My Angel
Evelyn Wangila recounts details of her experience—losing an unborn child; and overcoming the grief.
It was a week to a lovely holiday, the best part of the season, the time I would get rest—now that I was constantly getting fatigued with my five-month-old pregnancy. But it was not so.
I spent the weekend in town, visiting with old friends and window shopping for new clothes. The night before, I had a terrible pain in my abdomen which I concluded was a result of fatigue.
That day, I arrived home at six in the evening, took a shower and slept My husband, finding me in bed at 7.30pm. was concerned. He commented that it was very unlike me. He made supper and brought it to my bedside. Though I had no appetite, I would not let his efforts go unrewarded, so I woke up and ate, as I explained my discomfort. The doctor he consulted over the phone that night attributed my condition to fatigue. Two days later I felt much better, but the pain had not completely lifted.
Saturday, my husband, not under any obligation to report to his workplace, 3pent the day watching over me closely. He would not allow me to even leave the bed except when l had to use the bathroom. Too bad for the house help who had to go over the chores alone. The day passed uneventfully. The next day. we went to church. I mean, I felt as good as new.
Come Monday, I was going about my administrative work when I felt a flow of sticky wetness down my legs. I panicked, but calmly excused myself and with my raincoat covering my stained dress, I headed straight to the hospital. I was shaking and in tears because I felt the instinct that I was having a miscarriage.
By the time I got there I was getting overwhelmed with cramps—similar to menstrual cramps—only more intense. It felt like the baby was trying to fight for his life. In short, it was awful.
My heart was literally breaking. The awareness that life was slowly slipping away and the best l could do was helplessly writhe in the spasms, was overbearing.
I lay on the bed as instructed by the doctor and in between sobs I explained all that had transpired. He did an ultrasound. And the look on his face told me there was a problem. Then I knew what the heavy clots that I had passed earlier were!
I was going through a natural miscarriage’ as he termed it. As much as it was his work to deliver the devastating news, it sounded a bit too insensitive. The inability to gather up strength and give him a punch made me break down afresh. I had experienced a loss and I was feeling lost. Consolingly, images of people feeling sorry for me came across as I shut my eyes willing myself to sleep as sedation took effect.
Two weeks later I was still a teary mess. Fortunately, I did not have to go to the office in that state as my office was closing for the festive season. My husband wasn’t having it easier—only he was enduring it ‘like a man’ —putting me first. He took leave from work and spent most of it by my side. We did the weekly follow up visits to the hospital together, cancelled all our holiday plans and stayed home for unifying quiet moments.
As weeks passed, the emotional and physical pain became more bearable. My womb had been cleaned up and now had the go-ahead to conceive again. I never explained to colleagues who had a quizzical expression on their face about my flat tummy, as I did not want pity. I just smiled and said I did not want to talk about it.
I may never understand what happened to my angel, who left after etching a love shaped scar in my heart; but I know he is in a better place—my heavenly angel.
Nova four years later. I have a bubbly three year old daughter. Angelica, who has left no room for my previous pain.
END:PG29/25