The car was racing, as if it was being chased. I shouted that it was making the pain worse. There were traffic police who stopped the car. “Why are you driving so fast?” A male voice spoke.

“We have a pregnant woman on board, she is about to give birth.” My aunt answered. The car began to race again. When we entered Mbare, the my aunt, who was driving, kept going to the wrong place.

“I seem to forget where the hospital is,” she said.

“It’s just at the back of those flats, let’s go that way,” my mom shouted.

My aunt drove the way my mother had directed. Luckily we found the hospital. It was as if I was dying. My mother took hold of my hand. It seemed as if the pain was still wounding my body. I walked slower when two nurses helped me to enter the maternity ward.

I lay on the bed, the nurses left me there. The baby was coming, I could feel it. I felt hair and a big bump. I pushed and the baby came out. I was relieved that the pain was gone. A nurse came rushing and saw what had happened.

“Sister, why didn’t you call me? The baby could have fallen on the ground,” she held the baby and covered it with a cloth.

She cut the umbilical cord.

“It’s a boy,” she showed me the sex of the baby. Suddenly, I felt an injection on my legs. I felt numb, I couldn’t feel them. Seeing the nurse holding the needle and stiches, I closed my eyes and embraced the pain

“How could you push the baby like that?” A nursed asked me. “I am talking to you,” she continued.

Another nurse came and smacked the baby’s bum and he cried and started to cough.

“Your body was cold. Next time you must keep warm for baby’s sake.” The other nurse said.

I just looked at the lights but I was so afraid of why the baby was coughing.

“You can now go to sleep in the ward,” she said. I woke up and couldn’t even feel the pain. I got down and watched them take measurements of the baby. My son was born at 5:30 in the morning. It was a Saturday.

“You can go, I will bring him,” she said, looking at me. I kept staring at them, remembering it was the same hospital that swapped babies and would steal them.

“I will wait for him,” I said and sat down on a stool.

“OK, your body needs to lie down,” she said kindly.

He was wrapped in a blue towel that was in my bag which my mother brought. They gave me the baby and I left the labour rooms. I entered the ward and saw pregnant women awake and sitting on their beds. I put the baby on the bed. I was feeling dirty so I went to take a bath and dressed quickly. I feared that someone would take the baby, even in the wards.

Once upon a time, a woman faked her pregnancy and went to the maternity ward and snatched a baby who was on a bed alone. That story made me rush to the bed and find him sleeping. The same nurse who sewed stitches came and asked if I had breastfed him. She gave me pills so I could have plenty of milk. It was easy breastfeeding his small mouth, suckling the milk bit by bit. I then started to wipe his naked body so I could dress him.

Everything was easy because of gained experience. I ate bread and juice but wanted a home cooked meal. My energy was drained, so I was weak. Visiting hour came after I took a nap. My mother and aunt entered, I was so happy.

“This one looks like his father,” my mother said smiling. My aunt just stood there with no words. They gave me some home cooked food and I ate. They checked if I dressed the baby well.

“Have you thought of a name yet?” my mom asked, concerned.

“Tapiwanashe,” I answered what came to mind. My daughter’s name is Fadzai, which means to be happy, and Tapiwanashe means ‘God has given me.’

“Good name though,” she spoke with a smile.

God has given me a son which I had been praying for. I loved him so much, if I had aborted him, I would have not been enjoying the joys of having a son. I blessed the Lord and praised him more.

***

Tell us what you think: Do you have a child, what’s their name and what does it mean? If you had one, what would you name him/her?