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A WHISPER BETWEEN MOMENTS OF MY WOMANHOOD- Mercy Harold

​TALES OF A BLACK WOMAN..ISSUE 4

 
Dark areola’s, nausea and two red lines were enough evidence to throw the words  “I’M PREGNANT ” to Chinelo. I stopped being his early morning politics right at that moment, and they were no longer promises swayed at my feet..no calls, no text..no nothing, in simple words he declared his intentions “Kemi please I’m not ready to become a father now.”

    I had to face the world ALONE, back my belly anytime the question WHO IS THE FATHER OF YOUR CHILD? was asked, it was a different kind of pain and the love between I and deji was on strike. Maami spoke to me with her eyes down and Baami spoke to me with disgust circuling the aura, my siblings hated me, friends left and neighbours sang.

It was like I became a woman before becoming a woman, I became a referal statement to other girls; an example of some sort, it came with a halt of laughter, a pain of some kind, a pain in the neck. My child carried shame already before she called The name “MAMA”.

   As moments ran with tortise strenght, I wondered why I didn’t take a pill or two; or flush the first formation of this baby, or probably heed to the advise of those friends to get an abortion.

But then,

Love felt the sunshine as my water broke and my baby cried in my arms..the scars and shame have passed down..it’s all love on-board..as I name her OLUWANIFEMI(GOD LOVES ME)..all the songs of shame are now overrated.

Thanks for reading, here’s to a successful week of breaking boundaries.

Do let Mercy know what you think in the comments.


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