Faith’s Pregnancy Diary 55: Age is just a number!


March 18th, 2013

I was very happy to wake up with a spring in my step this morning, and I owe it all to getting plenty of rest yesterday. As soon as Patrick and I got back from Church, I was in bed for practically the whole day, waking up at intervals for meals. Even when Diana called me later in the afternoon, to invite me to a late lunch, for us to bond, I had no choice but to ask for a rain check. Much as I would have loved nothing more than a chance to bond with my future sister-in-law, I knew that my body desperately needed rest. She seemed to understand, and we rescheduled it for next weekend. She even pushed her luck further by asking if I could spend the entire weekend with her…using wedding planning as an excuse. Hmmm…we’ll have to see about that one oh.

So, it was a brighter and fresher faced Faith that resumed at work today. As I have my appraisal on the brain, I have been working like a donkey since last week. I’m sure my boss will be marveling at my revamped productivity. I can’t afford for there to be any form of slip up on my part, considering I don’t know what koboko my ED has hidden for me.

I was hard at work, when someone walked up to my workstation. Looking up, I saw it was Ebika. I squealed, and got up to embrace her.

“Wow, look at you!” she exclaimed. “I’ve been gone only 3 weeks, and see how your stomach has popped out!”

I smiled, and bit back my own response, about how I wasn’t the only one who was looking different. The Ebika standing in front of me was nothing like the one I had seen 3 weeks ago. From the expensive weave on her head, to her designer suit, shoes, and bag, it was clear that levels don change!

“I’m glad to have you back! I missed you!” was what I managed to say.

She smiled coyly and looked around, to make sure nobody was listening. “So…I’m sure you have a lot to say to me!”

I feigned ignorance. “About….?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t play dumb, Faith! The whole world knows about Demola and I now. You follow me on Instagram, don’t you?”

I just stared back at her, with a blank expression on my face. “You mean, Demola, the father of the child you aborted? The one who strung you along for years, only to tell you he would never marry you? That Demola?”

The smile on her face faded. “A lot happened after we spoke. He came to me, and told me that…”

I held her hand, to silence her. “Ebika…you don’t have to explain yourself to me. You are a grown woman, capable of making her own life choices. If you think you are better off with Demola, then that’s fine. I’m not judging you.”

“But I want you to listen!” she said, almost desperately. “Please! You are my friend, and your opinion matters to me…”

It didn’t matter enough to keep her away from the douche bag, but I chose to keep that to myself.

“I really made up my mind to leave him…I truly did! But just as I was preparing to travel to see my folks, he came to my house…crying and begging me to forgive him. He told me he had only been lashing out at me for being stubborn, and how I am the one he loves and wants to be with!”

“So, he’s leaving his wife?” I asked, my brow arched.

“Well…not exactly. Because of the relationship with her family, and also their kids, that might be a bit messy. She’ll still be there….” then flashing her ring finger. “But so will I!”

It was getting harder to swallow my rising disgust.

“You’re engaged to a married man?” I asked, my voice flat.

“His father had many wives…and so do a few of his brothers,” she shrugged “It’s no big deal. What matters is that I will finally be legal…and any pregnancies we have together will now be truly welcome!”

I didn’t even know what to say to her. One part of me wanted to wag my finger in her face, and call her an idiot and a fool at 35! Another part of me wanted to just cry for her…for agreeing to be second fiddle for the rest of her life.

But I chose the high road of indifference.

“Congratulations, babe! I’m happy for you.” I said, giving her a halfhearted hug.

“I know you’re not happy with me…” she said, I guess more observant than I had given her credit for.

“Ah, Ebika! If you’re happy, I’m happy oh. You are old enough to know what you want. Anything you want, I dey your back.” I said, in what I hoped was my most sarcastic tone, as I sat back at my desk, hoping she would get the cue to leave.

But alas, my sarcasm was lost on her.

“Did you see those Instagram comments?!” she said, pulling up a chair. “Those people don’t know I’m crazy oh! That Oyinkan and her friends weren’t prepared when my own people fired them back! Did you see that comment by…”

And that was how she went on and on and on, for the next hour…choosing not to notice my exaggerated sighs, or incessant pencil taps on my desk. A woman 5 years away from 40, talking about an Instagram war!

Truly, age is just a number!



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