Hello everyone. In the first part I shared how my first pregnancy began; this continues that story. If you missed the start, you can find the first part HERE.
By the time I reached the second trimester, my belly had begun to show clearly, the constant nausea had eased, and I felt relieved to move past the worst of the morning sickness. People on the streets of Douala—tout vendors, market women and strangers—started greeting me the way they do pregnant women: “Fatigue! Manyi! Ekete!” One comment that always made me wince was the familiar question, “Qui ta fais comme ca?”—“Who did this to you?”
I began regular ante-natal visits. My first appointment was at twelve weeks at my preferred clinic, Mboppi Baptist Health Centre, commonly called Mbingo. With my mum accompanying me I felt a little like a teenager again, under her watchful eye. We left early, or at least we intended to.
We walked from the house to the main road to catch a cab to the health centre. Drivers passed by before one finally stopped; we had to offer more than the usual two hundred francs to secure the ride.
I actually enjoy medical visits, so I was looking forward to my first antenatal class. I hopped out of the taxi and chatted with my mum like schoolgirls as we made our way to the prenatal section.
When we arrived it was a scene: dozens of pregnant women waiting together, each at a different stage, hormones and chatter filling the room. I took a number indicating my place in line and found a seat.
My neighbour that day was Aunty Pauline, who owned a hair styling shop and was expecting her second child. She joked, barely swallowing the saliva pooling in her mouth: “Na truck bring me today. I no sure say I go fit cam every month.” Nearby sat Elsie, the puff-puff seller who’d travelled from Bonaberi, Amelie the francophone woman determined not to gain weight, and Annabel, who held herself with a certain haughty air.
After a short morning devotion and a health talk, we had our vital signs checked. We were screened for various conditions, urine samples were taken to test for protein and sugar, and our bellies were examined—routine procedures to make sure mother and baby were doing well.
From that point on I made monthly trips for antenatal check-ups. Each visit included a lecture, routine tests, and friendly staff who often referred to us playfully as “belle dem”. With the worst of the nausea behind me, the second trimester felt calm and manageable.
Prayer was an essential part of this time for me. I prayed that anything that could harm children would not touch mine. I prayed for a kind, healthy baby and for a smooth delivery. Those months seemed to fly by, and before I knew it I was entering an intense third trimester.
I’ll share the third trimester and the rest of the journey in the next post. If you haven’t read the beginning, check out THIS POST so the whole story makes sense. Which phase of pregnancy do you enjoy most, and why? Leave a comment and tell me.
I hope your week is off to a good start. Mine began slowly but picked up momentum—thank God. See you in the next post!