On a cold harmattan morning, five years after adopting Adura, my husband and I were taking a hot bath when I felt dizzy. The next time I opened my eyes was in the hospital, Adura and my husband standing on either sides. Drips were passed through my veins and I could feel my head heavy. I was told I had passed out having slipped in the bathroom.
The news that I was pregnant came as a rude shock. I had giving up on having children of my womb and I woke up each day thanking God for giving me Adura, and praying for other women in my shoes.
I had missed my period for three months consecutively, but I was not bothered thinking it was as a result of hormonal imbalance. Since there were no other pregnancy symptoms, I had no reason to visit the hospital or do my routine check-up.
With the good news of being pregnant came the bad news of a 50-50 chance. It was either the baby will be delivered and my life goes for it, or I’m safe and the baby dies. My husband became demoralized. His faith reduced to zero, while a surge of faith swirled in m heart.
God’s promises were not far from my lips, and at times when the worry came knocking, His voice answers saying, “notwithstanding, she shall be saved in child bearing, if they continue in faith and charity and holiness.” Those were the words I held on to all through the period of my delicate pregnancy.
I had woken up to see myself soaked in blood in the middle of the night. My expected day of delivery was still two months ahead. In panic, hubby rushed me to the hospital. Beads of sweat formed on his face as my pupil began to dilate. The doctors diagnosed me with placenta previa, a condition where the placenta was growing over the cervix. I was placed on bed rest until the day of my delivery.
The experience all through the period was terrible. The pain was excruciating , and my faith became faint. The only words I held on to was the promise of safe delivery.
The day of my delivery was the day of my death. I had to give birth through CS because a vaginal birth would cause the placenta to tear which would lead to bleeding and shortage of breath for the baby.
As soon as the babies were brought out, I passed out for six hours. It took the prayers of my husband and the rescue team in the ward to get me resuscitated. I had been delivered of a set of twins; a boy and a girl.
Oluwasetemi (God did my own) and Oluwafikunayomi’s (God added to my joy) birth proved to me that indeed, there shall none be barren in the land, neither shall any cast their young.
My twins are a decade now, and their big brother is fifteen, and God has been faithful to my family ever since. When fate seems to happen to you, hold on to faith.