The Cost of A Touch: Lessons From The Coronavirus Pandemic

"May the angels protect you
Trouble neglect you
And heaven accept you when it's time to go home
May you always have plenty
The glass never empty
Know in your belly
You're never alone

May your tears come from laughing
You find friends worth having
With every year passing
They mean more than gold
May you win and stay humble
Smile more than grumble
And know when you stumble
You're never alone

Never alone
Never alone
I'll be in every beat of your heart
When you face the unknown
Wherever you fly
This isn't goodbye
My love will follow you, stay with you
Baby, you're never alone."

These are lines from Lady Antebellum's song 'Never Alone', and they make so much sense to me at a time like this. A time when humankind is puzzled and unsure where to turn for answers, a time when tears have flown so much that people do not know if they'd ever really laugh again, a time when a hug would really mean alot but we can't even hold hands. 

Who knew? 

Who would have thought that 'a touch', the gesture that says "I am here for you, you are never alone", would become the thing to avoid? Who would have thought that the things that take our time, work and the fast life would someday mean nothing and we'd desire only each other, to just breathe with each other? Who knew that in the face of pain and uncertainty we would have to fall back to love, stuck with family - literally?

I read statistics of people that are dying from the virus that has plagued the world and I imagine how their loved ones feel. Worse still is that these ones may never be able to grieve because they'd be too worried with thoughts of their own safety especially if they had physical contact with the deceased. Who knew how costly a touch could be?

"Who knew that money would someday fail?" This is what I asked myself as my neighbour who I'd asked to help me get something from the market came back to say it wasn't available anymore. She too couldn't get what she wanted.

Just days ago, my brother came to my house with bags filled with food items, so many. "In a few days people would not be able to buy food, so I thought to get these for you" were his words as I asked why he bought SO MUCH of everything. Today his words have come to pass and I'm mighty glad for the love of a brother who foresaw the future and looked out for 'US' because the 14-day lockdown has resulted in scarcity of food.

Today we have so much of the one thing we couldn't afford because of our fast life - time, and as I respond to the one question that has continually been asked by the people in my life "are you safe?", I accept that all we have is each other. Today as I sit in my home I wonder if it is all worth it. Stress, pride, hate, selfishness, (un)justified anger, envy, strife and many other unhealthy habits, are they worth it?

I am currently listening to Kristian Stanfill's 'In Christ Alone' and I rest, assured that I and the ones I love are safe in Christ alone. He is my peace, light, strength, song, corner stone, mind regulator, heart fixer, comforter and safe place, firm through the storm.

Today, I choose faith not fear because I am sure that when the storm passes, I'll be stronger, will value my loved ones even more and when it's all over, I'll rise with a song. You will too.

The Things You Tell Yourself To Feel Okay

A sharp pain sliced through your back as you made to stand up. It is one of the many issues that you have had to deal with since you became pregnant seven months ago - nausea, occasional abdominal pain, excessive appetite for sugary food and that sudden urge to cry.

You suspect though that the urge to cry stems from the challenges you have had to put with where Nnamdi is concerned.

Like this morning when you asked him to take you to the hospital for the antenatal session, even though he always declined. You asked because you knew he had the week off work and even added that the Doctor said him joining the session, would help with bonding.

He cut you off before you landed, reminding you that he didn't ask for 'this'.

You felt the sudden urge to cry as you asked "This? You refer to our baby as this?"

He responded sharply that he was in no mood for your drama and at the mention of the word 'drama', you recall what Chizaram your friend told you.

"You have to be patient and not let him see you as dramatic. Endure till you birth your baby and that way he'd have enough peace of mind to  make the move to see your people. Peace of mind is all a man wants."

You had wanted to ask her if your peace didn't matter as well but kept quiet especially because she'd remind you how you schemed to 'trap' Nnamdi with the pregnancy.

So today you kept quiet because you needed him to see you as his 'peace of mind', the woman he needs.

You apologized quickly and asked if he'd need you to do anything later.
He retorted with an emphatic "NO", so loud that you had to hold the phone away from your ear.

You made to apologize even though you were not sure why but he ended the call before you finished.

The urge to cry became so strong and like many times in the past 7 months, you couldn't hold back.

The salty taste of the tears reminded you of that day 7 months ago when you first told him about the pregnancy.

You had spent the night at his place and as you cleared the table after the salty meal of Yam and fried eggs, the uncontrollable nausea that began 2 weeks earlier and made you run a pregnancy test, overwhelmed you. You ran to the kitchen to vomit.

Nnamdi ran after you, rubbing his hand up and down your back and asking what the problem was.

"You should see a Doctor, run some tests." He said.

"Maybe it's the salt from the food." He had also complained about the salt earlier.

You should still see a Doctor." He said.

Without thinking, you blurted out the words "I am pregnant." There was need lying anymore as the truth couldn't be hidden for long. But he went on as though he hadn't heard you, "could be from the night we sat out to watch the city from the hills. Remember you wore Shorts and complained of mosquito bites?"

"Nnamdi I am pregnant" you said, again.

He paused for a while as if to digest the information and asked "How?"

"How? We had sex."

"How were you so careless? How did you let this happen without at least discussing with me?" He asked again.

"I let it happen? Were you expecting a new pair of shoes from unprotected sex?" You screamed.

"Really? What about the pills?" He had raised his voice now.

You kept shut because you had stopped taking the morning after pills when you told Chizaram about your plan to get pregnant but as you watched Nnamdi who suddenly looked at you as though you had grown horns, you knew you had made a mistake.

Chizaram's words however kept playing in your head, "Nnamdi, is an Opara, the first son. He may get angry at first but he would eventually accept the pregnancy. Besides, his mother would never let him abort her first grand child. So take the risk to keep your man."

It had hurt to know you had to 'keep' a man with pregnancy and it hurt even more to know that if it were up to him, he would have you terminate the pregnancy. But you tell yourself that sometimes, situations forced people to make the right decisions and that Nnamdi would eventually see the need to take full responsibility. Afterall, he is an 'Opara'.

Now, you stand up amidst the sharp pain slicing through your back - the antenatal session had ended, and head for the hospital reception where your cousin Edesiri and her sister in-law sat waiting for you. Edesiri had taken it upon herself to take you to the hospital whenever you couldn't drive and she voiced once that "maybe your baby would bring me luck and I'll have my own child too". 

She had been married 9 years without a child. The day she made the offer, you hugged her tightly even though you knew it was one of the things she told herself to feel okay.

They stand up as you approach and as you watch her laugh with Tosan her sister in-law, you feel a tinge of envy. Envy for the kind of bond you may never have with Nnamdi's family, afterall, his mother had coyly stated that she'd have loved it if her first son had married an Igbo girl "but I guess everything happens for a reason, and Nnamdi has not mentioned married yet" she said smiling ruefully.

Your head ached all through that day as you pondered on her words but, you told yourself that after you birth her first grandchild, she'd be forced to accept you.

You motion for Edesiri to make a stop so you could buy Dates, they helped with the strong Sugar craving that came with your pregnancy.

As you get back in the car, she announced with glee "We have decided to adopt children, a set of twins."

She reeled out details of her new decision with Francis her husband and added "Maybe loving children that do not have a family would bring us luck too."

She shrugged as she held tightly to the steering and you tell yourself, it is also one of the things she told herself to feel okay.

Yet, you feel that tinge of envy again. Envy for the kind of love she has with Francis, one you'd never have with Nnamdi.

You tell yourself though that unlike you, she'd never know what it is to carry a baby in her womb, one that is her flesh and blood.

You glance at Tosan, she too seemed to be at peace with the decision.

Not sure what to say in response, you pick a Date and bite into it. The very sugary fruit suddenly lost its taste in your mouth.

You feel your baby kicking and you tell yourself that Edesiri would also never know this feeling, this feeling of being kicked in the womb by one's own baby.

You bite into the Date again and blink back the tears welling up in your eyes.

Amidst the tears, you say "I am so overwhelmed at the thought of being a mother in a couple of weeks." You know it is an insensitive thing to say but you do not want to have to explain why you are crying. 

Because deep in your heart, you wish you could turn back the hands of time. Deep in your heart, you know saying you are excited about becoming a mother is one of the many things you have told yourself since you became pregnant, just to feel okay.

But in reality, you are not.