I got married at the young age of 20. I and my husband decided to wait a year before having kids.
I remember telling my husband the good news about my pregnancy; he hugged me, kissed me and we made beautiful love. Lucky for us, it was the Christmas holidays, so we had all the time on earth to sleep in all day. I woke up the next day to the aroma of pancake and toast, served on a tray with a rose petal, and right beside me was my husband smiling at me like the day we met on a flight back from Scotland. The pancake was really crappy but the gesture left me with an amazing feeling. I did marry a lovely man.
The weeks that followed were the loveliest I have ever had. He took me to and fro work, cooked for me whenever he could (though I told him to stop so we could eat better food), washed, cooked and the best of all, he went to the market for me. It was my first baby so everything seemed beautiful.
The first trimester came and went without any form of throwing up or excessive sleeping unlike Nkiru sylvanus' disgusting Nollywood pregnancy scene. On the fourth month, paranoia took the best of me and I took home pregnancy tests every morning for a week just to confirm that I was still pregnant. They all came out positive but that didn’t convince me. As the days passed without any change, my fear increased. No increase in size, no tummy protrusion…all my fantasies of holding my back and dragging my feet with my swollen tummy came crashing. As the anxiety increased, my weight loss increased too. And to make matters worse, some of my friends kept asking incessantly if I was watching my weight. I had to talk to my husband; not because I loved him so much but because someone has to take part in the fear.
"Babe, I think I lost our baby”, I said in tears. He screamed.
"How?" "When?" "Where?" "Were you at the office when it happened?" "Did you see a doctor?" "Who took you to see a doctor?" He punctuated every question with "OH GOD!..."
“But wait, did you say you think?” he asked “You think?”
"Yes I think." In between my tears, I relayed my fears.
“Did you see blood?” he asked
“No. Must I see?” I replied
"Did you feel pain?"
"No."
“Did you see your period?” he asked
"No but I missed it sometimes, even though I wasn’t pregnant."
“Did you hit your tummy on anything?"
"No but I’ve been lying on my tummy."
When all the answers to my husband's questions proved that I couldn't have possibly miscarried the baby, I concluded that it had evaporated.
"Maybe it evaporated"
I said in a very coy way. He laughed.
We were both at a loss and the only solution we had was to go see a doctor who confirmed that there had not been any baby evaporation.
Then, all hell broke loose on a certain Thursday morning. I woke up with a jerk and knew I had to throw up. Before I could swing off the bed, I had already thrown up all over Nelson's face (my husband). There was no time for apologies because more seemed to be on the way. I ran to the toilet, knocking over everything along the way in the process, bent over the toilet bowl and threw up my guts until I was breathless. Thank God the toilet and the kitchen have always been my pride in my home so I didn’t mind sitting on the floor. I waited for my husband to come running to my side but sadly, that was not the case. When it felt like my ass was about to catch a cold from sitting on the cold floor, I respectfully walked back to the room only to find him sound asleep and cuddled in my vomit. Adorable! However, the pain I was in outweighed the love I felt for him so I let him savor the moment for some minutes.
“wake up Nelson" I patted him on the leg, a shy away from screaming in disgust. He raised his long fair fingers to his face, Then jumped up when he felt something, I didn't need to tell him that it was my vomit.
"Babes, what the f**k?" he muttered under his breath
All the need to apologize vanished into thin air when I heard him say the "F" word. The pain i felt couldn't quell my anger but I stopped myself from screaming at him by climbing into bed. He left the room to clean off or whatever. By the time he came back, I'd thrown up everywhere - the bed, the floor, the wardrobe, everywhere! A Sharp pain kept knocking me off my feet every time I tried to stand up. Nelson carried me to the rest room and held my hair as I threw up incessantly. Afterwards, he carried me to another room while he cleared ours that reeked of vomit.
The weeks that followed made me wish I didn't say a certain prayer. I missed work, got hospitalized...I bet Nelson wished he could put me in a quarantine bag so I could do all my vomiting in it. He took care of me like a baby and I loved him more than ever. Indeed, I married a good man!
I finally got better, still pregnant...thankfully! Things got back to normal but with a very heavy body and stomach. I added like one kg or more every week. I am the only one to blame sha, as I kept eating like a mad person. At the office, nice people called me cow (you don't want to know what the not nice ones called me).
I had a crucial meeting one morning that would determine if my company would write a transaction worth thousands of dollars. As usual, I arranged my favorite skirt suit, favorite pair of shoes and bag, ear rings, everything...and I visioned how good I'd look in it. What met me in the morning was amazing. The skirt wouldn't zip up, the jacket was a no no! Gosh! Had the pregnancy taken over my common sense too? What made me think I could've worn it when I must've put on an extra of 17kg. I tried on every clean stuff in the wardrobe, nothing fit. Nelson too had some important stuff to do so he called our cab man for me and left me to deal with my wardrobe pandemonium.
In my frustration, I knocked on my neighbor's door and asked for something to wear. The weird look she gave me wasn't surprising, since we'd never spoken to each other, but then, Nigerians don't say "NO" to pregnant women. She had bad taste in clothes but I was desperate. The only thing that fit a bit was one iro and buba made with the most agonizing looking material ever. She must have worn it for a burial, I thought. I thanked her and ran to my room to use my mirror...I stood there and thought "THIS IS WRONG". Was it me or a carpenter that made the chair I was wearing? I called in to say I couldn't make the office only to hear that the meeting had been postponed. Thank God!
Throughout the day, I craved anything edible. I devoured everything in the fridge and still wanted more. It seemed like someone turned on the hunger switch and forgot to turn it off. I sat like a Dorothy in the sitting room and an awesome aroma of well cooked banga soup slowly got me on my feet. Like a dog in slow motion, I sniffed towards its direction, careful not to lose track of it. It led me to my kitchen window where I stopped and wished it was a door instead. I stood there like I was in a trance and took in the aroma but it wasn't enough. I hurriedly tied a wrapper over my nightwear and went food hunting.
The compound has a block of eight flats and we stay on the last floor. I stopped to sniff on each floor but the aroma went on. I followed it until I got outside the gate.
I put all shame aside and went knocking on the door I felt it came from. A little girl of about 5 years old answered.
"Hi darling! How are you?" I asked, but was too impatient for a reply. "Are you the one cooking?"
"Cooking what?" she asked.
"Banga soup."
"What is banga soup?" she asked.
I cursed under my breath but went on to explain to her after which she simply said, "I cannot cook."
Gosh! I walked away to the next floor. Annoying smart child! Woe betide you when I catch you riding your bike...mtchew!
Decided to give it one more try before heading back to my flat. The next door opened and I didn't bother asking if the aroma came from there. It's here! I couldn't hide my excitement as I announced, "I want to eat banga soup!" Thankfully it was my friends flat.
She looked at me understandably and invited me in. "You'd have to wait a bit though. The rice isn't done yet" she said.
I nodded. I counted every second as I waited. She tried starting up a conversation but I had my mind fixed on one thing only. I shifted positions in anticipation of what cometh, only for her to come out with an apologetic face to say that the cooking gas just finished. Before I could stop myself, I screamed! "CHAI! HEI! Is there no way we can sieve the water from it?"
She agreed and I invited her to come over to my house to finish her cooking. I ate it hot and only realized that my throat hurt when I was done and breathless. An hour later, I threw up all the food. Great! Just great! When Nelson came in bitching about how horrible his day went, I smiled. If only he knew how mine went.
On one of my many evening strolls, I found treasure - boiled corn! I bought 3. They were hot, just the way I wanted them. I hurriedly got home, showered and relaxed to eat my lovely corn. With the first bite, my tooth chipped off. Ah! The corn was as hard as concrete. Geez! Who sells this kinda thing to people? No! This is wrong! Who sells maize meant for cultivation to people as fresh corn. I would need to pound it a bit to soften it. I wrapped the crap and headed back to where I bought it from only to find the woman gone. Mtchew! In my protest, I looked around and discovered yet another treasure - roadside mama put!
Whew! I jumped the gutter in front of the woman and placed my order...rice, beans, fresh fish, chicken, roundabout...assorted. I sat to eat and pulled up my top so my big tummy could breath. Flies won't let me eat! They know good food too. I saw that everyone there had a hand fan so I asked for mine. We all ate with one hand then fanned ourselves and pursued flies with the other. Talk about multitasking! When I was done, I stretched out on the seat to allow the food digest, only to be woken by a tap. Nelson!
"What are you doing here?" we both asked at the same time.
"I came to eat" I replied.
"Eat? Here? Is there no food at home?" he asked.
I didn't bother replying because I knew it wouldn't help. All I said was "BRODA, abeg pay for the food" with a sarcastic smirk
"How did you intend to pay for it before I drove by and saw you snoring with your mouth wide open?" he asked with a chuckle.
How cute! I left him for the car while he paid for the food.
"Nne, you just downed 4,500 bucks" he said as he joined me in the car.
"Four what?!" I sat up ready to jump down and ask for my money. Is it mama put or Sheraton Hotel?
He smiled and asked me not to worry.
"Baby, our small bump is really driving you crazy" he said with a smile. At home, he rubbed my feet until I fell asleep.
I got restless and kept turning in bed. I rolled here and there and then over him just to wake him up.
"Nne, what is it?"
"I want to eat egedengbu."
He slowly sat up and robbed his eyes, stroked his long fair nose and gave me a confused look with his very sleepy eyes. I could see how much nuisance I was becoming but I choptas not! "I don't know what that is but it sounds like something only grandmothers can cook" he said and tried lying down to sleep. I burst into tears and cried loudly. He got on the phone and called all my aunts who didn't mind answering by that time of the night 'cos they thought I'd gone into labor only to hear that all I wanted was egedengbu. The youngest of them all agreed to help and asked us to come over in the morning. Before daybreak, I was ready.
We got there around 9am to find all my aunts around. They made fun of me and chided my husband for pampering me a lot. The egede wasn't ready so we had to wait. My aunt's baby sat on the dining eating a plate of indomie which I kept staring at longingly. My aunt noticed and served me a plate. I ate it with the speed of light and by the time the egede got ready, I'd lost all appetite for it. I still ate it to avoid being slapped into labor.
For Mothers. Especially Ify for inspiring this post wish you a safe delivery and I hope it's a girl.
