Midwife AsaNedu

10/12/2025

🌧️ EPISODE 7 — “THE UNEXPECTED VISITOR”

The hospital corridor was unusually quiet that evening—too quiet for a place that carried so many stories, so many tears, so many miracles.

Ngozi sat beside the incubator, humming softly to her baby.
Her husband had stepped outside to speak with a doctor.
Her eyes were tired, but she refused to blink for too long.
Every moment felt precious.

Then the door opened gently.
A woman stepped inside.

She was tall, dark-skinned, dressed in a simple wrapper and blouse.
Her eyes looked familiar… painfully familiar.
But Ngozi couldn’t place where she had seen them before.

“Good evening,” the woman said softly.

Ngozi nodded politely.
“Good evening.”

The woman walked closer, her hands shaking slightly as she stared at the tiny baby in the incubator.

For a moment, she didn’t speak.
Her eyes glistened with something deeper than pity—something almost like guilt.

“You don’t know me,” the woman finally whispered.
Her voice cracked.

Ngozi frowned.
“I’m sorry, ma… do we know each other from somewhere?”

The woman swallowed hard.
“No. But I… I know your husband.”

Ngozi stiffened.
Her heart thumped.
Not this.
Not now.
Not here.

The woman continued, tears now streaming openly:
“I came to beg you… please don’t send him away because of me.”

Ngozi’s breath caught.
Her chest tightened painfully.
“What are you talking about?” she whispered.

The woman wiped her cheeks, but the tears kept coming.

“I went to the wrong ward by mistake… and I overheard your husband telling the doctor he needs time to pay the remaining bills… because he’s also supporting another woman with a child.”

Ngozi blinked.
Her ears rang.
Her entire world tilted.

But the woman quickly raised her hands in surrender.

“No! No… it’s not what you think!” she cried.
“That child—my son—is not his. Please believe me. Your husband only helped me when everyone else abandoned me. I was sick… and homeless… and he paid for my boy’s treatment.”

She sobbed harder.
“I came to explain before someone twists the story. He is a good man. A good man. Don’t let this misunderstanding destroy your home.”

Ngozi felt dizzy.
Her baby blurred behind the tears filling her eyes.
All the fear, all the exhaustion, all the stress came crashing at once.

Before she could speak, the door opened again.
Her husband entered.

His eyes widened as he saw the woman.

“You… you came?” he whispered.

The woman nodded.
“I couldn’t let your wife think you betrayed her.”

Ngozi looked from her husband… to the crying woman… to the incubator where her baby fought for life.

Her husband walked to her slowly, gently, carefully—as if she might break.

“Ngozi,” he whispered, voice trembling,
“I swear on our child’s life… I have never betrayed you. I only helped her because she was suffering. I didn’t want to burden you with more problems.”

For the first time in days, Ngozi broke down completely.
Not just in fear…
but in relief
and pain
and overwhelming exhaustion.

He held her tight as she sobbed into his chest.

The other woman watched them silently, tears falling for reasons only her heart understood.

Before she left, she faced Ngozi again:
“Your husband is a man worth keeping, my sister. I pray your baby survives. I pray God blesses your home.”

And with that, she walked out quietly.

Ngozi leaned into her husband’s arms, shaking.

Too many storms.
Too many battles.
Too many emotions for one mother with a fragile child.

Yet… somewhere inside her…

Hope flickered.

Their family wasn’t breaking.
It was actually becoming stronger.

But fate still had more twists waiting for them.

09/12/2025

🌤️ EPISODE 6 — “DAYS IN THE INCUBATOR”

The NICU smelled like disinfectant and silent prayers.

Ngozi sat beside the glass incubator, her chin resting on her trembling hands. Her baby—so small, so delicate—looked like a tiny bird that had fallen too soon from the sky.

Tubes.
Wires.
Machines blinking red and green.
A soft rhythm of beeping keeping time with her heartbeat.

She had never felt pain like this.
Not even the delivery.
Not even the fear of dying.

This pain was the pain of watching your child fight for breath.

Every morning, she washed her hands, wore the oversized gown the nurses gave her, and sat with her baby.
She talked to the child even though no one knew if the baby could hear.

“Good morning, my little warrior,” she would whisper through tears.
“Mummy is here. Don’t stop fighting.”

She would place her fingers gently on the glass.
And sometimes—just sometimes—the baby’s tiny fingers twitched inside the incubator, like a response.

Her husband visited every evening after hustling outside the hospital for money.
He would sit beside her, shoulders heavy with worry, eyes red from lack of sleep.

“How is our baby today?” he asked one evening.

Ngozi swallowed.
“The same… still struggling. But alive.”

Alive.
That word had become her new miracle.

But the doctors warned her:
“This is a critical stage. Anything can happen.”

Those words lived in her head like shadows.

One afternoon, as she was praying silently, the baby suddenly je**ed.
The machines beeped faster.
A nurse rushed over.

Ngozi stood up, her heart climbing into her throat.

“What’s happening?!” she cried.

The nurse pressed a button.
Another nurse ran forward.
A doctor rushed in.

Her husband, who had just arrived, grabbed her hand.
Fear swallowed both of them.

“Please… please don’t take my child,” Ngozi begged, her knees shaking.

Then suddenly—

The baby stabilized.
The beeping slowed…
the breathing normalized…
the panic faded.

The doctor sighed.
“Your baby is a fighter. A very strong fighter.”

Ngozi collapsed into a chair, crying loudly, uncontrollably, gratefully.
She pressed her forehead against the incubator.

“Mummy is here,” she whispered.
“And we will leave this hospital together… I promise.”

But fate wasn’t done testing her.
Another twist was waiting—
one she never imagined.

08/12/2025

🌈 EPISODE 5 — “THE MIRACLE CRY”

The delivery room went silent.
Too silent.

The doctor held the baby—tiny, fragile, barely the size of a small chicken.
Everyone held their breath.
One second… nothing.
Two seconds… still nothing.

Then—

A sudden sharp cry sliced through the room.

Loud.
Strong.
Defiant.
Alive.

Ngozi opened her eyes weakly.
She saw her baby wrapped in a small cloth, fighting, kicking, living.

A tear escaped her eye.
“We made it,” she whispered.

The nurses cleaned her, the baby was moved to an incubator, and the doctor sighed in relief.

It wasn’t over.
There would be more battles ahead.
But one thing was clear:

Her child wasn’t born silent.
Her child was born a warrior.

07/12/2025

⚡ EPISODE 4 — “THE BATTLE ROOM”

The hospital was chaos.
Nurses shouting orders.
Machines beeping angrily.
Doctors rushing in with gloves stained with urgency.

Ngozi faded in and out of consciousness.
She heard everything but felt nothing.

“Her pressure is dropping!”
“We’re losing the baby’s heartbeat!”
“Get the oxygen!”
“Prepare for emergency delivery!”

Her world was spinning, trembling, collapsing.

Somewhere deep inside the storm of sounds, she felt a tiny movement in her womb—so faint it almost wasn’t there.

Then…
that familiar whisper:
“Mummy, fight for me.”

Her fingers twitched.
She gathered every last strength in her bones.
Her chest rose with one determined breath.
And she fought.

Even the doctors were shocked by the sudden stability in her vitals.

For a moment—just a moment—hope entered the room.

06/12/2025

🌙 EPISODE 3 — “THE NIGHT THAT ALMOST TOOK EVERYTHING”

It was 2:13 am when her nightmare began.
Ngozi woke up to a strange coldness spreading beneath her.
She touched her bedsheet—
wet.
Warm.
Too much.
Too early.

Her water had broken.
Seven months.

Her body shook uncontrollably as fear strangled her throat.

She called her husband’s name, but her voice was barely a whisper.
By the time he woke up, she was on the floor, gripping her belly, gasping in pain.

Neighbors came rushing.
Aunties shouting.
Someone praying loudly.
A flashlight bouncing around the compound.
Her husband’s trembling voice begging for help.

They carried her into a taxi.
Every bump on the road felt like knives slicing through her stomach.

Ngozi screamed once, then twice…
then her voice disappeared, replaced by silent tears.

Her only fear was not her life.
It was the life inside her.

“God,” she whispered, “don’t let my baby come silent. Please… let my child cry.”

05/12/2025

🔥 EPISODE 2 — “HER SECRET PAIN”

Ngozi’s pain started subtly—first as discomfort, then as sharp stabs beneath her ribs.
But she kept quiet.
Because who exactly was she supposed to tell?

Her mother would only say,
“Pregnancy is not sickness. Women have survived worse.”

Her husband would sigh and say,
“Please just manage, everything will be fine.”
But even he didn’t know the battles happening inside her body.

The cramps grew worse.
Her feet swelled.
Her vision blurred sometimes—white flashes like someone switching off the world for a second.

But Ngozi said nothing.

She was tired of being the woman who complained.
She was tired of being strong.
But most of all…
she was terrified.

Every time the pain tightened her chest, she held her belly and whispered,
“Baby, are you still there?”

The unborn child kicked weakly—just once, like a faint knock.
And that tiny movement reminded her that she wasn’t fighting alone.

Still, she knew deep down:
Something was not right.

04/12/2025

🌧️ EPISODE 1 — “THE WHISPER IN HER WOMB”

Ngozi sat alone in the antenatal waiting room, her hands trembling slightly as they rested on her swollen belly. Seven months pregnant—yet every week felt like walking through a battlefield.

The nurse’s voice echoed in her mind:
“You need to be careful… your blood pressure is not stable.”

But how do you stay calm when life keeps throwing storms at you?

Her husband had lost his job two months earlier.
Food was becoming a prayer point.
And now the clinic bills felt like mountains she had no strength to climb.

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.
And that was when she heard it—
soft… tiny… like a whisper drifting through water:

“Mummy, don’t give up on me.”

She opened her eyes sharply.
Her heart pounded.
Was it imagination?
Was she losing her mind?

But no—this whisper felt like warmth inside her soul. Like survival.

Tears filled her eyes.
“If you want me to fight, my baby… I will.”

She didn’t know the war ahead.
She only knew she wasn’t ready to lose the little life she was carrying.

03/12/2025

03/12/2025

03/12/2025

02/12/2025

02/12/2025