There are very few women who will tell you that they love pregnancy. If they do then I am calling them right now to say they are liars. There are those who are brave enough to say what if God is a woman? Really? As a woman the things you go through at times you can never wish on another human. Period pains are the worst creation ever made and it is us women that carry that burden and I must say this pain I was feeling makes me miss them! Pregnancy though with a beautiful result is often a nightmare. Already I had had bouts of swollen feet, itchy nipples, morning sickness you name it. It’s like everything negative associated with pregnancy I had been cursed with. This was just the latest thing. It was very much a difficult pregnancy. I sat on the bed then on the floor because that is how painful it was. One part of me was telling me that I want this thing out of me just to alleviate the pain whilst another part was saying no, it’s too soon! At this stage I Wass crying and whilst I was not exactly screaming the moaning and groaning I was making made it sound similar. Mudenda was in panic mode!
There are some truths we try and avoid and one of this is that our men are often not “man enough”! It’s a difficult concept to grasp but most females get it. Mudenda was not sure what to do and all he kept on asking me was if I was ok and what he must do. Physically Mudenda was not strong enough to pick me up. This means simply he could not lift me up and carry me to the car. That thought kills me because I was in so much pain. We decided that he should drive me to the hospital as it was not far. He pulled me up and in that pain I walked to the car. When we got outside his neighbor, a white guy was walking out and he saw us. We had never spoken to us before. He asked what was wrong but he concluded very quickly that I was the sick one. He offered us help of which as soon as we said yes help was needed he lifted me up and asked Mudenda where his car was. Yah neh. Mudenda watched another man lift me up and carry me to his car. He said unfortunately he was in a rush somewhere otherwise he would have come with us. Fair enough. Eventually we were on our way. It’s funny how things work but as we got to the hospital the pain started subsidising. It was still painful but now I could at least sit up with no help. When we got there there were two male nurses outside and he asked them for help. One of them ran and got us a wheel chair whilst the other started attending to me by the car. I was on medical aid. I must emphasise that this is probably one of the most important things in your life because without it I would be sitting in a long queue at a government facility in all this pain.
A doctor came to see me and I was taken into a private room to be examined. It took about thirty minutes for the doctor to say,
“Ma’am I am not sure about the source of your pain but from my initial scans I don’t see anything wrong physically with you and the baby for that matter!”
He said. With the pain I had just experienced this man had got to be kidding me. It’s not a black thing to ask for a second opinion because simply speaking we cannot afford the extra costs.
“Doctor, the pain I felt was the worst thing I have ever experienced in my life and even now the spot is still tender and painful.”
He said he believed me and his diagnosis was probably stress induced. He could see the look on my face was one of confusion because for a black person especially, stress is not painful, it can cause a headache every now and again but the extant of what stress means to us. He gave me painkillers for the pain but recommended that I stay in hospital one night so that he could be thorough and monitor me. He warned me that stress can even cause the onset of a heart attack or panick attacks masked as one so I should be very careful for now onwards for the sake of the baby. He asked me why I was not happy because this was a false alarm and my baby was perfectly fine. It was easier said than done. When you are dating a black man stress is something that comes naturally and within the territory.
Mudenda eventually came in. He had not been in the examining room himself.
“Did we lose the baby?”
Was the first thing he asked. I am sorry but to me that was both insensitive and cold because why could he not have asked me “is the baby fine!” I did not say anything though because what I had just gone through but I told him not to worry he was still going to be a daddy. I tried not look at his face because I was worried that if I saw disappointment I would have another panic attack or whatever the doctor had called it. He came and he hugged me and told me how sorry he was for earlier on and that he was wrong. I told him it was ok and told him to take my phone and track that guy down so that he can know that it was a lie and whatever he had been thinking was wrong. That was the level of my confidence even though I knew it would never match the depth of his pride. He would never do it.
I was admitted. I sent my mother a message after I tried to call her but she had not picked up.
“I am in hospital. I almost lost the baby but I am fine. They say that I need to be monitored.”
She did not reply so I fell asleep at some point after Mudenda had left. When I woke up it was already evening. I had a text from my mom and this was the first time in three months. It read,
“It’s your baby! I told you not get pregnant and you did not listen! Good luck!”
I kid you not!
Michael Nkululeko Maphoto (fb)
I am certain you get this all the time but you are a remarkable writer. Thank you for sharing this gift.
My problem: I am a widowed woman and am 29 with two kids from my husband. We were married for five years. When he died two other kids crawled out of the woodwork. Both give or take the same age as my kids but with different mothers. I will call the mother Lerato and Buhle. Lerato and I sat down and we discussed. We are working well together and money from his estate is being shared with her the same as my kids. Buhle however has taken me to court and so on demanding more and it seems my husbands family supports her. They accuse me of killing their son because when he died I was driving. We were hit by another car of which the other driver was even arrested for being drunk. They have cut off my two kids and myself from that family. This is giving Buhle more and more courage. She calls at night to harrass me and calls me a murderer. She went to my church and called me a witch in front of my pastors. I went to get a protection order but the woman is relentless. I am now the victim of my husbands infidelity and I am dying inside.