COMPELLED TO LABOUR
I wasn't ready for the showdown of the arrival of a baby, I wasn't ready for the drama that would take place, I was still in a state of physical coma, but the reality of the whole event snapped me to live when the cold outside the house that has turned to my bedroom was stubborn than I thought.
I was forced into the street, with no one telling me what to do, in a quest to make a living at least breathing and to be counted among the living who could give birth to an unborn child who was gentle, innocent and sitting simply when the pleasure of the flesh between me and my beloved brought the many when I am not ready.
I have always been a lucky person who has never but always gotten myself a job in a restaurant. I mean without a qualification and a pregnancy at my age, who will give me a job? Her sight before people, I was seen in the restaurant shows a clear sign of an abused girl. I was lucky to get a washing plate job and serve food to the customers in a restaurant. This is the work I'm doing with every amount of seriousness. So many ladies will use drugs to abort the baby which in most cases gives them a gift of damaged wombs. And it will lead to them having babies again. And some who are smart and brave decided to take abortion as a remedy paid with their lives, some died in the process.
I could have taken any of the above choices, but I was determined to prove that Emeka was responsible for the child inside my womb. It was this determination that gave me the courage. So I was so strong-willed that my mother doubted in her mind if I was truly her daughter. Despite my courage, determination and strong will, I was a serious advocate for life and have always condemned abortion. I have always had a love for children and have always wished to have one.
After a hard day of work, when everybody has gone home, I will Park to one side of the restaurant convert it to my sleeping room and close the door behind me with the hope of a new day with a new thing for me.
Then I will spread a borrowed wrapper which my neighbour gave to me to cover my nakedness with only my pants and a woman singlet on. All in the name of proving a point that Emeka was responsible for the pregnancy. Not even a mat do I have to sleep on, and to worsen the whole condition, I hardly sleep because mosquitoes are in their full operation in the restaurant that has turned to be my bedroom.
As I battle with cold, mosquitoes will come close, the fear increases and, confusion becomes bedmate Suicide becomes a good thing to think about. Dead becomes the hope of the end, but the joy of giving birth as a prove sustains her existence.
I kept on working to save money to buy the necessary things the hospital would need for my delivery. I was bound by my very own family, what if something happened to me? I felt so bad no matter what a son or a daughter does to the parent, the parent doesn't have to go to the extent of throwing away the child. But my parent never thought in that direction. As things are going, I'm already in my one-month-old in the pregnancy journey. No antenatal doctor's examination or any form of healthcare. Still, I have hope.
Months after, the nurse rushed her into the labour room, no one was there neither praying for me outside nor waiting outside the labour room to congratulate me. I was my mother and the mother to my newborn baby. I came to understand that it is true that only the tough get going when the road is bad.
Then I could have quit the hustling, but where would I go if I did not continue the restaurant job? If I started thinking of things like that, a strange voice from outside of the restaurant kept sleeping away from my eyes. I was compelled to labour by the rejection of my parents especially my Father for a mistake or mischief that came as a result of pleasure I enjoyed that I should have, only because my mother refused to allow me to know or teach me what I was supposed to know as im growing into an adult.
I was compelled to labour for the sake of an innocent born who came into this world and was rejected, denied the comfort of a home, denied the love of a family, denied the chance of the modern age.
All through the time of my trials, my father never cared to send a message or even looked for me. Sometimes I just curse the day I was born. I cursed the day I met the father of my baby, with tears in my eyes running down like the flow of a running river. Most time sorrow hits my soul as I endure the pain. I automatically became an adult making decisions I shouldn't take. I became mature even in things that I should be directed on how to do. I took care of myself both physically, spiritually and even psychologically. My spirit is down but I have to encourage myself, knowing that I'm on my own.
TO BE CONTINUE....
Thanks for stopping by
All images used here are mine
