Landing here was not easy. I has sent several curriculum vitae which as expected never pushed through. My friends from the university had the opinion that the secretaries never forwarded any documents. They simply trashed them and a few days when you went to follow your application they faked amnesia.
I got the phone call asking me to report to Times Towers when I least expected it. Days had passed and I had resigned to my fate of never getting an internship opportunity. This was it. The first thing I did was to google a you tube tutorial on “What to wear on your first day at work.”And based on my wardrobe, I narrowed down my choices to something fitting and decent.
The first day as expected I was a nervous wreck could not wait for lunch so that I could finally breathe and of course get to gobble down some fries. This activity was repeated every lunch hour through the week and when I finally stood at the scale in my brother’s bedroom it read 61. I had never hit 60 kg and when I was in high school where I consumed tones and tones of blue band, it always read just below 55 so this was a real surprise. I blamed the fries.
There was this day I felt my breast when dressing to work and they felt really sour. I also could not stand the scent of vanilla but nothing ever crossed my mind. But when my favorite blue skirt refused to zip up, that’s the moment I was alarmed. So I helped myself to a pregnancy kit test from my then boyfriend’s drawers and my suspicions were immediately confirmed.
I wept for my mother. How disappointed she would be of me. I did not mind being pregnant but I did mind embarrassing my mother. She had previously told me that incase I fell pregnant that would be the cause of her death. I imagined her face in a coffin and an idea struck me. I had to get rid of it. My then boyfriend, being a medic, quickly got me the mistropol drugs which I took after confessing my sins and actions to God.
God must have been laughing his ribs out, as he clearly had other plans. I bled for two whole weeks. Heavy bleeding with cramps but later on, I still felt a mass at my lower abdomen. So I decided to go for an ultrasound scan which came out positive. My son was 8 weeks old and I had never aborted him after all. So I don’t know what I bled, but he was still inside me. This was a miracle and I was not going to waste an opportunity to be a mother again. I was only 20years, a third year university student but this didn’t matter anymore.
I terminated my internship and travelled back home. My mother, being the woman she is, smelled my pregnancy from miles away and of course made a scene by texting and calling all close relatives to share my misfortune. I never took a semester off neither did I ask for help from my parents. I was at their mercy and they made a point to remind me of it.
I was in labor on 17th January 2015 and endured eight hours of strong labor pains. I remember walking along the hospital corridors barefoot and vomiting at the same time. With the help of the women at the maternity ward, they instructed me how to push, a lesson I was grateful for. I remember wanting to pee which I couldn’t as it made me push prematurely. Later on the doctor was able to insert a catheter and I felt relieved. At 10.30 am in the morning, baby Reign was born. I saw him, saw his lips and knew he was truly mine. He weighed 3.5 kilograms (thank you fries).
He is 2 years now and calls me “mummyna”, then calls all my three names. But I don’t mind. I will never mind. My little gift from God. He still doesn’t know his story but someday I’ll get the courage to let him know when he becomes a man. I’ll teach him to never to let someone’s daughter go through the ordeal I went through. Children are God’s blessings no matter how wrong the timing is.