Faith’s Pregnancy Diary 54: Oppressed!

March 16th, 2013

When my eyes opened this morning, I was tempted to roll over and continue my very delicious sleep. But as it was already 10am, and I had promised Nwando I would be ready before 11am, I knew I had no choice. I briefly thought about canceling the whole thing, but my amebo is too much for that. I wanted to see just how wealthy Oga Obinna purportedly is.

Dragging myself out of bed, I managed a shower, and more importantly breakfast. Thank God for leftovers from last night’s Chinese takeout. I was still savouring my special fried rice and sweet and sour sauce, when the door bell rang. Na wa oh. This Nwando is obviously not one for African time.

The roads were clear and traffic free, so we were in Ikoyi in less than half an hour. Driving into the compound, I was impressed. The 3 high-rise condominiums were an architectural masterpiece. But by the time we got to Obinna’s apartment, I was completely blown away. Never would I have attributed such exquisite interior décor taste to a man who dresses like he does! Yes, I was expecting luxury, but I have to admit I was kinda expecting that kind of money-miss-road opulence…you know, the kind with the gold rimmed chairs, and leopard skin shag carpets! But chiiiild, this apartment was anything but! It could have comfortably been featured in a magazine. The mixture of wood, marble, and glass simply blew my mind! And the view!!! Oh my gosh! Because the apartment is so high, it has a perfect view of the Lagos lagoon, and the Victoria Island skyline. Amazing!

“Nwando!!!” I exclaimed, when I was able to pick my mouth off the floor.

“I know right!”  she giggled. I could tell she’s still trying to take it all in herself. “I felt the same way the first time I came here. Maybe it’s even the reason I gelled for him in the first place!”

As we both laughed, I couldn’t help but think how it was a valid enough reason to agree for a guy oh! If I had a toaster, and he brought me to this kind of house, hmm…omo!

Following her into the bedroom, I finally saw a flaw. Nwando definitely has her work cut out for her here. Yes, it was nicely done, but way too much of a man cave for my taste…with all the black and brown décor, and the water bed. Who the heck sleeps on a waterbed? What is this, 1987?!

Like Nwando could read my mind, she laughed. “Nne, please manage the chair. That bed can wound person,” then with a sly grin “But it grows on you sha!”

“Abeg, don’t let it grow oh. You need a proper bed here. There is some serious baby making business to be done!” I retorted jokingly.

“Don’t underestimate that bed oh. It even does the business better than a regular bed!” she added with yet another sly wink.

Hmmm! Okay, we have officially entered TMI zone!

“Seriously though, there’s no need to change it now. We’re moving in a few months anyway.”

My eyebrows shot up. “You’re moving from here?!!!! Why?!”

She shrugged. “He doesn’t want us to raise a family here. He believes we should be in a proper house, and not a flat!” she said the ‘flat’ in an exaggerated Ibo accent. “Yeye old fashioned man!”

“Where are you guys moving to?” I asked. Where on earth could be better than here?!

“Just down the road. He just bought a house in Park View. We’re still undecided about whether to sell this place, or let it out,” she answered.

I didn’t know when my bum found its way to the waterbed. I had to admit that I was mega oppressed! A luxury flat in Ikoyi…and a house in Park View…all from a tiny 2-bedroom flat in Lekki Phase 20! My friend has done very well for herself indeed! And to think that a few months ago, I was the one pitying her for being manless! Now, she not only had a man…she had a rich man!

Kaching!

“We’ll drive by the new place on our way home, so you can see it.” Nwando said, as she hung her clothes in the closet.

I nodded absent-mindedly. My imagination was already doing a good enough job.

“Can I tell you something?” Nwando asked suddenly.

Turning to look at her, I knew from the expression on her face that it wasn’t anything to do with the house.

“I’m really scared of not being able to have any kids…” she said, with a slight tremble in her voice.

“Why on earth would you say that?!” I asked. “Women older than you have had kids, no problem!”

“I know that…but…well, we’ve actually been trying…” she admitted. “Ever since we got engaged, we’ve been having unprotected sex…but nothing has happened…”

I hissed. “Nwando…didn’t you get engaged a few weeks ago?”

“Well…I thought it would happen the minute we threw away the condoms…”

I shook my head and laughed. “Nwando, you have only had one cycle since that time. One cycle! Do you know how long Patrick and I tried before we got pregnant?! Two long years! And I was almost 10 years younger than you when we started trying!”

“I thought you two were deliberately not trying for a baby…”

“My dear, we started trying from our wedding night! At 29, what was I waiting for?!! I was ready from the get go!”

“Why did it take so long?” she asked nervously.

I shrugged. “PCOS.” I responded candidly. “But even for some of my friends with no fertility issues, a lot of them had to try a few cycles before getting pregnant.”

“I don’t have the luxury of time to try a few cycles, Faith.” Nwando said, with a faraway look in her eyes. “If nothing happens before the end of this year, we’re moving on to IVF. I need to have my 2 kids before I turn 40!”

I opened my mouth to argue, but closed it shut. There are still 9 months to go till the end of the year anyway. And if at the end of that time, she still hasn’t conceived, then exploring assisted reproduction might not be a bad idea.

“My dear, don’t borrow tomorrow’s problems for today. Enjoy your husband first. When December comes, ehen we can now talk about next steps.”

She nodded, and we hugged each other briefly, but long enough for her to feel the reassurance.

As we left the building, my baby started kicking like crazy. I guess he/she didn’t want to leave the luxury apartment either.

Looks like my baby also likes the high life…just like its Mama!

 

 

Photo Credit

  1. http://capdal.com

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