It was a beautiful morning, as I expected it to be much as the previous day. I had within my reach anything I wanted. My three siblings, each in his room waiting for mom to leave for the market and the fun begins. The summer break was short in Nigeria so I wanted to make full use of it before it sleeps by like the morning dew.
We lived in a mansion that people dreamed about or watched in the movies. Six (6) well furnished majestic bedrooms with marble walls, two (2) sitting rooms (one for the boys and their friends and the other for visitors, family friends and relatives) each with an immersed presence and alluring attraction of chandeliers.
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In the dining room, a set of 12 chairs with marble made slab imported from Turkey with a passage to a kitchen every women will die for. Outside was a lawn, a playground for the boys, a massive car park with a lot cars from a number of visitors coming in and going out. Looking from outside the gates are four huge pillar structures holding the three story building my family lived in together. I remembered asking dad why he has such huge pillars and he said they represent the pillars of God without such every house or family will fall. Indeed our family fell, unexpectedly in one night.
Mom was sick, she couldn't eat, she hadn't slept the night before, for me and my siblings she would be indoors which meant that playtime will be after we were done with our books. Her sister was with her all through the next day coming from a 10 hour road trip immediately she heard the news at her hometown in Umuahia, Abia state. She cared for her along with the family nurse. After a day had gone by Chioma hinted her sister "Are you pregnant?" "When last did you check your period?" Mom thought for some seconds she said in pale weak tone "It's being three weeks." It gradually hint the three women that it could be a possibility. Mom thought subconsciously "I haven't been with my husband in a while...how could this be" The family nurse had being close friends with mom before she got married, she said in their igbo dialect "it's being 14 years since you last had being pregnant...where you expecting another child" The possibility of another child close to mom's menopause and the risk involved made her feel anxious and increasing pale. "Let's go to the hospital said Ihuoma in deep concern and with a sharp tone....Time is of essence"
The capital city of Nigeria was still at its teething stage with few recognized hospital and clinics but with massive potential developments. Families were more comfortable relying on local traditions with the use of herbs and treatments but this case was unique, mom was approaching fifty (50) and had not had her period for three weeks. Ihuoma taking necessary precaution of the situation adviced on Western treatment. The National hospital was crowded with people coming from both outside and inside the capital to the hospital. The hospital know to be as busy as market square. Dad called the doctor, Dozie one of the families long time friend and inlaw about mom's coming, in order to avoid the excessive long queues at the hospital.
Dozie recommended she should be taking to ICU (Intensive Care Unit) and should be admitted for some days due to her pale state as tests will be taken before ascertaining the cause. Within an hour Dozie meets dad at the intensive care room to inform dad about his surprising result. Mom was pregnant, he jokingly said to Dad "You are still playing free kicks with your wife." He told dad that other tests were being runned and should be out within three days. When Chioma heard the news her face had an outburst of joy but within seconds she remembered that there were risks involved making her face grow gloomy.
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She drew close to mom holding her hands tightly saying in general igbo language "I am with you, you will be fine...ok." Mom nodded. Mom had a flash back to when she had her last child, and thought that was the end, "how did this happen" she asked herself. Finally, she braced up and said I will call him Chukwuma if he is a boy and Chinonye if she is a girl, dad coming closer agreed to it. Calls started going through all our relatives and friends announcing the goodnews (in the igbo land no matter how bad a situation is, a child's birth is a delightful and good news). Those who could visit supported the family, those who couldn't sent their blessings.
Finally, after a week mom was discharged, she would go for regular checkup once a month after giving some medications (prenatal care was not popular then). The drive back home was quiet and long, when I saw mom I and my siblings ran to hug her. "She's got lean" I said in my mind "what's going on" being the fourth boy and last it was shocking to hear that mom would have another child. I became furious of what my elder brother said, I wanted to fight him. I asked him angrily why would she want another child? Is four not enough? I stormed to my room angrily. Mom had to be in her room gradually recovering, for almost a week we barely saw. Whenever she came out she wasn't the mom I used to know...pale I wondered if she would recover, I needed my mom. A month past, she had to return to the doctor with little improvement, her illness wasn't going rather it was becoming worse couple with the pregnancy. Dad was getting worried his young and beautiful queen (from his own eyes, she is still as beautiful as the day he first met her) hasn't regained her health. Dozie reviews her hospital record file, did some check-ups again and changed a few medications.
Over the course of two weeks things got from bad to worse, Dad had to fly her abroad based on suggestions from family members and friends all the while I keep wondering why mom and dad will make such a mistake. When I asked my aunty Chioma she hushed me angrily and said "You don't call a baby, a mistake" while she continues with responsibilities my mom usually handles. I needed my mom, there was an emotional gap waiting to be filled. The feelings of anger were intensifying as those soft, calm voice no longer surrounds me. Dad tries to call regularly during his trips outside the country and when he was around his mind was occupied, distracted and anxious. I heard from mom once in a while, aching for when she will be back. Gradually I started accepting the fact that there will be another child, mom was getting better and I eagerly awaited her return. Sometimes, I and my siblings with Aunty Chioma argued if it will be a boy or a girl and I was sure it will be a boy, the arguments made use laugh and emotionally drawn together waiting for her return "it's being 6 months since I last saw mom" I said in my mind (ultrasound machines were popular but mom didn't want to know the baby's sex due to cultural reasons)
At nine months of pregnancy, Dad flew for the last time. Mom was heavy when he arrived and her water could burst at any time. With so much excitement he was happy to see his lovely wife. He calls her by the name "Nne" and embraces her. Within some days they saw the doctor who recommended c-section as a safe option but mom wanted to deliver the usual way she has been delivering (women then were used to natural child birth than c-section)
At exactly 10:30 p.m. after a week her water broke, while dad and mom where laughing and talking at the bedroom, dad immediately rushed her to the hospital. In the quake of the push and struggle mom was weak and exhausted, the baby was loosing oxygen, the doctor asked again for c-section, mom said she wanted to try one more time, she pushed, pushed, she held dad's hand, she pushed, pushed one more time, she cried, cried, she said to dad "I cant do this" "I can do this" in igbo who said "You can" "Push one more time" she tried one more time. The baby finally came out and the doctor told them that was a boy. Mom saw him, so beautiful, she held him in her arms but she was too weak, Dad held Chukwuma, turning his attention to the doctor "we are losing her!!" The doctor quickly responded trying all he could but mom was weak and going, within seconds mom was gone. Dad with Chukwuma in his hand was speechless and shocked, suddenly he broke out in tears, he cried, he cried, she was gone.
Back home I took the lead and initiative in preparing for the arrival with arrangements for the room for the baby, decorations and a welcome celebration for my dear mom. I made sure all what was needed in the house was available. I and my sibling were ready for a beautiful Saturday morning call from Dad.
To be continued....
Author's note: The author tries to bring out the culture of the Nigerian igbo tribe using a first person narration showing the life of a mother of five from the perspective of the forth son, the unexpected change in his life and its emotional effect on him. Many loose one of their parents or siblings and most times the emotional traumas are not visible.