Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete – Pregnancy Journey Part 3

Thunder rattled the shutters on my window as the rain poured down outside. I love the rainy season, even though it can be chaotic in Nigeria. To me, it’s a sign of cleansing, rebirth, and I love the smell that comes with it. The smell of the mud stirred up by the tempestuous rainfall and the smell of the trees as they danced violently with the wind, flooding the earth with their varying scents. However, I couldn’t smell any of these as the smell of antibiotics and despair seeped beneath the door and into the room. The traditional smell that accompanies hospitals; a mixture of disinfectant and gloom. My hospital room was dark, just the way I liked it. But as the shadows from the silent TV danced around my room, I stared outside as the water streamed down the windows, people scuttled about for shelter and as the trees swayed back and forth in obedience to the wind. A determiner for which direction the rain, the trees and the mud would go.

I had been in the hospital for quite some time now, with the bathroom as my only other destination. Even with aid, it was a herculean task to go there as to even sleep required that I take a derivative of morphine due to the pain. Let’s just say I now understand why people get addicted to drugs. That feeling of simply letting go of all your worries even for a brief moment. That unperturbed sleep as your mind is blank and your body is numb. I couldn’t go to sleep without it but I had to be weaned so as not to get addicted. But it felt so good, and many nights after this, I would lay awake quietly in pain as I watched my mother go to the bathroom, cry and walk back to her uncomfortable bed unaware that I was awake. (At this juncture, I feel it is responsible to say, ‘do not do drugs’).

Faith as a concept is an odd thing; I think it is different from belief. Without it, you cannot please God. It has to be tested, which then leads to perseverance and then perseverance brings about maturity and makes you complete...but you have to let perseverance finish its work. So complete suffer makes me whole? No one tells you this when you become a Christian; no one tells you that one of the things you need to be a complete and mature Christian is perseverance, of which can only be attained when your faith is tested. And it must finish its work.

‘It is the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen, and by it the elders obtained a good report’, Hebrews 11:1-2. Again with the maturity and how it pleases God. Thus, if we the young ones want to learn how to please God, how to get a good report, we must have faith, have it tested, which will produce perseverance, which we must allow to finish its work so that we can become mature and complete. Simply put, faith is a process; not a noun but an action verb, and it must come to a completion with nothing lacking for it to truly please God.

It isn’t wishful thinking, it isn’t magic. It is a journey that God takes you on when you give Him the wheel of your life. Like Abraham who assumed he couldn’t have children, and here he is the father of many nations and also, the father of faith. But he had to go on his faith journey. However, you see the faith journey? No one ever tells you that it would likely be a very scary journey because maybe for the first time in your life, you will have no control. We read Abraham’s story and it seems to us just a story, but I wonder how he truly felt about his faith being tested. Nevertheless, this was my time for my faith to be tested. I had my substance; I felt him inside me but it hadn’t been tested. And for the next couple of weeks, I was to go on my own journey of faith.

The first few days in the hospital were hopeful, happy days. The reality of what was happening to me, what was going to happen to me hadn’t yet sunk in. I would always wonder why everyone looked sad. But as I stayed in the hospital week after week, it dawned on me the gravity of what I was going and had to go through. For a minute, I was upset at God; Christianity shouldn’t be this hard. Weren’t the years of looking for a child enough? Why did I have to go through this as well?

There were nights I would lay in pain and cry unto God. There were nights I would just pray in tongues. One night, I had a dream where there was a light at the end of a tunnel. But as I tried to reach it, my arms stretched, I would hear someone calling my name, telling me not to go. Is this how people transcend to the other side? Unbeknownst to me, the doctors were discussing with my husband about how slim my chances of survival were and it would be better if the pregnancy was terminated. They told him that if the pregnancy was allowed to progress, it would likely cause the clot to not deteriorate which would give it a chance to dislodge. They further said that I was still young and I could try to have other children. I could still try to have other children? Do you even know what it took for us to get here? My husband just went home and prayed, because how can you tell us to terminate this pregnancy?

The next morning, he came to work and they had changed their tune. They were going to manage both patients; myself and my unborn child. From wanting to offer me a drug that would likely cause a miscarriage (I did a lot of research), they provided a drug that wouldn’t harm my baby in any way. But, how can a just God who in His mercies had given me a child allow me to go through this? Not only was my unborn child in danger, but my life was also being threatened. Why was my husband and I being put in a position where we had to decide whether or not to keep this pregnancy? Why couldn’t it be simple? Is this why I hadn’t gotten pregnant in the first place? Maybe God was trying to protect me and I forced the issue. Christianity shouldn’t be this hard.

But as time went on, I realized that I had a choice. I could either wallow in self – pity, upset at everything that was happening or…be grateful. Pulmonary embolism is a diagnosis that is usually determined after the person dies. But here I am after having lived with it for two weeks before I was finally admitted, and I was for the most part unscathed. The doctors had stated that I may not survive, that I was a ticking time bomb and as such, the pregnancy should be terminated. But here I was, alive and pregnant with my baby that was the most peaceful baby on planet earth, and who caused me no pregnancy issues. Most women complained about not being able to sleep due to their baby kicking in the night. My son? We slept peacefully. There were a lot of things to be grateful for and so, I chose gratitude.

The odd thing? As soon as I chose gratitude, the people who came to see me said I looked radiant. They wondered if I was sick, with some going as far as meeting the doctor just to confirm. Because, how could someone with a pulmonary embolism be this cheerful? Now were there days I cried due to the pain (this pain was excruciating), yes? There were also days I couldn’t walk to the bathroom. I remember my roommate, a kind pregnant woman at full term who had to help me to the bathroom because I couldn’t walk. Imagine a heavily pregnant woman helping a slightly pregnant woman, to go to the bathroom. We were a sight for sore eyes. But yet I was grateful, why? Because there was someone who could help me and who was willing to help me.

I had to take three injections everyday to keep the clot from getting bigger, yet I remained grateful. God had provided the finances to be able to afford all my medications and surgery. So even with the fear and distaste for taking injections, I was grateful. I had to resign from my job because they insisted I go back to Lagos, but God still provided, so again, I was grateful. Every stumbling block that was thrown at me, I turned it to a spot where I would kneel and thank God. This period of my life taught me a lot about gratitude and regardless of what was going on, I had a choice; wallow in self – pity or be grateful? I chose the latter.

Nevertheless, the day to give birth drew nearer and I felt the fear rising. I reached my pastors because with everything going on and the various choices I had before me, it felt like I wasn’t going to make it. And truly, I didn’t know what to do; should I undergo a c-section or a vaginal birth? I remember telling God that whatever He thinks is best should happen as I was lost and then I remembered, ‘the only person who could take this baby out of me, is the One who put him/her in, and nobody else has the authority to take this baby out’. The words I had declared over my body when I got pregnant. And this truly came to pass.

The danger of spontaneously going into labour was that I would be on blood thinners which would make my blood unable to clot. This was dangerous because if I bled during a vaginal delivery, it may be difficult to stop the bleeding. So, a c – section was scheduled for a Monday as we could plan ahead and decide when I should stop taking the injections. However, the Friday prior, I felt a sudden nudge to not take my injections. Before I knew what was happening, I started contracting. I was about to deliver my baby and thankfully, I hadn’t taken any injections so the drug wasn’t in my system. My husband called the doctors and was told that I should go to the hospital that night. But I refused; I really wanted to give birth via vaginal delivery.

However, my husband insisted that we go to the hospital just for a checkup. So as early as 6 am the next morning, we headed on to the hospital. We arrived and upon seeing my doctor, he advised that we do a c – section that very morning. My heart filled with fear. This is happening today? How about the bleeding? How about the pain? Suffice to say, I was a drama queen during the whole process. But my doctors were beyond amazing. However, do you know what happened during my delivery? My son was born with the umbilical cord around his neck. What if I had waited? And then I remembered, ‘the only person who could take this baby out of me, is the One who put him/her in, and nobody else has the authority to take this baby out’. And thus, on the 14th of December, 2024 my God gave me a very beautiful bouncing baby boy.

Present day

His smile lights up my world. He sees me from a distance and his eyes sparkle in glee as he reaches out for me and gurgles in greeting. My son. He made everything worth it and I would do it again in a heartbeat just to hold him in my arms.

My gratitude knows no bounds. Imagine going through all that and you would have paid at least N20m from start to finish, but you didn’t pay a kobo. Imagine getting a clot in your lungs, not once, but twice (sigh, don’t ask) during this journey and surviving both. Imagine being told you would have miscarriages and the one time you get pregnant, the baby stays and with no discomfort to you. Imagine you were told that due to the fibroid, you would be in constant pain, but you weren’t. Imagine being told that your husband has a low sperm count and low sperm motility which would make it impossible to have a child without medical assistance, and you suddenly get pregnant naturally. Imagine being told that you will have to leave your job, and God provides immensely.

Again, my gratitude knows no bounds. My God has been really and truly faithful, and I want you to know that we serve a good, kind and merciful God. Nevertheless, I do hope I passed the test; I know my faith was tested but I hope it built perseverance and I hope it finished its work for me to be mature and complete. Because asides from his blessings, I know my God wants me to grow and I hope in the end I did and that my faith was pleasing to Him.

The End