Written by Anluma Ocran
My first pregnancy occurred eight months after the burial of one of the women I have most loved in this world, my grandmother. I was so distraught by her passing, especially given the life she had lived. I believed she deserved better and it was a shame she died in pain with little joy towards the end of her life.
At her wake, I had initially been reluctant to file past her cadaver, as I had never seen one and could not bear to have her lifeless form as the last image I had of her. However, my partner managed to convince me that it was an opportune moment for me to pay my last respects given that the burial would be in a village and with our return flight to Accra, we would not be able to make it to her final resting place. I braced myself and went upstairs to say my farewell but upon seeing her, I was so moved I said to her that if she wants to reincarnate, I would gladly birth her back to ensure she lives a life of joy and sweetness.
I did not think much would come of it, as I am not particularly spiritual in that sense but I do know my family generally holds on to some African traditional beliefs, although the majority of them claim to be practising Christians. My grandma for one was of the Abibi as?re, a denomination of Christianity mainly practised in rural areas whose members have adopted the religion and doctrines in ways that marry some traditional nuances.
The grief I carried after the funeral was so palpable for months and weighed heavy on me to the point where, when I saw the positive test, I could not bring myself to celebrate. Just before peeing on the stick, I had been courting suicidal ideations, thinking I was so done with life. As someone diagnosed with double depression and anxiety, this was not far from the norm for me. I deduced the hormonal changes I was experiencing had a role to play but then I got even more miserable day by day as the week progressed, so I decided to not proceed with the pregnancy for my mental health.
The relief I felt immediately was immense; however, twenty-four hours after the procedure, I was wrecked with guilt, thinking I had let my grandma down after making this deal with her. Although knowing the type of woman she was and the relationship we had, I could hear her saying, “m?nnhaw wo ho.” But I was adamant. I had made a promise and I had to keep it so i turned to my partner in the dark as we lay in bed and said I would like to try again for a baby at the start of the following year so it would be an intentional pregnancy and not an unplanned one, which would take me by surprise.
Fast forward to March and I get another positive test. I am immediately elated and then suddenly wracked with doubt. Am I sure I can actually do this? I don’t know but I guess I just have to take it a day at a time. And my, what long days I have endured in the two weeks since finding out. Unlike the first time round, I had actually kept pushing my partner to try until he gave in after he had protested it may be too soon. But then, as my doubts got louder and symptoms started showing up, he maintained the choice to proceed or terminate will be one he’ll support wholeheartedly. Ultimately, my wellbeing and happiness trump whatever mini us we created.
I mulled over it again and again, and I even saw the heartbeat on a scan at week six, but I felt nothing. I just wanted to cry because I didn’t feel good about my body, and even when the doctor tried to reassure me that the first trimester was the worst part of the whole nine-month journey, I was not convinced. Despite my struggles, I decided to seek medication for the anxiety and nausea I had been experiencing, after negotiating with my partner to give this week a try.
I am still miserable and feeling awful within. I am not that far along, but I already feel like I am losing myself. I no longer recall when I had a good night of sleep. The fatigue is wearing me out. I am hungry with no desire to eat. Nothing I usually enjoyed prior tastes as good. I am moody and irritable and the worst part is, I only perk up and feel great when I discuss getting an abortion.
I really wanted to give it a try and push through, but I don’t think it will be conducive to my overall wellbeing to push myself beyond what I know I am capable of and comfortable with. Furthermore, chale, the woman lived a long life; why try to reincarnate her just to prove something she did not even request?
I believe she is with me and I can and do talk to her whenever I want to, but I don’t think she would want me miserable just to make a point. And who is to say that I will even have a girl with her characteristics and whatnot? I am still reparenting myself from the trauma of growing up with neglectful and narcissistic parents. Why rush into mothering a whole other person when I can’t seem to get through the first trimester, knowing life after birth will be challenging regardless of community support?
I feel like a failure of sorts, but if I want a better quality of life for her, I should let her rest in peace and let go of this desire for her rebirth, which I know I will struggle with. I know I don’t have to prove anything beyond honouring her life and memories by pouring in other children in my immediate village. Perhaps this process is how I finally come to terms with her passing. She did her best, she loved deeply and she’s earned this peace now.
