Having Junior

By Eunice Sampson

Having Junior is beyond a tale about a womans struggle with childlessness and matrimonial acrimony.

It mirrors the imperfect nature of man and the tortuous journey to being a better person.

It is a contemporary African story about betrayal, infidelity, defiance, hypocrisy, deep-rooted guilt, obsession with social acceptance . . .

A woman with a special allure and a big heart filled with compassion is at the epicentre of the unfolding drama.

It is a thick plot indeed, with something for everyone!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris UK
• Release date: Jul 31, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483671505

Eunice Sampson

Eunice Sampson is a multitalented writer with numerous published articles on socio-economic and global issues. She has a bachelor of arts in English and literature from the University of Benin and a master of science in international relations from the University of Port Harcourt, Nigeria. Eunice has undergone a series of trainings locally and internationally on effective business communication, sustainable development, and CSR management, among others. She has a passion for community development and enjoys working with non-profit organizations on initiatives designed to positively impact the youth, careers, marriages, parenting, and leadership at all levels. She is happily married, with an adorable daughter.

Book preview

Copyright © 2013 by Eunice Sampson.

ISBN:                Softcover                          978-1-4836-7149-9

                         Ebook                                978-1-4836-7150-5

The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.

The right of Eunice Sampson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with all relevant Copyright laws.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without either the prior permission in writing from the publisher or a licence permitting restricted copying.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Rev. date: 02/24/2014

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris LLC

800-056-3182

www.Xlibrispublishing.co.uk

[e-mail]

521212

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

HAVING JUNIOR

‘What?! How did you get in here?!’ Uchenna asked her in utter shock. ‘And what in God’s name are you doing with my babies? Give them back to me! Right now!’

But she refused to hand them over. As they started to struggle for the babies, Edwina turned towards the door and took to her heels, still with the babies.

‘Stop! Give me back my babies!’ Uchenna cried, pursuing her. But she was running away so fast! Too fast… !

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In cherished memory of my dear

brother, Kingsley Nosa Isaac… and to ten years of a fulfilling marriage to the most wonderful man on earth—

Chibuike Sampson

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CHAPTER ONE

It was about 6.30 a.m. on 17 December 2007. Bisola had just survived one more of those tumultuous nights she had experienced in her nine years of marriage to Uchenna.

The ray of bright sunlight streaming in through the windows was an indication of yet another new day—one she was not certain she could face.

God! How many more of these heartbreaking days can I possibly survive? she wondered.

Bisola had spent the whole night tossing and turning in her bed, drifting in and out of uneasy sleep.

She could not help but remember that it was barely two weeks to the end of the year.

From January till December, she had hoped for a miracle, to no avail. Another year had almost dragged to an end, leaving her exactly where it had started—in pain, disappointment, and frustration.

As Bisola attempted to drag herself reluctantly out of bed, she felt the twinge of an impending menstrual flow.

‘Oh no! Not again!’ she moaned, with her hands covering her face.

She fell back into bed with a slight thud, feeling completely dejected.

She wished she could just sleep on… at least, until her day of miracle finally breaks. Whenever that turned out to be.

It was not the first time she had so wished—to just sleep through this period of distress and wake up only when her bouncing baby boy or girl was safely cradled in her arms.

She remembered that memorable day in 1998 (June 27, to be precise) when she and her heartthrob, Uchenna, looked at each other eyeball to eyeball, with so much love, so much affection as they took their marital vows.

The vibrant sound of their ‘Yes, I do!’ had echoed round the entire church auditorium.

The future then held so much promise of unending bliss.

Bisola could hardly wait for the ceremony to be over… so she could go home with her sweetheart to start their lives together as a lawfully wedded couple. And live happily ever after.

But nine years on, much of those bubbling expectations had been dashed.

‘Nine years! Nine dragging years of anguish and pain!’ she muttered to herself. ‘When will this end, Lord? When will this nightmare end?’

She was jolted out of her lamentations by a loud knock on her door.

‘Bisola! Bisola! Are you in there? Please open the door!’ her husband, Uchenna, called, sounding impatient.

She pulled herself upright, wiped the tears running down her cheeks, and got up sluggishly from the bed. She was not in any frame of mind for an argument with her husband that morning.

He had repeatedly complained about her recent decision to move out of the bedroom they had shared for nine years into a separate room.

She had tried to explain to him that the decision was not based on any hard feelings she harboured against him.

More often nowadays she wished for some solitude. She wished for some quiet time to think through her situation, cry when she felt like it, and pray when she felt up to it.

The knock on her door persisted loudly, breaking rudely into her troubling thoughts again.

‘Bisola! Open up, please!’

Bisola walked at a snail’s pace towards the door, turned the key slowly, opened the door, and came face to face with an angry-looking Uchenna.

‘What’s the problem this time? Why did you lock yourself in?’ he asked, elbowing his way into the room. ‘Bisola, I’ve told you repeatedly to stop this habit of shutting me out! You get me really worried… !’ He was about to say more. But he stopped short on seeing the stain of tears on her face. He moved slowly towards her and drew her close. ‘What is it, sweetheart?’ he asked again, in a calmer tone. ‘Why are you crying? Did you hurt yourself?’

‘H… u… r… t my… self?’ she stammered between sobs. ‘Did you just ask if I hurt myself? But of course I did!’ she replied, clenching her fists in frustration, her tears flowing freely now. ‘I hurt myself every time my hope is dashed like this!’ she said, pointing towards her thighs dramatically and drawing her husband’s attention to the menstrual blood slowly trickling down her left leg.

She had known that her menstrual flow was due that day. But she had hoped that it would not come and had deliberately ignored the need to wear a sanitary pad.

‘I’ve gone through this injury every month for the past nine years!’ Bisola sobbed.

‘Bisola, it’s okay. Please calm down! Why are you making this harder on yourself? Our children will come. It’s just a question of time, please!’ he added.

‘Really? Question of time? With you as a church minister, I would have thought you would be in a better position to know that time means little or nothing if you do not back it up with some positive steps! You can’t just wait for time to yield fruits for you when you’ve not bothered to sow any seed, can you?’

‘What do you mean by that?’ Uchenna retorted, his eyebrows raised. ‘What seed are you talking about? What else am I expected to do to get my wife pregnant beyond carrying out my conjugal duties as and when due? What else do you expect from me?’ he added, sounding upset.

Bisola heaved a big sigh as she struggled to continue this all-too familiar discussion. ‘Uchenna, are you in the least bothered by this predicament we’re in?’ she asked, with so much agony in her eyes.

‘How could you say that, Bisola? Of course I’m bothered. We’re in this together, aren’t we? Or if the children eventually come, are they not going to be mine as much as they’ll be yours? Now, tell me, Bisola. What do you want me to do to convince you just how bothered I am about this challenge? Nowadays you talk as if you’re in this all alone. And that’s not fair!’

‘But that’s exactly how I feel, Uchenna, especially since the last couple of years!’

‘Oh really? Do you expect me to cry myself to sleep every night like you do to prove to you just how bothered I am? Come on, Bisola! Be reasonable! The least I can do given the circumstances is to remain strong, at least for you.’

‘Oh, spare me that! If you’re as bothered as you claim to be, by now you would have done something about it!’ she snapped.

‘Something like what, Bisola? Have we not prayed together, fasted together, attended vigil prayers together, gone through all the medical diagnosis together? Have I ever left you alone in this? Why do you like to play the blame game all the time? What else do you expect me to do? What?’ he shouted.

‘Well, you can start by agreeing to the treatment,’ she replied, standing akimbo and deliberately looking away from him.

‘Treatment!’ he repeated, looking all blank. ‘What treatment?’

‘You see what I mean?’ Bisola asked in frustration. ‘He can’t even remember the treatment I’m talking about. And yet this is as important to him as it is to me! Jesus Christ!’

Uchenna stood with his arms crossed, looking at her as if she had gone crazy.

‘Can I refresh your memory now?’ she continued, sarcastically. ‘After the failed attempt to open up my blocked tubes over a year ago, Dr John advised that we try an IVF treatment! Why do you pretend that that incident never happened?’

‘Oh, that…’

‘Yes, that!’ Bisola interrupted angrily.

‘Oh no, Bisola! Not that again!’ he said, rolling his eyes in frustration.

Yes, Uchenna, that! Again and again, until you come to your senses on this issue!’

‘Please! Please, could you just stop?’ he said, with his hands raised for emphasis. ‘Don’t even go there… and I mean it!’ he insisted.

‘Why not? Why shouldn’t I go there? If the doctors have advised that that might be the most viable option for us given the state of my tubes, why are you so much against it? Tell me, Uchenna, what exactly do you have against IVF? This is not just making any sense to me!’ she added, looking highly aggravated.

‘Because, Bisola, I have prayed, over and over again! And I’m certain, very certain, that our children will come. We do not need an IVF treatment to make that happen!’

‘Oh really? Why are you so sure? Have you been listening to all that the doctors have been saying at all? One tube is completely blocked, and the other one is only partially open following the last surgery! Medically, that reduces my chances of ever getting pregnant unassisted. Don’t you get it?’ she shouted.

‘Woman, where is your faith?’

‘Oh, spare me that hypocritical faith talk! Of course I have faith that God will answer our prayers. But unlike you, I do not wish to limit God. Let Him help me whichever way He chooses. If He chooses IVF treatment, then so be it. I believe we should handle the aspect of the issue that is within our power as humans, and then leave the rest to God!

‘You can’t just sit there with your hands folded idly and then expect manna to fall from the skies! You might as well lie down on your bed and expect God to miraculously take you to New York from there, without as much as getting to the airport or boarding an aircraft!’ she added, gesturing wildly with her hands.

‘Well, I’m not sure how that analogy applies to the issue at stake here. But the last time I checked, I was still the head of this house. And in as much as I respect your views on this, the case is closed as far as I’m concerned. No IVF, period!’

Uchenna tried to walk out through the door as he said that. But Bisola got there before him and stood between him and the door.

‘Uchenna, does it occur to you how old I am now?’ she asked in a milder tone. ‘Or you think I’m still the twenty-nine-year-old woman you got married to nine years ago? For your information, I’m thirty-eight now! And in barely five months I’d be thirty-nine!

‘Do you know what that means?’ she continued, in a calm tone that was in no way a reflection of how she actually felt. ‘It means I do not have any more time to play around with on this issue.’

‘So what do you want us to do? Fight God?’ Uchenna retorted.

Bisola chose to ignore his sarcastic remark and continued as if he never said a word.

‘For nine years we’ve fought this fight in vain. I’ve gone through corrective surgeries without any major success. And now that we have an opportunity to try something new, do you wish us to just sit here and watch this prospect slip away? Why, Uchenna? Why? Why on earth are you doing this to me?’ Bisola asked, not able to hold back tears.

Uchenna could stand anything, but never a woman’s tears. His heart softened despite himself. But he was resolved to stand his ground on the matter.

Who knows how many abnormal children would be running round the streets in the near future, all in the name of advanced fertility treatment? he thought, not daring to voice those thoughts in his wife’s hearing. She would simply kill him! But that remains one of his biggest fears.

‘Bisola, enough of these tantrums, okay? Could you just try and pull yourself together? It’s seven in the morning, a Monday morning at that. And I should be getting dressed for work!’ Uchenna said, moving her gently away from the door and starting to walk out of the room again.

‘Uche, come back! For how much longer will you avoid taking a decision on this issue?’ Bisola yelled after him.

‘For your information, Bisola, I have since taken a decision on the matter,’ he said, as he stopped outside the door. ‘But it’s just that you’ve chosen not to listen to me.’

‘Uchenna, please come back and let’s discuss it, please!’

‘My dear wife, what we’ve had in the last fifteen minutes or more cannot possibly be called a discussion. It’s a fight! And I do not have any more time to spare for it!’ he replied, slamming the door behind him.

Bisola sighed deeply, collapsing into the nearest chair, with both hands on her head. She was completely drained and frustrated.

Why is this man being so pig-headed about this issue? she wondered helplessly.

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CHAPTER TWO

Bisola sat down quietly in one corner of the room as the party heated up and the blasts of music filled the air.

She had hardly taken a sip from the glass of rich wine in front of her. Her mind was as busy as the event venue, which had over two hundred guests thronging, having the fun of their lives as they were served sumptuous meals and played the latest Nigerian musical hits.

Sitting on both sides of her were Uchenna, her husband, and Eniola, her younger sister.

Since Bisola started recoiling into her shell over seven years ago after it became apparent that she was having issues with childbearing, her sister, Eniola, younger than her by almost five years, had become her closest friend and companion.

Eniola herself was married and blessed with three beautiful children. The twin boys, Paul and Anthony, were now four years old, and the baby girl, Gina, recently turned two.

On the few occasions such as this when Bisola summoned sufficient courage to appear at a public function, she preferred to go along with her sister, Eniola, rather than with friends.

To start with, Eniola would not ask her those probing questions that made her wish she could just crawl into one dark hole and hide. ‘Are you pregnant yet? What are the doctors saying now? What do you plan to do next? I hope your husband doesn’t take advantage of the situation to start sleeping around.’ Blah blah blah! Questions I would give anything to avoid