Labour Room Drama 210

This is as recounted from a man's perspective and it is too hilarious!...LOL

Hi Stella,


This is my pirated version of your popular ‘Labour Room Drama’ series. I call it pirated because my version is an extremely cheap knock-off version of my wife’s story and to compare my story with hers; the absurdity of that can be easily likened to the heat from the fire on a match stick comparing itself to that of the sun. For lack of a better word for describing something both beautiful and scary, I would call it the night of TERRIBLE BEAUTY.


Let me give you some background information. You see eh! I am haemophobic, and this is not in the ‘ha-ha! He is trying to be white kind of way’; It is the ‘dread the sight of blood, will completely pass out if I smell it for too long’ kind of shit. Yah! The whole nine yards. Truly sucks!

A few years ago, I went to visit a friend who had been shot by the not so gentlemen of the night and on entering his room, just 10 minutes into the usual “So sorry bro, the devil is a joker dialogue,” the devil started joking with me. I started breathing fast and I had to take the bed next to him. At this point, some very naughty and mischievous voice in my head just told me, “you better leave this place before you become his roommate for real”. It was so embarrassing.

When my wife got pregnant, she never missed a chance to spell it out in very clear words that I will follow her into the labour room. I am pretty sure she was always careful not to say hospital when she meant labour room. She will usually not fail to remind me of how we did ‘the do’ together, and how it is a joint responsibility till the very end. In-fact, it was one of the things we considered before picking a hospital for her delivery. Yes! My baby is that kind of woman, and if she is reading this, I want to tell her in Bruno Mars’ voice “Girl you are amazing, just the way you are”.


Our friend Joan did not help matters. You see eh! Joan is a professional baker, and the day I asked her to bake simple cake for me, the babe just went psycho on me: Do you wantBanana Cake with Cream Cheese Frosting or Coffee Cake with Kahlua Chocolate Ganache? It felt like my first day in French class. Joan is that detailed, so you can imagine what it will feel like when someone like her takes out her time to explain why a man should not be allowed into the labour room. Hmm! Go in peace the Mass is ended. No thanks to Joan.



So Stella, shey you know how people work-out and gym to get their body in good shape? Well! I did that to my mind. I kept reading some mind-tasking online and offline articles on men experiencing the labour room process for the first time and I must say, some were extremely graphic, while some were very cryptic, as though the writer was trying to spare us from a traumatic experience. Some were very helpful and some were not so helpful. In truth, some were written by angels as a guide to help men like me who were shit scared and didn’t have a choice, while some were written by demons looking to scare their uncle. I just tried to stay positive sha.


Soon enough, the D-day came and I called my old man and asked to borrow his wife. He laughed really hard because he understood why and I don’t need to tell you that the call lasted over 20 minutes, filled with advice and many lines of how I should be a man (like my genitals were not enough to prove it). Me I just needed the woman to be there jor; she was far too experienced and all these scary tales by moon-light ‘labour room drama’ we read here didn’t help matters, I just needed a backup plan and she was my best bet. I know some haters will be calling me mummy’s boy now. Well! That one concern una o. I don’t even have Panadol to drink on this matter.

It was exactly 10:05 when our own drama started. Luckily, we had everything packed and labelled ‘Baby’. I rushed to the bag, while my wife and mum went straight for the car. I drove to the hospital with a skill that only James Bond can understand and in no time, we were with the doctors. The doctor checked her, and said something like she was four meters or four centimeters dilated, I just don’t remember, because all I could think of was “who is this idiot touching my wife with this level of alacrity?” The dude was enjoying it too much and Iyawo just smiled at me as though she could see through my pettiness. (Abeg o! Who knows any hospital that has only female doctors?)

Soon, she was invited to the labour room and as planned, I stood up to join her. One of the nurses politely informed me that I was not allowed to join her. I went on explaining how we were assured that I could when we came to register for antenatal at the hospital. I was wearing that look of disappointment all through the conversation. I never knew I was that good of an actor, I must have been because my wife started giving me this pity speech like I was just refused VISA to America and she and the baby were given. LOL. Ok, jokes apart, I really wanted to be there, even though I had that part of me that was scared. I didn’t want to go and faint there and they will now leave her emergency and focus on mine. That will be like stealing the spot-light from her and it is just not fair (tongue out), it is supposed to be her moment naa. She went off and I thought it would be easier to wait.

Note to future self: Waiting is definitely not easier.

A while later, my phone rang, and behold, it was my wife. She was like “baby I forgot the coconut oil and the JIK at home, could you please go and get it.” I was more curious to understand how this woman was still sounding ok. She even told me to get drinks from the fridge and ended the call with ‘I love you.’ Haa! This woman is badass o! She doesn’t sound anything like the stories I read. This one pass Hebrew women o.

Little did I know that in her own case, the blues was playing before the raggae. At about1am, shortly after I came back from the house, Nna mehn! Egwu e changie (the music changed) just like that. I started hearing a very different ringtone. It started sounding more like a Nigerian woman giving birth. Ewoo! Kai! This thing is painful o. Chi muo! All the ‘tushness’ just disappeared.

I grew up reading comics and books from very descriptive writers like J.K Rowling, so my imaginative capacity is off the charts, and I believe you can understand when I say every scream from the labour room seemed a thousand times louder in my head.

One other man whose wife was also in labour, just laid comfortably on one of the chairs and probably cruised away into dream land. I envied him. How does one do that? This dude is superhuman I thought, because the most comfortable I ever got was when I sat on the edge of the chair.

I prayed all the decades of the Rosary and asked all the Saints I could remember to intercede. With each scream, some kind of electric vibe passed through my body, and I could certainly sense that my heart was not beating right. I mean, normal heart should sound like ‘bum bum’, but mine was sounding like the sound track to the Terry G’s Ginger song. It was not a funny something o.

I heard my wife cursing and praying at the same time, followed by some gibberish words of how she would never do it again. One minute, she will shout “I can’t do this anymore” and the next minute, she is saying “I can do this”. Sometimes it is “don’t touch me” and just moments later, I am hearing “touch me”, I have never seen anything like this before.

Just at precisely 4:42am on Monday 24th July 2017, I heard another cry, and for the first time that night, crying was a good thing. Who knew that crying could bring such indescribable smile to my face.

A few minutes later, a nurse came out to meet me, and she asked, “Are you Mr Okafor?” I said yes, and she said those beautiful words that still makes me smile even as I am typing this; “Congratulations sir! Your girls (mother and daughter) are okay. You will be allowed to see them soon.” Who remembers liu kang’s uppercut in mortal kombat? That was me. I have known for a while now that colours have different shades, but that fateful day, I also learnt that happiness has different shades too, because what I felt was a different kind of happy.

I don’t even want to start explaining how happy I was when I finally held her in my arms. Any first time parent reading this will definitely relate.

My Nma turned six months just three days ago, and she is the most beautiful, smart and energetic baby I know. She is just a delight, and I have attached a picture to show you what she looked like then and now.

I will sign out by praying for all the couples looking unto God for a baby. This year, God will hear your cry like she heard Hannah’s cry and blessed her with Samuel. This I pray in Jesus name. Amen.

Awwwww,i just fell in love!..Look at this baby!!!

Martins you are tooo funny...I love your Narrative so much....God bless your home ...Madam well done oh...you try!!!..Kisses!