For many Africans, marriage means a BATALLION of children. For them a woman is always at fault when a couple does not have children. Failure to provide the battalion is buying a one way, no return ticket to hell. New names will fall like a hail storm.

People can act and give others a heart attack. This is what Cithelo went through. She asked God why her and still she got no answer of what she wanted but to be reminded that God’s grace was sufficient for her. The doctors have been telling her on ends that nothing is wrong but it was a matter of time, it shall be well. How well? All that women did was talk about their babies as if to remind her that she does not have one. She is seen as a failure.

She was hurt from all angles. Trying to correct or displine people’s children was an application and admission for hurtful words. Better not. Some unmarried women tried their luck on her husband. They were either luck or weren’t. If they were lucky, she knew she had to kiss her husband goodbye. These are some of the issues which contribute to the cracking of her mirror. Being without a child is a tiring, sorrowful, terrifying and horrible journey. It is a journey full of nightmares.

Thanks to God that on earth, there is no road so new that no one has ever set foot on. Cithelo got helpful support from honest friends, fellow Christians and her parents and siblings. However she hates the questions and comments passed by some people. Comments like “Hey, long time. How many kids now? How long have you been married now?” She hates their irritating remarks like, “Yogh! It is such a long time.” Thereafter they will say, “Well, it will be fine.” It will be fine, they all say that.

On the other hand, some come up with advices to visit traditional healer so-and-so in such and such a place. The advices would come with assurance of how much it would work because they know people who have been there and it had worked out well for them. Others talk of prophet so-and-so and some people who now have children after being prayed for by the prophet.

Cithelo could not understand all these parables because she too used to pray about her predicament. Only God knows the answer. All I know is that my friend, Cithelo, went through hell.

You might not be in the picture of life’s journey. When you are braving a storm, it is not all who see you from the comfort of their home who offers you shelter. In my journey of images in a broken mirror, I have seen strong women, women who have walked the same path as I was staggering on. They assured me of the sun soon after the storm. All I needed to do was to wash my dirty mirror or change the broken one, so that I could be able to see clearly who I really am.

Thanks to all those who were my pillar of strength all the way. I now know that womanhood is not all about giving out a dozen kids, No. I am a woman because God created me to be one. I am happy to have learned that every person needs to change a mirror when it is cracked. This has helped me to realize that I am not what people say I am, but I am what God said I am with or without a child.

Yes, that is it. I have to wash my mirror. The how part is my homework. I need to differentiate between when to wash and when to replace the mirror. For when the mirror is cracked, washing will not change my reflection there. I like the saying which goes, “every dark cloud has a silver lining.” I used to say in my heart, whoever came up with this saying, has never walked in the wilderness.

For me through what I have gone through from childhood up to this far, the silver lining in every dark cloud was just a myth. My life has started on a rough knot when I grew up with parents who care less of children. When I was at varsity, life became more difficult for me and I dropped out because of financial issues. From there I worked in various companies, organisations and different people.

If you have no qualification to prove yourself worthy, surely a piece of a used tissue paper has more value than you will be. Out of frustration, anger, desperation and hopelessness, I married Victor, the guy I was working for. Victor was an outspoken person who was filthy rich. He had everything on earth every soul living on earth would aspire to have. I had hoped that life would be a bunch of roses.

I had considered myself to be one lucky person to be married to Victor. I saw myself as a victor, and I was the talk of the whole city and beyond. This was God ordained and destined to be. The challenge of my life after marriage came when I failed to conceive. For a long time my marriage was a dream come true. The whole problem was fuelled by the intervention of Victor’s family who openly told him to get rid of the ‘junk’ he was keeping in his house. I was now junk, because I had no children?

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Tell us: Do you consider women who can’t conceive less than women who can? How does society see them?