CHAPTER 7: Hoping for a miracle
Two days later I’m sitting opposite a petite lady who looks like a barbie doll behind her huge desk. My friend, Chido is holding my hand as we impatiently wait for the lady, Dr. Ndoro to tell us the results of my examination. I had decided to visit the gynecologist, a part of me hopeful for a miracle, the other numb, not wanting to believe God wouldn’t be moved by my tears and pleas.
Dr. Ndoro , like all doctors before delivering life changing results, takes her sweet time sharing information that I am not calm enough to understand. 15 minutes into the meeting, she hands me an envelope.
‘Your scan shows that there is a lot of damage to your womb, it’s a miracle you haven’t had this bothering you. I am afraid to save your health, you may have to have your womb removed Mrs. Tembo’.
All the life in me drains away, my world stops. I’m thinking of what I will tell Dylan. The gynecologist goes on, Chido is squeezing my hand tighter, I’m worlds away, floating. I don’t even cry during or after the meeting, everything within me dries up. After Chido drops me off home, I lay on my bed for hours.
My thoughts stumble over each other as I fail to focus my mind. I think of growing up an only child, I start remembering how I dreamt of having 3 children…blank. I start again; I think about Hannah, I wonder what was wrong with her womb, what exactly did she say to God to convince Him to give her Samuel?…
My thoughts drift to how it would be like to have God sit on the bed and have a conversation with Him. Would he look into my eyes, see the shadows in there and change His mind?
I open my eyes, the room is dark, I’m disoriented. After a few seconds, the dark shapes begin to look like the furniture in my room. I sit up, realizing I had fallen asleep, my phone reports it is 2am. Dylan is not on his side of the bed, not that he could have been anyway as I was sleeping across the bed.
I don’t recall locking the door when Chido dropped me off. Panicking, I use the wall to find my way in the darkness, switching on only the lounge lights, Dylan is sleeping on the couch, on the tv, a group of young and beautiful ladies are splashing pool water on each other.
I switch it off and proceed to the kitchen to check on the door , it is locked. There are empty Chinese takeaway boxes on the sink, the one day that I don’t cook, Dylan decides to come back home hungry. I switch off the lights and go back to sleep, alone.
The cruel thing about a broken heart is that your world stops but the world goes on, and it demands your presence. My alarm goes off at 6 in the morning, it is Thursday, I have to go to work. I feel hungover, I am pretty sure I look awful as well.
Dylan comes in from the bathroom, already bathed. I battle on whether to tell him about my visit to the gynecologist or not.
‘My womb has to be taken out’ , I blurt out. Surprising us both. He sits on the edge of the bed, as if he is ready to stand up and walk out of my life forever. The thought dries my mouth, I lick my lips, I don’t take my eyes off him, wishing I could chain him to the bed.
‘You went to see a doctor without me’, it’s a statement colored with disappointment. ‘You were busy, you always are’, I defend my actions.
He looks at his hand to his mouth and starts biting his nails, a look of pained restraint on his face. The silence in the room can be cut through by a knife. ‘I will be late for work, I will see you later’.
He doesn’t wait for a response and is gone in a flash. With the weight of his emotional unavailability threatening to pin me to the ground, I get ready to leave for work.
It is a slow Thursday, I mindlessly go through it, the only person I speak to is Chido who tries, and fails to take for lunch. I need to be left to my own thoughts. I refuse to cry, this will give a finality to the situation, as long as I don’t mourn for my womb, there’s hope.
I leave early for home, passing through the supermarket to buy ‘madora’, Dee’s favorite. I am desperate to prove my worth as a wife. I finish cooking after 7 pm. I open the Sauvignon blanc and pour myself some while I wait for my husband, I am confident we will have a mature talk.
4 hours , 13 missed calls and one bottle of wine later , Dylan is not home…
