“Even before I was out of secondary school, my father had been telling me about the men that had been coming for my hand in marriage, and how he had been telling them he was not ready to marry off his daughter until she was ready.
I was glad that my father was in my corner on this matter of marriage, because, left to my mom, I would have been married off a long time ago. As it were, all my mates were married, some still in school, and some dropped out to start their families as soon as they got married.
However, something happened. I fell in love. I was about writing my secondary leaving examinations, when I fell in love with our neighbour’s 25 year old son. He was home from the University, and he pursued me with such intensity, I did not stand a chance, I fell for him hard and fast.
Before he resumed at the University, and I finished my examinations, we were married, and immediately I finished my papers, I moved into his house, which was close to his campus. Before long, his mother came to stay with us, and that was how my new home began to expand; everyone and their dog began to visit us, visits soon turned to indefinite stay. At first, I did not mind. I grew up in a large family, and they were not demanding or anything like that,as everyone contributed in the house.
However, things changed when it clocked six months after my marriage. Only I did not realise it. I was down in the dumps about my WAEC result that was not so fantastic, and meant I was going to have to re-take the examination, and my hubby was comforting me, when my mother-in-law walked in on the scene and asked if I was pregnant, hence my crying.
We both told her, no, I wasn’t pregnant and that I was crying over failing my examination. Instead of leaving us in peace, my mother-in-law went on to tell me about one crucial examination that I was failing. Failure to get pregnant. That it was six months already, and no show. Now, I was perplexed, and just burrowed closer into my husband’s arms, who literally carried me from the parlour into our bedroom.
That was the beginning of my affair with the calendar-watchers. Every female in my house was set on me, to watch my every mood, find out when I was menstruating, and not. I was exposed, too exposed. If I so much as showed preference for a soy drink, or had a craving for cheese, the next thing I heard, was “she must be pregnant.”
With all sincerity of heart, I never enjoyed my home again, until I had my baby two years later. My husband was my only comfort. While he would not stand up to his mother, he always told me to avoid her company as much as I could.
I forgot all about my dream of further education, getting a baby became my life’s project. I have gone on to have babies, but I’m yet to further my education, even though my husband has been on my neck about it, since our last child clocked two. I have never fully recovered from the trauma of my TTC years…maybe that’s why.”
That was the story of Soliat, a young lady of 30 years of age, who is mom to three children, and a military wife.
As a 27 year old, Debbie had fibroid surgery, and she had already been trying to conceive for two years before then. Her doctor advised that was the best procedure, given the position of the fibroid. There were no changes in her fortune after that. At least, she was still not getting pregnant.
Some months after that surgery, it was discovered that she had cysts on her ovaries, and again, surgery was recommended. By the time she was done with this surgery, her tubes and womb were hopelessly blocked with tissue and adhesions from both surgeries. The same doctor, who had been recommending surgeries, was the one who delivered the diagnosis of these blocked tubes, and proffered the IVF route as the only solution to her infertility challenge.
This was a rude shock, as she had been holding out all these years for natural conception, only to be told, at the end of the day, that it was not possible, and only assisted was her hope of becoming a mom.
The first thing she did was seek another hospital, and doctor. And after the new doctor carried out his own investigations, it was the same verdict; IVF was the only solution.
Meanwhile, her home-front was filled with lots of battles. All her visits to the hospital, and procedures done on her, were filtered through several routes, that even people who had no business with her knew so much about what was happening, no thanks to her leaky-mouth husband.
It was a case of “all eyes on me.” Debbie could always feel the eyes of people watching her, as she drove by on her street, people even came up to her to offer her some solution to her ‘problem.’ They came with concoctions for madam, and any new introduction to her diet signaled only one thing, “Madam don get belle.” It was that bad. Even her domestic staff gossiped about her infertility.
After behaving like a raging bull once, and taking on all the people who suspected her of being pregnant when she wasn’t (again, her behaviour was put down to the fact that she must be pregnant, “you know, pregnant woman can be tetchy.”). She soon mellowed, and allowed them have their say and God have His way.
Debbie is still TTC, as her first IVF cycle failed. What hurts her the most is the fact that she cannot trust her husband with the news of what is happening to her. Right in her presence, he would be making calls and relaying her news to his mom or sisters, and from there, it goes on.
Her attempts to caution him have failed. Not even when she explained about the pressure she was under from all these people did he stop. He simply saw nothing wrong in it.
It is a dicey situation for her but one she has to deal with. How? May God direct her.
These women have been through hell and back, and one of them is still going through it. Her only hope is that she gets a BFP sooner rather than later.
Every time someone tells them “You must be Pregnant” it comes with a lot of pressure, that is not easily shaken off.
The only way I think to go through this time is to look inwards and refocus on the things that are working, paying no attention to people’s talk.
Sending baby dust in the directions of all TTC moms and a dose of sticky wishes to get things going nicely.
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