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A night at the hospital EP4 (The almighty scissors)

It is finally time to push and we now have two nurses at our bedside. The handsome doctor has given permission for my wife to push and we are in the endgame. At this particular time, I have not seen Avengers Infinity War or the End Game, but after seeing all that Lilly is going through, I silently wish I could snap my fingers and miraculously have our baby appear in my hands in an instant.

Actually, it’s not as if I cannot snap my finger and have the baby appear, but such finger snapping will require I make a deposit of 100k plus naira (approximately $276.10) for a cesarean section.

I am glad and humbled by the fact that that option is not on the table because all I have in my savings account at the time is 10,000 naira (approximately $27.61) .

Push! Push!! Push!!!

The matron lead is balanced between my wife’s spread-eagled legs and I am at the top of the hospital bed, holding both her hand and rendering moral support while her nails dig gullies in my arms.

I stupidly think that after the first two pushes, my wife will birth our baby; have I learnt nothing from all the videos I had seen online? My case isn’t going to be different, or is it?

Push! Push!! Push!!!

The matron lead encourages her once again and my wife grunts, her yellow face turns red with exertion and my black arms also turn red from her incessant nail digging. I nearly cry like a sissy, but the mantra I recite in my head is – “I am a man, I am a man.”

The matron lead looks up from between my wife’s legs and says jokingly;

“Mr. Man, you will have to pay me extra after I deliver your wife, na so so shit and piss she dey piss for my hand.”

I am taken aback; the videos definitely did not show me this part.”

Flash forward thirty minutes and we have pushed, pissed and excreted together; me, my wife and the matron lead, still no baby. Then the matron lead straightens up; she beckons me.

“Come and see.”

I relinquish my position and follow her finger movement to peer into my wife’s ‘baby canal’.

“The baby’s head is out of her cervix and she is getting tired; I need to cut her because I do not want the bay to drown.” She says, and proceeds to produce one of the longest and curved at the tip scissors I have ever seen; before I can object or concur,

Snip! Snip!! Snip!!!

My baby pours out in the midst of bodily fluids like a dead body washing down fouta djallon.

The delivery room in quiet, but just for a second before my baby starts to wail.

In my comical mind, I think it was lamenting its birthplace – Nigeria again?

I can see manhood, and this confirms that the several scans we have done were accurate; the auxiliary nurse scoops him up as my wife begins to chant.

“Thank you Jesus, my baby has arrived, thank you Jesus, my baby has arrived.”


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