THE DARK DAYS IN MOLA'S DIARY

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A BIRTH INTO DARKNESS

In the heart of winter some decades ago, there was a woman in the obstetrical room. She's a newlywed, and that was sixteen months ago. She groaned and grunted in the room, the nurses paced back and forth, their marches beating heavily, and threatening the peace and instilling fear in the hearts of her relatives at the reception. After few hours of unrelenting efforts of the doctor and nurses, the heartily cry of a young baby emerged from the room. There were smiles on their faces, and everyone congratulated them. Moreover, it was good to reckon with people who make successes, and she just succeeded.
 
Despite the cry of the young baby in the obstetrical room, the paces of the nurses had not stopped. They dashed, and rather than the heel of their stiletto beating soft drums of joy, it made the raging cacophonous sounds of survival, of a surgery going wrong, of the scalpel cutting deep in her womb, of the wrong (the baby) being riped out of her belly. The walks of the nurses capsized in her relatives' joyful countenances, they could feel it, the cry of the young baby wasn't from her room, it was just another delivery made in another obstetrical room. 
 
The tension set in again, it was a war they must win, everyone of her relatives felt on their praying kneels, they were closer to God at the moment than they ever did before in their lives, some muttering esoterically in language someone else couldn't understand, and some just looked on like an atheist, and to the others they seemed cruel, but who were them to decide what would happen to her, even if they prayed, if she would have a safe delivery, she definitely would, life to them was just an old weary hologram on the wall ready to be pulled down, or an ancient graffiti ready to be cleaned up.
 
It would be a day to remember, her husband thought, his heart locked on hers, and he wished upon the stars for miracles. At the wee hour of the night, when the cold had descended from the realm above, the hope had been resuscitated, the nurses now flashed them a smug smile when they paced the reception. The smile was a hope to hold onto, the smile was to tell them the situation had come under control.
 
Finally, the cry came again, this time it was more harmonious than the first time,and one could easily differentiate the cry of a young girl from that of a boy.
Congratulations, the doctor said, her countenance paradoxical to the words she uttered. She was glad they had delivered the baby, and the family was happy, but wouldn't it be better if he had not been birth at all, than to be birthed into darkness? But who was she to denounce the way God would work out His plan.
I'm afraid to break this news to you, she furthered on an intense note, and before she would let out the cat from the bag, a nurse interrupted.
"We've just lost the mother of the blind boy"


To be continued...

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