A story written by STANLEY UMEZULIKE (PHONE: +2347060745771)
Days turned into weeks and weeks changed into years. Two years later, I started my own consulting firm. The previous year, Samantha had launched her first couture collection at African fashion week in Lagos. Everything was going great in our lives.
On Independence Day in October, I proposed to Samantha and she said yes. My heart was filled with so much joy. We said our vows in November in a small wedding ceremony surrounded with friends and family. Surprisingly, Moses who had not yet married his fiancée after so many years of engagement was my best man on that day. Eddie graced the occasion along with Tim, my family members and Samantha’s family members. Samantha’s beauty sparkled in her white wedding gown as her father led her across the aisle straight to the altar. It was a memorable day.
A day after the wedding, we moved into a bigger apartment in Surulere. Time was moving so fast as months continued to speed forward.
Due to constant pressure from my mother, we tried getting pregnant on our first year but it proved difficult. And then, on our second year, we hit the jackpot. She missed her period. We went to the hospital and did a pregnancy test and the doctor announced that it was positive. In the coming months, we began to make adjustments for our upcoming baby. There were a lot of rules on what she should eat and what she must not eat. Her contractions started in the middle of her ninth month. I was at the office that morning. She was so brave. She called and I rushed back to the house and drove her to the hospital.
The Pathfinder Hospital situated at Surulere was abuzz with activity today. Samantha was rushed to the delivery room at the maternity section of the hospital. It was a Friday morning. Pathfinder hospital is a private hospital. The doctor that owns the hospital also works at Lagos University Teaching hospital. I looked at time in my phone; it was 9:45 am.
Seriously, I hate hospitals. The smell of drugs and blood irritates me. The entry to the hospital was through a large heavy door engineered to open and close quietly. As I ambled across the hall way, I noticed the all-white painting. Everywhere was painted in white. The beds were somehow lumpy with padding and white sterile sheets that mask the thick plastic covering the mattress. The patients mopped at me with their big eyes as I walked past them. I saw doctors in white coats hurrying across the hallway and entering one room. Maybe they are surgeons. Some nurses were dressed in white coats and some were in blue tunics. I didn’t know the difference.
I was outside the delivery room staring around the sterile environment when a nurse in white coat approached me.
“Sir, you are needed inside,” she said.
“Me?” I asked.
“Yes,” she replied.
I was at lost. Of what use will I possibly be? I opened the door and went inside. Samantha was lying on her back on a birthing bed. The bed was outfitted with stirrups, handles and a birthing bar for her to hold onto as she pushes.
To Be Continued…