RAINBOW BABY

RAINBOW BABY. 

There are a lot of things to consider when choosing a life partner. While love is supposed to supersede all things, it's not all that matters. 

"I warned you, didn't I?" 

Yes, you did. 

"Now, look at you."

I looked at my tear-streaked face in the mirror. 

"This is the third child, Yinka!"

Good to know that I wasn't the only one counting. Everybody was counting. 

"This same disease keeps killing them." 

"It's not a disease," I spoke for the first time. 

"It's now what?" 

"Sickle cell anemia." 

"Look, You have two options, Yinka!" 

I knew what they were before she said it. 

"It's either you look for a new husband, or stop bearing children that die before they can even say, grandma." 

I flinched. Here I was, thinking she was going to suggest adoption. 

"You don't need a soothsayer to tell you that one option is bright and clear." 

ONE YEAR LATER. 

With my heart pounding against my ribcage, I awaited the results. 

When the letter arrived, my husband and I held it (with shaky hands) and read it together. 

My boy was AS. People couldn't believe it. My husband bought me a car. He bought all the baby toys the pep store had to offer. After three SS children, our rainbow baby was finally here. I couldn't stop crying. Happy tears. 

Every day while changing his diapers, I'd see the mark on his hips that I had kissed so often on Taiwo's. I was reminded of the glory days and steamy nights. 

SIX YEARS LATER. 

Our boy began to fall sick often. I began to fear, could the results have been wrong? 

This couldn't be happening. Was this one also going to be snatched from me by the cold hands of dea- no, I wasn't going to say it. I wasn't even going to think about it. All the others didn't live past 6 months. This one lived six years and will live even sixty and more. 

Once again, we were taken back to six years ago when we waited on this very seat, in the same hospital for the genotype results of our son. 

We had them run the genotype test again with other tests. 

A WEEK LATER. 

Our boy had just been discharged from the hospital. My husband clung to him like a lifeline, carrying him on his neck till we got to the car. 

As my husband revved the engine, my son said, "Dad, mom, you guys wouldn't believe the coolest thing that happened today." 

"Okay son, let's hear the hospital drama that happened today." My husband chuckled. 

"Did anybody fight?" I asked. Pardon me, those are the things my son considers cool. 

"The doctor was trying to show one boy with a broken leg how to walk again. So he raised his trousers and showed him how to move his knees and how to not to." My husband nodded, I listened patiently wondering where the fight part came in. Or did his definition of cool change at the hospital? 

He stood up from the back seat and put both hands on the headrest of our seats so we could hear him clearly. We had already entered the traffic. "Here's the cool part, Dr. Taiwo and I have the same birthmark on our knees."

Now it was my husband's turn to fight with me.

©Fugly duckling.