I was married for ten years, lost two babies and escaped with one

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I was married for ten years, lost two babies and escaped with one.  My surviving child was entirely by the mercies of God.

When I was expectant, my husband used to hurl me roughly around the house and hit me anyhow.  It was miraculous how I did not fall on the stomach and have a miscarriage.  The baby used to be so scared in the womb that my abdomen was ever taut - a contracting uterus.  I would massage my taut abdomen and talk to the baby, gently reassuring him that I was there to protect him and that no harm would befall him.  By God’s grace, I carried the pregnancy to term.

For four days in the hospital, I watched people come, give birth and go. What was wrong with me?  I would labour intensely at night, only for it to disappear altogether at sunrise.  It was as if my baby did not want to come into this world.  In the wee hours of the 5th morning, I thought I was going to die, so I looked for a secluded spot in the hospital and had a one-on-one talk with God, bearing it all.

I returned to my bed to lie down and die.  I was exhausted.  No sooner had I climbed onto my bed than the urge to push came by reflex.  The other mothers shouted for help and urged me to run to the delivery room. I could only crawl.  On reaching the delivery room, there was no space on the delivery tables. The midwife shouted at me and threated me with dire consequences should I deliver on the floor.  She made me lie on the side.  When my turn on the delivery table finally came, the urge to push was gone.  The midwives really taunted me.  I did not understand what was going on – and probably never will – because that was the first and last time I brought a new life into this world.  They told me I had killed my baby.  No! Not a dead baby again!  Tears rolled down my cheeks and I began to push by faith, though the reflex was not there anymore.  The two midwives changed their attitude and begun to frantically help adjust my position and give me instructions on what to do.  Finally I felt my baby come out. The baby did not cry. They did all manner of things to it while holding it upside down.  I held my breath and begged God to intervene. It finally made some muffled sounds and I knew it was alive – thank God!  They brought it to me and asked me to confirm the sex.  I confirmed that it was a baby boy.  He was so small and shriveled, weighing only 2.9 Kgs.  They quickly wrapped him up, tagged his little wrist and whisked him away. The time was 7 am. Once through with me, I was ordered out of the delivery room.  My baby? “Go and rest!”  The midwife snapped.  Of course I could not rest.  They should have let me hold my baby.

The baby slept for more than 12 hours.  Whenever I sneaked into the nursery to check on him, he was asleep, and I would be ejected by the nurses:  “When he awakes we will bring him to you.”  By 8pm, I could not take it anymore.  I sneaked into the nursery and walked out with my sleeping baby.  On the corridors I met the doctor and asked him why the baby had not awakened to demand for a feed.  He assured me that the baby was fine, only tired.  Once I reached my bed, I coaxed the baby until he opened his tiny mouth and I placed the nipple.  He begun to suckle.  No milk!  Then the crying begun, in earnest, because of hunger.  The nurses had to prepare some formula milk to calm him down.  What a relief!  My baby was just fine.

When I went to weigh him after 6 weeks, he was 4.5 Kgs and not shriveled anymore.  He was a very normal baby, glory be to God! What a joy to be called “MUM” among the living women!