Have you ever asked your mother to share about her womb?
Your mother is a story waited to be read.
My mother has always shared in bits over her lifetime, as she did yesterday. I like how our relationship has evolved in my adulthood. Gone are the days when my sole goal was to horrify her, and hers was to forcefully make me conform into being a “Holy” child. My mother’s favourite phrase for me was “Keep yourself Holy”, Lol…Hilarious because I really was all bark and no bite. These days we sit in peaceful silence and reminisce.
Some back story, I was visiting her after a consultation with my gynaecologist. I use two gynaes in Lagos. I have mostly seen the one at South Shore women’s clinic over the last four years and performed my myomectomy in 2019 at that hospital. I like him most of the time, but he has gotten super celebrity like, and I just needed to talk to someone different I suppose, So last week, I booked a consultation with “Prof” at Breast and Gynae Hospital. I cannot recall who recommended her to me now, but she is one of the best gynaes in Lagos, she is always pleasant and keeps the conversation light hearted even when inserting things all over the place, lol. This week as I casually caught up with news online, I spotted her with “Bill” on his recent visit to Nigeria. Not sure what the visit was about but my wallet felt a tug at her easy laughter…Lol, I said ah let her not start charging me Bill money o. (I googled belatedly, and I recall now that she won a grant from Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation a few years ago)
I digress, anyway telling my mum about the visit (routine by the way), she begins to share her experiences with several gynaecologists when she was “looking for a child”. My mother is an excellent impersonator, so it was a hilarious account. Here is what she shares.
My parents got married in October 1976 but did not start having children till 1978, they would eventually have five. My mother tells me that she spent all of 1977 in the grips of worry. She would visit several hospitals to figure out what was wrong. She tells of her experience with getting a HSG test , to ensure her tubes had no blockage. )(It cost N15 in November 1977, the real good old days). She winces even now as she recalls the excruciating pain she experienced from the test and the terrible bedside manners of the doctor who administered it. The doctor told her to “get over the pain” because if she could not take it, she was not ready to become a mother as childbearing was far more painful. What can I say, Diplomacy is for weaklings…
She was scheduled for five of those tests by the way but could only survive one. She tells me that she left the hospital in Surulere crying and shouting (her exact words). She states “I knew from O level Biology that one tube was enough to have children, so I did not go back there ever again. (I read a few articles on this and apparently people with blocked tubes experience excruciating pain during the test. It is advised to take pain medication before getting it done).
Mother was pregnant by February of 1978 and had Emeka, “the golden child” (that is what we call our oldest brother by the way - the one who can do no wrong in my mother’s eyes”) in November 1978. Then she started having children every other year such that my father had to beg her to please stop at four. My younger sister is the other golden child since my father was not impressed with a fifth pregnancy, he would eventually get used to the idea and go on to name her Ada, typically given to first daughters. My mother named her “Ifechukwudere - What God has written”. I love that name so much.
My mother had a retroverted uterus. This means the uterus is tipped backwards so that it aims towards the back instead of forward towards the belly. I have spent some time reading about this today and can see clearly it does not present problems for most women and self corrects itself sometimes, but mother dearest was not having it. My mother is a bit of a professional worrier by the way. She spends an incredible amount of time anxious about all sort of things. As her child, I have figured out that the best approach is to never share anything with her because you will never know peace again, Lol. I marvel at how a problem shared with her leads to a “Let us pray” and then once Amen is said, she will ask immediately “So what are we going to do about it”. Wow, can angels finish carrying the prayers up to heaven first?
Mother glosses over the topic of sperm analysis briefly. She speaks of how it is such a sensitive topic and can bruise a man’s ego and I chuckle. Quite honestly, I cannot imagine my father going through this process of having someone analyze his sperm to rule him out for delays in childbearing. It was a part of the sharing I was happy to move on from. So stressful, how many of us want to imagine our parents had sex to have us let alone be hearing all this story now. I believe I would have been disowned just for writing this down alone.
My Mother had fibroids. She did not know this too, we only found out together recently. And these were not tiny fibroids by the way. Last month, I took my mum for a routine check up and as it was one of those packages, we decided to get all the test done for doing sake. I was fascinated to be reading about multiple fibroids ranging from 5cm-9cm in the report. I mean how did you not know this? Well, she never had any symptoms and she had all the children she wanted so what did she need to be checking those things for? At 72 now, those will just go on with her for the rest of her life. It is what it is.
Finally, my mother had the most disruptive menopause. She nearly froze us to death. When my mother was going through menopause, we lived in a freezer. Everywhere was incredibly cold and she was still sweating. Its fascinating now that she refuses to engage with air conditioning most of the time and complains of being cold perpetually. It was not until I experienced hot flashes with Zoladex, that I empathized with her. As I have said before, I shall be moving to Canada once that shit starts happening ;-).
I encourage those who still have the gifts of mother to prod her for her journey, if they would share that is. My mother’s sharing helped me see her first as a woman and all she endured to get here today. It really is an honour to call her mother and I am eternally grateful. And I shall leave it here today.
I am grateful I got to write. Just yesterday I was telling Doyin how hard it has been to write, journaling included. It is an investment in time to transcribe and share the stories we tell. When I share drafts before publishing, it can be quite raw causing a backtrack for most individuals and this is understandable. This is an open call though, if anyone commits to telling their story, I will write it…not for here but for you because everyone should get a chance once to read about themselves from another’s perspective, in a good way of course. If you also have someone, you’d like to recommend to share their story, let me know and I will get on with it.
You are your story and the best part; it is still being written. X