MY STORY: A DIFFICULT CHILD BIRTH

The pregnancy that led to the birth of our second baby was pretty easy unlike the first one. We only threw up twice during the entire pregnancy. We felt really good.

This is us during our pregnancy It was a time of travelling and having fun. In Douala At Down Beach, Limbe You see, we wasn’t a “poor thing” like we were with our first pregnancy. So we knew we will have a pretty easy delivery. Here is how the whole thing happened:On the first day we felt excruciating pains while doing our house chores. We bore them for a while and when we could no longer take it, we asked our younger brother to accompany us to the hospital. That night at about 1 a.m we trekked to a clinic on the same street where we lived. It was interesting to see night life taking its course in the bars on that street. We're sure we saw a few drunk people displaying their talent but we were minding our business with our big belly.We went to the hospital with so much certainty that we will come back with our baby. This was not a first pregnancy and we heard countless stories of how subsequent childbirths were easier. Our friend Akwi narrated to us how her aunt had a labour that lasted only twenty minutes. As a trained midwife, she had delivered herself at home while looking through a mirror. Stories like that motivated us.We had pictured myself having a very speedy delivery. Here we were faltering on the black rocks that characterised that street in Buea to the private clinic that was about half a mile away. Our younger brother, Desmond hopped along with us, hope-filled. He bothered us with many questions when the pregnancy was in it’s final weeks. One day, he reached home when lights in the living room were off and immediately thought we had gone to have our baby. When he saw us, he exclaimed, “Pre, we thought you had gone to give birth.”With the burdens of the third trimester weighing us down, we sternly warned him, “Des, stop asking us about giving birth! You keep putting pressure on us. Na weti?” That had calmed him down a little but we could still see the hope in his eyes whenever we said we felt pains in our tummy. So this night wasn’t just our night to offload but his night to witness the birth of the baby.We checked into the hospital and we got checked by a midwife whose name we later learned was Magdalene. We'll call her Aunty Mado. Aunty Mado said our cervix was 2 centimetres dilated. When it’s 10 centimetres dilated, baby will come. She advised us to climb and unclimb the stairs at the clinic severally. We obeyed her religiously. By dawn, there was no baby. There was an exhausted Desmond, a frustrated us and a toddler caught in between.On day two, we were home and we continued with our normal activities amidst contractions. We hung in there thinking the contractions were helping dilate our cervix.The third day, there was pain and more pain. Desmond and we went out to do some last minute shopping. We went to our favourite baby store and bought some cute flip flops for myself. We went to an American shop and purchased can drinks for entertaining the guests who will pour in once the baby arrived. We went to the bank and withdrew money for hospital bills. Then we called our friend Akwi, in the neighbouring town of Mutengene to come give us some assistance. Our sweet friend quickly landed in Buea with her own baby who was barely a year old. She was at our house to make lunch and help us with house work.Everything was in order and all we wanted was to give birth and carry our baby. Our hospital bag was packed and the contractions were stronger. We went to the clinic once again where we met another midwife on duty. When she checked us, she revealed we were 4 centimetres dilated. Then she questioned us, “How come you have only moved to 4 centimetres when records show you were already at 2 centimetres the other day?”People, there is no answer to that question! How was we supposed to answer that?“we don’t know.” we replied.She looked at us disapprovingly. We went back home that evening, leaving our bags at the medical clinic. We were frustrated to the bone. Our friend Akwi, told us not to worry. Why was we contracting and not giving birth? Talk about labour with no fruits! We gave up (almost). We told Desmond to go get our bags from the clinic. In tears, we said “we are not going to that place again!”We stepped into our bedroom to have a rest. There, some kind of strength overpowered us. We took a bath and announced we were going back to the clinic. It was night and Aunty Mado was on duty again. She checked us and revealed that we were 6 centimetres gone. That was progress.We started parading the clinic premises so we could make the passage for the baby open more yet our parade proved futile. Each time we entered the labour room, our contractions ceased. It was like there was some force in the room that stalled everything. How else do you explain the fact that a woman in active labour, who has been moaning in pain gets into a room and rather gets sleepy and actually sleeps. When she gets out of the room, the pains are excruciating. How do you explain that?We had been praying for a good delivery and all that but this time, we started praying… desperately. Being in labour for three days was not a bundle of koki and prayer was our only way out. We walked the clinic premises this time, trying to open the passage for the baby with prayers. Our prayers were loud and fearless. We didn’t care if anyone was watching us or listening to us. We wanted that baby out. Now.We prayed, told God all sorts of things. We prayed until we lacked further words to say. At some point, we could only groan. Our brother joined us to pray. By this time, we also had our aunty who had come to the clinic to stay with us on request from our mother. We all prayed together. We could see our aunty and our brother dozing off. We were so weak from the loud prayers yet prayer was our only hope.At some point, we felt peace in our spirit and a certainty that we could enter the labour room. The labour room, which had stalled our labour before felt like what it was- a labour room. We could feel the baby coming. We screamed like someone with a rope tied around her neck, ” we want to poooo!” Aunty Mado took us to the delivery room. We could barely walk there. As soon as we got there, we birthed our baby girl, a 3.45 kilogram baby at 2:45 a.m that November night. As soon as she was out we lifted up our voice thanking God for a safe delivery against the odds.And the girl grew in wisdom and stature and in favour with God and with man.We named her Salma. Salma means perfection… it also means peace. God has perfected everything concerning this girl. Salma at 10 months The evaluation after birth revealed she was already turning blue- getting tired and almost dying due to the frequent contractions. She is now three and each time we look at her, we remember that prayer works. The effective fervent prayer of a righteous man has great power in its effects. If we have ever doubted the potency of prayer, the birth of this girl defeated our doubts. Prayer works.What is that situation that stares at you in the face like there’s no hope? You can face it in prayer. Persistent prayer, prayed with great determination works!!!