Nine months of anticipation had culminated in a perfectly rounded belly, free from complications. Davida's joy was palpable as she shared this journey with her loved ones, envisioning the moment she'd hold her baby in her arms.
One serene night, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the moon took its place, the symphony of chirping birds gave way to the soothing serenade of croaking frogs. The air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves.
Suddenly, a piercing cry shattered the tranquility: "Aaaaaaaaahhh! My belly, Kwame! I think the baby is coming!" Davida's anguished voice echoed through their home, her words laced with panic.
Kwame, still reeling from the effects of a drunken stupor, slumbered on, oblivious to his wife's distress. Hours earlier, he had indulged in a few too many drinks, rendering him nearly comatose. The room spun around him as he drifted in and out of consciousness.
Davida's cries intensified, "Kwame, Kwame, honey, wake up! I'm bleeding! The baby is coming, Kwame, please!" Her pain was unbearable, and she slipped into unconsciousness, her body trembling.
Kwame, slowly emerging from his haze, thought the desperate pleas were part of a dream. But the urgent cries drew closer, growing louder. He jolted awake to find Davida lying at his feet, blood pooling beneath her.
"Jesus!" Kwame exclaimed, panic-stricken. Uncertain of what to do, he frantically shouted for help, but his pleas went unanswered. The silence was deafening. Then, he remembered the hospital – a place where people received treatment.
Summoning every ounce of strength, Kwame carefully lifted his unconscious wife and stumbled toward the hospital, desperate to save her and their unborn child.