My infection had gone bad at this time, with whitish and creamy fluid coming out of my private. I knew I had no option this time other than to submit myself for treatment.
The drugs were intimidating and horrible but I didn’t have any other choice than to complete the dose. I took the drugs in pain and bitterness. After two weeks I was asked to go for scanning to know the level of my responsiveness to treatment. The doctor wasn’t satisfied with my condition so he placed me on another two weeks heavy treatment. Those times were close to hell for me. One whole month of swallowing pills and heavy antibiotics.
I became jealous of Sally as her pregnancy advanced by the day while I was battling with an infection. Three months later nothing happened, all my attempts to get pregnant never materialized. I became tired of life and wish I could just die. My inability to conceive turned into a nightmare. My husband had grown leaned for too much of sex yet I was not pregnant for once. I made a lot of research on Google and other fertility websites all to no avail. I forced my husband to see a specialist on my inability to conceive but I was advised to calm down and that I had no need to worry until after one year.
One year looked like ten years. I can’t wait for one year, I told myself. I must be pregnant next month by all means.
My phone rang while I was in the bathroom twice. When I came out to check my caller, it
was Sally. I called back, “hello Sally,’ ‘hello Maryam’, she greeted back. ‘I called to inform you that I was delivered of a baby boy yesterday,’ she said. I managed to congratulate her, I faked happiness but I was not happy deep inside of me. After we ended the conversation my body system changed immediately. Many evil thoughts took hold of me. My friend who we thought will not be able to get pregnant is now a mother, Maryam the holy virgin cannot achieve one day pregnancy. It was useless keeping my virginity all these years. I should have enjoyed myself like Sally did. All the years of denial were needless after all.
My husband came back from work that day with a news of promotion in his office. He was so excited about it but I was indifferent, neither did I show any sign of happiness. “Sweet heart, you didn’t even congratulate me for my new promotion,’ he queried. ‘Why should I congratulate you? Other men are impregnating their wives you, you are bringing promotion letter to the house. I want positive pregnancy test result in a white envelope not a promotion letter in a brown envelope.’ His countenance suddenly changed from good to bad. He just quietly left me in the sitting room to the bedroom. I went after him and screamed at the top of my voice, ‘impregnate me or I die! Strong and real men give their wives children.
My husband did not alter a word and that made it painful. I moved closed to him, held his cloth as if he was owing me money. ‘If you are man enough make me pregnant now,’ he held me and said in a calm tune, “God makes all things beautiful in his own time”.
Our marriage will soon be one year and I have not been seen with pregnancy. I no longer attended church regularly for shame and unnecessary questioning from church members. In fact, I began to hate those prayers people do whenever they see me. Those prayers makes everyone know you are waiting on the Lord for fruit of the womb. I started avoiding some women in church for the embarrassment from their so called prayers and wishes. This continued until I met with mama ibeji, they call her mama ibeji because she had a set of twins. She walked up to me after Sunday service, ‘Mrs Omeiza how are you?’ ‘I am fine ma’am’, I replied. ‘Can I have a chat with you? Yes ma’am.’ I already knew she was going to talk about conception because she’s one of those zealous women who will not mind their business in church. I just wanted her to say what she wanted to say so I can go. ‘I know what you are going through Mrs Omeiza because I was there too. I waited three years after our wedding before God answered me.’ I didn’t know she waited that long anyway before having her children. She told me about a pastor in Abaji who God has been using to answer the prayer of waiting mothers. She promised to take me there if I was willing. Why won’t I be willing? I want to carry my baby too.
How to tell my husband I want to go and see a prophet over conception is a big problem. He will never subscribe to that idea because he is a man of faith. I started thinking of lies and immediately I thought of telling him I want to go and see my mom. I got it all planned out with Iya ibeji and we took off to Abaji the following day. When we got to Abaji I was expecting Iya ibeji to take me to a church since we were going to see a prophet but I was shocked to my bones when we got into the hotel and iya ibeji bought a ticket in my name at the reception. I summoned courage to asked her, “ma I thought you said we are coming to see a prophet, why are we here in a hotel? Do you want to carry your baby or not? She asked me as she looked through my eyes. Of course I want to carry my baby. So I replied, ‘I want to carry my baby.’ It seems a section of the hotel have been leased to prophet David Evans for this work. We got to the section and met two other women on the waiting queue. We sat down and waited for our turn. When we got in, I was expecting to see a man on suit with a Bible on his table and probably a bottle of anointing oil but that was far from it.
Rather I saw a funky man with a well furnished office surrounded with beautiful electronic gadgets. This man can’t be a prophet, I thought within me.
What do you think Maryam is into? Let’s see in part nine.
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