold…as… ice, then I screamed. “Grandma, omo yi tutu o” (The baby feels cold). I stood there in shock and denial. This can’t be happening. It is definitely a bad dream.

My very loud scream brought nearly everyone on duty to our room, my Granny began weeping and kept saying, “Jesu! Ah, Jesu!”

One of the doctors checked her, sighed deeply and said, “I am sorry. Baby is gone.”

Hearing those words, it was almost as though the ground beneath my feet shifted. I ran outside the hospital gate and kept running inside the estate and had to be chased, held down and brought back by 2 people. I refused to go back inside the hospital but a male nurse came, hugged me tight then urged and led me back inside. I froze at the reception, so the nurse assisted me to sit on a chair next to him and placed my head on his lap. His exact words were, “God does everything for a reason. You are very young and still have your whole life ahead of you. Please take it easy.” I told him how I should have tried harder to get an abortion but he told me I did the right thing by not having an abortion. He said that I gave her life rather than let her be abruptly taken away from inside of me.

I went inside, told the nurses to please step away from her body, so I could dress her myself. I searched for the most beautiful onesie and flannel in her wardrobe, removed the one she wore, put the new one on her, wrapped her in a pink flannel and combed her hair. After that, I picked up my phone, called Aunty Ola to tell her that Baby TJ had passed. Immediately those words dropped from my mouth, it was almost like she dropped the phone because I could hear her sob loudly in the background and the voice that came on next was Uncle Dayo’s, saying, “Ah! Pele Tolu, please take it easy. The baby was really a fighter. But God has a reason letting this happen.” I told him to help inform my parents; I did not know how to tell them that the support and love they’ve given me all the way me was all for nothing.

Few minutes later, my phone rang and it was my dad calling. When I picked, I could hear my mom already wailing in the background, “Ah! Iwo Olorun, ki lode to je ki oju Tolu riru eleyi.” (God, why did you allow Tolu to go through all these for nothing?). Although he tried to restrain his sniffles rather well, I could tell Daddy had also cried before picking up the phone to call. He said, “Tolu mi, please stay strong.” I began to apologize because the support they gave me was all for nothing. He quickly interrupted me, “Don’t say that. God has a reason for everything. All the same, we have to thank him,” making him the 3rd person to tell me “God has a reason,” I lost it and said, “Iru reason oshi wo niyen, Daddy? Omo kekere ara mi!” (What kind of stupid reason is that, Daddy? At my young age)

He reminded me that I still had my whole future ahead of me. Mommy could barely get a word in, she kept weeping uncontrollably.

Around 10:00 am, Uncle Dayo and Aunty Ola arrived at the hospital with Iya-Ibeji (My aunt), Uncle Kole (My uncle) and another friend of the family, Uncle Obele, who had conveyed them to the Mainland.

Inside the ward, I had lain beside Baby TJ’s tiny, cold body, slid my index finger into her cold palm before someone pulled me up from beside her. Everyone took turns comforting me while trying so hard to hold back their own tears. When the baby’s body was about to be packed, my uncles insisted I stepped out as it might be too painful to watch but I refused, so I stayed.

I stood there and watched as the baby I birthed 11 days ago was being wrapped and put in a bag, to be buried.

I could not stop wailing. I kept thinking of what it could have been like having a mini-me, to nurture her. I was filled with the guilt of not trying harder for the abortion and bringing forth the poor child to suffer. A huge part of me was gone!

Afterwards. Uncle Dayo and I were called into the doctor’s office to get Baby TJ’s death certificate. Uncle Dayo signed, collected and wrapped it neatly. (He would later hold on to it for years; it was difficult for him to dispose of it. The same with pictures he took of her when she was born)

When we came out of the doctor’s office, Uncle Dayo, Uncle Kole, Iya-Ibeji and Uncle Obele all got into the car and went with Baby TJ’s body, wrapped in a bag, to Atan Cemetery, Yaba, to lay her to rest while Aunty Ola, Granny and I went home.

When we arrived back home, Mommy was already there. She and Aunty Ola could not hold back anymore they out their cry. Mommy said, “I know I should be strong for you. But I am not strong at all. I know that baby will be happy wherever she is. You really took care of her and she really fought to stay with you but she could not. She knows you will always love her.” She also ended it with, “There is a reason for everything.” Aunty Ola also chorused it.

Was there really been a reason?

Mommy then told us about the whole scenario; Daddy was driving her to the park when he got the call from Uncle Dayo, and almost immediately he ended the call, he said that he wanted to make a quick stop at a church to see a pastor friend of his, which she was not buying at all. She could not recall my dad ever speaking of any pastor friend. It was almost as though he stopped at a random church.

On getting to the church, luckily, a pastor was present. Daddy asked her to wait in the car and after a few minutes of what seemed to be like a tete-a-tete with the pastor, he beckoned to her. She was asked to take a seat; it was there she began sensing that something was wrong. The man of God first prayed with them and then broke the news of Baby TJ’s death to her. Apparently, Daddy was looking for a way to break the news to her all the while trying to soften the blow. Honestly if he had told her in the car, Mommy could have flung the car door open on motion; she is that emotional.

Almost a year later, I travelled to India to continue my education.

Every September 29th, which is supposed to be Baby TJ’s birthday, I get all emotional and think about how beautifully she could have grown into a mini-me.

What was the point of living my life on What Ifs?

I carried my hatred and resentment for Seyi every day for years. I cursed him at every chance I got.

On several occasions in church, EAG Jalandhar, our pastor would make altar calls for people who can’t seem to forgive someone who’d wronged them, he would remind us how heavy the yoke of unforgiveness was and how it could hinder our very own prayers, but I didn’t bulge, until one day when it was too much to bear; I stepped forward, soaked in tears. It was right there and then I laid down all the hate that I brewed inside for Baby TJ’s father.

MEMORABLE EVENTS FROM WHEN I WAS PREGNANT:

• Daddy used to write me letters whenever mom came visiting. He said there were some things that he’d prefer to pen down with his handwriting rather than send an SMS. So in one of the letters, he listed baby names.

• After my parents sent me money for baby shopping, Aunty Ola took it upon herself to do the whole shopping. She left the house as early as 7:00 am and did not come back until around 8:00pm. She bought the most beautiful things a baby could ever have. (She is one person that has a very keen eye for beautiful things.) I especially loved the flannels. One day, reached up to where she kept stuff and gave me a beautiful white dress that my cousin, Tofunmi, wore for her christening and said she would love for Baby TJ to wear it for hers as well. I was so emotional. The dress was super beautiful. I remember she also presented a bible to Baby TJ, with the inscription “PRESENTED TO OUR BABY OLUTOJUMI AYOBAMI. WITH LOVE FROM OLUWATOFUNMI AND OLUWASEUNFUNMI” (my cousins).

• My mom came to visit a lot and when she did, she made it a routine to give me foot massage. She’d also place my head on her lap whenever I wanted to nap. I remember a day when Aunty prepared pounded yam and egusi, while we ate, I was craving more beef after I had eaten all of mine, so Mommy gave me both of hers and when I told her I would only take one, she told me she remembers what cravings felt like.

• As I got heavier, it became more and more difficult, while showering, to bend and wash from my waist down while so Aunty Ola placed a stool for me in the bathroom so I could sit and wash properly in the bathroom.

• Granny would always ask me to lift my shirt so she could see if my tummy had “come down.” Lol. (I THINK THAT WAS HOW THEY NEW HOW FAR ALONG A PREGNANT LADY WAS, IN THOSE DAY, EH?)

• Tofunmi and Seun both loved to sleep in my bed but as soon as they slept off, Aunty would come and whisk them away just because they will jarunpa(I HONESTLY KNOW WHAT THE ENGLISH WORD. LOL) and they may end up throwing a kick in my belly.

• Seun would raise my top and place his head on my bare rotund belly. He loved eating Coaster Biscuit so when he took a bite from it, he’d place the biscuit on my belly as though he was giving the baby a bite too. (AWW)

1. My brother and I gave her the name OLUWATOJUMI (TJ for short) meaning: God cares for me)

2. Aunty Ola gave her the name AYOBAMI, meaning: I am blessed with joy)

3. My dad gave her the name OMOMUREWA, meaning: A child born with blessing)

4. My mom gave her the name BOLUWATIFE, meaning: The will of God)

5. My sister gave her the name FIYINFOLUWA meaning: Give praise to God)

6. I also gave her the name OLAIYA meaning: A mother’s wealth (after Aunty Ola)

SEYI

January 1st, just as we finished our New Year service in church, my phone rang, I looked at my screen and at first I did not want to believe it. Of course, I knew that number by heart. It was Seyi calling me! I picked up, but at first said nothing, then, I heard a very soft, almost whispered, “Hello.” I pretended like I did not know who it was just so I was not wrong and said, “Who is this?” He then said, “It is me, Seyi” again I became silent. “How have you been? I got your number from your friend. Can we talk?” He added. I stood still for some seconds, I did not know what to say, I tried to say something but tears started to roll down my cheeks. I gathered momentum to say, “I am outside the church now. Please call me in a few hours. I should be home by then.”

I became confused so I called my friend and told her what went down, to which she said, “Ehn? What does he want? Wait till he calls back and hear him first.”

Hours later, in the evening (Indian time), he called me back. Still I could barely get a sentence in without my voice breaking.

The following then conversation ensued between us:

ME: Why?

HIM: I am so sorry, please forgive me. I was just scared. I did not know what to do? I am so sorry. Can you ever forgive me?

ME: But my Uncle Dayo called and told you to just show your face and that’s all. But you told him that you had impregnated a pastor’s daughter and you were not ready to take on another baby.

HIM: I lied. I panicked. Your baby was the only baby. There was no pastor’s daughter. I was just scared to death.

ME: (I began sobbing uncontrollably) All you had to do was just present yourself as the father. My parents would have taken care of the baby. Ok, what about the picture of her that I sent to you when she was at the hospital? At least you could have called having heard she’d been hospitalized. I had her through C-section for God’s sake! What if my family hadn’t supported me? What if I had died?

HIM: I swear I never got such message. It was Sola, your friend, who told my friends that the baby died and those one cussed me out badly. I swear I heard from them! I did not know that she died. I am so sorry. Please can you forgive me?

ME: (Wailing and sitting on the floor, holding my head with one hand) I cursed you in my heart with every chance I got. I carried that burden around for a long time but it did me no good. You hurt me! You really hurt me!

HIM: (At this point, his voice was breaking) I know. Please forgive me. I was stupid and naïve. Please!!!

I remembered how difficult it was carrying the burden of unforgiveness and forgave him for my own SANITY and PEACE OF MIND. It was extremely difficult, but I did. Cursing him won’t bring back Baby TJ, neither will it undo what had been done.

THE END.

PLEASE NOTE: I decided to publish this story because many of us carry a lot of burden in our hearts. We all have a past, we all have done something at a point that we felt slightly judged for, something we beat ourselves up for every day, something we wished we could have done differently. But our “mistakes” should not define us, rather we should be defined by how choose to get back up and make amends.

We should not have to bury our heads in fear of criticism and backlash. We all wear masks and only reveal what we want others to see.

So don’t be scared to REMOVE YOUR MASK! Many of those who will criticize you have their own darkest secrets.

I remain your girl,

Gwendoleen ‘Lope

Please don’t forget to sign up, read, like, comment and share. Watch this page for new updates weekly.