It took us four years to get pregnant. I will say those years were the most difficult years of my life. I never for once thought getting pregnant was that difficult until we got married and earned the right to get pregnant. When we were dating, I was always scared when we got intimate without protection. I would wake up at night and think about it; “What if I got pregnant? How will my life be like?”

I was always scared so I fought him often. I pushed him away when it got to that point. I gave him excuses when I realized that was all he wanted to do. The day we got married, we got careless and did it without protection. When I woke up at dawn, I imagined myself pregnant and smiled. I couldn’t wait to be spotted with a bulging tummy. I couldn’t wait to tell people about God’s hand in our marriage. For God so loved our marriage that he gave us a child in the first year of our marriage, I dreamt.

But every month was a disappointment to us. No matter how we worked, no matter how many times we did it in a day and night, no matter the position we assumed during shuperu, it didn’t happen for us. I was often sad. My husband was often confused, especially when we saw a specialist and he told us all was well. When a colleague at work got pregnant a few months after her wedding, I felt judged. I saw invisible fingers pointing at me and saying, “You’re an old woman in marriage but what do you have to show for it? Or you’re barren?”

I couldn’t smile with pregnant friends and mean it. I was trampling and falling where they were walking with ease.

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We didn’t dream of celebrating our fourth anniversary. We would let it pass us by like a baby’s breath and pretend we didn’t see it pass by because there was nothing to celebrate. But a few months before our anniversary, I missed my period. I checked and it was positive. My husband gave a huge sigh of relief when I told him. He said, “Finally!” I concluded, “Finally God has done it.”

We plunged ourselves into celebration. We did our fourth anniversary in style because we knew there was something to show for it.

Babies are born after nine months. Ten months later, I was carrying my baby with no sign of delivery. I gave birth to her at the eleventh. I suffered but hearing my baby’s cry and seeing her face was worth the struggle and pain. We were happy for a couple of months until it all started to come down. She rejected breastfeeding at first. You would wake up at night and see her lying still with her eyes open. It didn’t feel right but it didn’t stop happening after several visits to the hospital.

She grew lean because she wasn’t eating. I thought we wouldn’t cross a year together but we did. We couldn’t celebrate her first birthday because she didn’t feel like a one-year-old baby. She couldn’t sit or crawl or do anything babies her age were doing. Gossip started flying that we’d gone for a water baby all because we couldn’t give birth. At some point, my husband believed the story and asked me, “Where did you go when we were struggling?”

He stopped giving us money for hospital visits. He stopped looking at her the way he used to. He didn’t even ask how she was doing or what the doctor said after hospital visits. From that point, I knew everything was on me but I wasn’t going to give up. When I didn’t have money, I borrowed. When I had to be at work or be at the hospital with the baby, I chose to be at the hospital. I got plenty of queries until my job was on the line. I brought my mom in to help. On her second birthday, she looked so terrible my mom felt we were fighting a losing battle.

I told her, “I’ll fight to the end and see, who knows, I may win.”

I didn’t win. She died three months after her second birthday. It was a Friday when she died. The next morning, my husband picked up his shoes and socks and went to the park to play football. He said his area football team had a tournament.

“Ah, what’s wrong with you? Don’t you have emotions? Our daughter just died!” He responded, “Who didn’t know she was going to die? I psyched my mind long ago so I’m fine.”

I could forgive his negligence during our hard times but I couldn’t forgive his heartlessness. “At least pretend. Pretend that her life meant something to you. Just pretend!”

He went to play football. His team won the tournament so he came back home with a smiling face. All the love I had for him left my heart. The resilience I had for our marriage weakened. I asked myself if I would be willing to give birth again for such a man. If I could go through it all for him again. “I doubt,” I told myself. It makes me think maybe it was the reason God delayed. Or God gave us this child to test our love as parents? We’ve failed the test and it’s all because of a husband who gave up too early before the dice was cast.

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Our marriage? I don’t know. A lot has changed. Feelings are no longer the way they used to be. Doubt has crept in. When in trouble, he will leave me alone to face it while he plays football. What will I need such a husband for? It’s just a matter of time but today, I mourn my daughter. She suffered before leaving. For that, I’m very sorry. 

—Naana

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