Theme Layout

Boxed or Wide or Framed

Theme Translation

Display Featured Slider

Featured Slider Styles

Display Grid Slider

Grid Slider Styles

Display Trending Posts

Display Author Bio

Display Instagram Footer

Dark or Light Style

Powered by Blogger.

Search This Blog

Ade's Journal Part 6

Ade's Journal Part 6
My Valentine & The Elegance Of A Clean Breakup

Ade's Journal Part 5

Ade's Journal Part 5
My Scrumptious Valentine Kiss

Ade's Journal Part 4

Ade's Journal Part 4
A Scorpion is not a Lobster

Ade's Journal Part 3

Ade's Journal Part 3
My Insane Week Before Valentine

Ade's Journal Part 2

Ade's Journal Part 2
He Had The Guts To Come Back

Popular Posts

Saturday, 31 December 2016

Yanked Baby's Hands Off Womb And Tried To Cover Up


   The spawning of new life, takes time. It’s a mixture of good health, good diet and two beings of opposite sex, traditionally merging to forge a new being. The in-betweens, are rarely documented or captured. What matters is that, as the child grows, there’s hope of good health with no horrid challenges. And as I wait, for my baby to come to full term, I, a proud mother goes to the hospital, to deliver the child. Pain engulfs my every human cell, but I will not give up. I listen to the midwife and nurses and I count on their experience to bring my new child safely into this world. Prayers plagued my mind as I cry onto the Lord, as I will bring this child, morally upright and birth a genius. Hopes are on the father, now lost and absconded, to return and face his responsibility. Little does my naive mind and self know the first hand horror, I would be marked with, for life. The baby isn’t coming out and I am afraid, the doctor’s might recommend a c-section. I have no worries against the modern marvel, what scares me is the price required to do the procedure. The dollar is almost five hundred now, or so I am told. And my job is, I... I cook for brick layer’s and make maybe two thousand on a very good day. Which isn’t very common. I’m worried and I can tell from the look on the nurses that something is terribly wrong. The nurse helping my baby out, reassured me that my son will come out soon as she grabs his tiny arm, I wait. A very strange sound, echoes in this room and then, to top it all up, I heard a haunting gasp in the room. I feel a gush of liquid between my legs, but have faith that I am in experienced hands.
 Thousands of possible ways, today could have gone has plagued my turbulent mind. The sound and gasps of people hoping to see my miracle, come out of me. But, this is not my own story.
You don’t have to tell me what has happened, I knew. I start to scream and try to sit up. But the other nurses hold me down. I endure hands invading my womb, as I hear them say, I have lost the child. Try, to save my firstborn child, I beg them. But, the tears down the youngest nurse, tells me that I am hoping for a lost cause, almost all my hope is gone as they cluster around me. Death should have taken me instead, as I watch the nurses in horror.  They wrap and cover him and I try to carry his limp body. My boy, the son I should go home with, is dead. I want to unwrap and hold him, but the fuss and screams from the nurses, scare me. Is he deformed, are his limbs not present?  Questions, I ask as they, quickly cart away my lifeless child. No, I will not helplessly, lay flat and cry. I fight and try to stand and cannot believe, the amount of blood around my hips. Is this what giving birth feels like. What do I tell my mother, that warned me not to date or have a baby out of wedlock? Would my baby's daddy’s mother, rejoice? Now that I no longer have her son’s son? What happens now? Hours pass and I am numb and still crying and still in shock. Until the doctor’s rush in, shaking his head. Is my son alive, has he risen like Lazarus? It’s all I want to hear, a miracle. My mother rushes in after him, she loves me after all. Because, she never misses a chance to sell her secondhand clothes or for profit. I stop thinking and I grab her and wail, as if I just got the news. We both cry, until the doctor cannot take it anymore. He does not have good news instead, he  speaks words that stab at my aching heart. The nurse is hiding behind the other nurses and stamping her feet with arms folded over her head. I’m still trying to understand what he just said , to me. In my simple mind, I decided all he said to mean…. That the nurse, Yanked Baby's Hand Off Womb And Tried To Cover Up. Words were missing from my lips and in my head, the doctor had a moral obligation to tell me. I did not say or hear anything else from that moment. All I know is that I was biting at the nurses arm, and trying as much as possible to rip it from its ball and socket joint..
    I stare at the oil painting and at the mother, gnawing at the nurses arm. The doctor and mother try to pull her away and the dead baby falls from the wrapped cloth. As it does, it reveals the ripped off arm and the limp body, missing an arm. It was scary and intense and for the first time, in a long time, I was drawn to tears. I did not want to wipe it away, I wanted to feel the mothers pain.
  This artist, captured and interpreted this, real life horror story, in a manner that scared and moved me to tears.
'So, it really happened?’, I said and asked and just voiced out my sad opinion.
‘Ade, It should not go, unpunished’
‘Opeyemi, how? How does a nurse, a trained nurse, make such a mistake, kill a child and then, try to cover it all up’
‘Imagine, if the doctor did not raise the alarm ‘
‘Poor woman’, I was shaking my head and silently crying for the woman who has been traumatized by an event that should bring her joy. She was betrayed by the hospital and the wicked nurse.
'It is not going to be buried under the rug, this time. Now, she will get justice and I will shout and sing her story, until justice is served ‘
  I was watching the crowd behind and all around Opeyemi. She was fighting the good fight, making sure history was captured and catalogued. I admired her in that instance and wanted to publish my own journal. It too had captured every day Nigerian problems. Although, from my own selfless point of view, I think.
'Where you always an artist?’
 My question, surprised Opeyemi bit I could tell, she was used to the answer she gave.
'Yes, my mum used to flog me and tell me to stop drawing on everything. Now, she buys me every drawing material she sets her eyes upon. Now she flogs her grand kids, to draw and go into creativity’
'Your granddma still flogs?’, her answer shocked me.
  I could tell, that I embarrassed her a little.
‘Not like they used to beat us,back in the day. More like spanking’
‘Hope you tell her to let them be, every child has their specific area of interest’
‘Does she listen?’
   Opeyemi's answer made us all laugh. I wanted to stay, but a part of me said I should start going. And it’s a good thing that I did, because just as I drove off. I received a call from Nnoye.
'Ade, where you dey?’
‘I’m driving into my house’, it was obviously a lie.
 Nnoye had no clue, of course. But, Nnoye had this dangerous obsession with paparazzi and bad publicity.
'Okay, I will see you later then'
‘I’ll be at Ajoke’s’
 I lied, because I wanted to just stay indoors and sleep.
‘That your kolo friend will not let me into her house, she’s always using her twins as an excuse’
 I rolled my eyes at her and hate that traffic is building up. The horns go off and I almost swear but try hard to keep cool.
‘I thought you were already hone?’
 It was more of an accusation than an observation.
'A car broke down on my street'
‘And I almost drove there, thank God. So we will see tomorrow then’
‘In the new year’s, I add.
'that’s true, happy New Year in advance’
‘Same to you’
 The traffic got lighter and I drove towards my street.
‘Ade, later then'
‘Nnoye, later'

  Alone, in my living room. I just can’t help but miss my boo. Calling will not cut it, I need to Skype with him.
‘Where are you?’
'At the airport, just forty five away', Henrik said blowing me a kiss.
‘Hurry, back home o’
‘I’m coming home to you my love’
‘I’m waiting, my sweetheart’
   As I said the words, a warm feeling engulfed me and I knew I was always going to enjoy my relationship with Henrik.
The news programs were projecting images of people celebrating the New Year already. Australia and New Zealand was lit up with fireworks and celebrations.
  I’m listening and I realize that, for the first time in years. I did not hear fireworks outside, Lagos was quiet. No knockout or banger, thank God. I was always so scared so scared of them. Especially those naughty disrespectful kids that feel it’s fun to throw knockouts on a human being. The only reason that isn’t still practiced is because, most homes have fuel stored. All so they can enjoy and produce their own power supply in their homes.
 My beautiful country and its humongous problems, I hope that this New Year it gets better.
Do I make my New Year resolution now? Funny enough, I have already done this. Planned that I will be clear and write out my passions for this to be successful, to be passionate about my life choices and work. I promise to Continue to learn and grow in my field. Did I mention that I have a desire to become a fashion designer?
 I do and on the 4th of January 2017, I will March up to a fashion designing school and take up part time courses on anatomy and styling.
It maybe random, but it’s one thing. One dream I have always had and this year is the year, all my dreams come true.
 In a few hours, I will be taking bigger risks, be more efficient and reliable, be committed to doing whatever it takes to keep moving forward. I will renew my
Positive attitude, enthusiasm and commitment to achieve all my goals.
 Be open and Instinctively understand the importance of real-world experimentation, trial and error, and speed. Experimentation, feedback, failure, learning, adjustment, action-that's what successful people are all about, tight? Be willing to risk challenging conventional wisdom and prevailing approaches. Optimize time effectively and
Identify the tasks and activities with the highest priority and start there. I can’t wait to meet this, new improved me.
 Will it all be perfect?
No, I will embrace my mistakes. STOP! And check what’s working and what isn’t. Change what isn’t working and then find out what successful people in your field did to succeed. Learn to balance and organize performance so movement continues in a positive direction. And practice whatever, I preach career wise in other words be a doer.

  So, bring it on two thousand and seventeen, I am ready.
Are you?

**Season 1, Episode 96**

Share This Post :

You Might Also Like

No comments:

Post a Comment

Adebusola Ukayat Elegbede is a Playwright and Content creator with a passion for real life challenges. Born in Kaduna state and lives in Lagos Nigeria, she has a passion for story telling from the perspectives of characters in conflicting situations. I started out on the New Writing Project in Nigeria with the British Council Lagos Nigeria and The Royal Court Theatre, Sloane Square U.K. My passion for creating stories led to comic books, television drama's and an online journal on my website (busolaelegbede.com). As part of the WPIC in Stockholm Sweden 2012, the experience has forged life long friends and ignited my passion as a volunteer and advocate for human rights and the United Nations 17 Sustainable Development Goals.

Follow @Busola Elegbede