I held the baby's nose and watched the thing struggle to breathe, only for ten seconds, this pitiful creature couldn't even struggle harder and it died instantly. I carried it with away from his mother's leg with a faked grieved expression.



I shook my head at the parents and the nurses who having noticed my demeanor could tell what has happened, the baby was a still birth, yes that's what was wrongly concluded. 

I left the hospital room and straight to my office, behind me was a sorrow stricken mother comforted by her distressed husband. They are such an actor, what is so depressing in losing a newborn thing? They don't even know the creature well enough to love it. 



I got to my office and sighed and smiled and laughed all at the same time. For the past 10 years I have been an Obstetrician (OB) or you can call me that. This is my third hospital of working and it would be the last. For the past 10 years I soothe myself with the tears of women and their family after handing over to them a dead baby. Don't call me evil yet, you would but not yet. 

So here is the thing, I lead the nurses in every delivery room, I am too familiar with how the expected baby is to come out so while it is pushing out that bony skull of a head I dig my finger into it nose and it dies of suffocation and when I bring out the baby, I put on my most pitiful, grieved and distressed look and call the thing in my hand a still birth. I don't do that in every delivery room every day, it would have been suspicious and I wouldn't have gotten this far in my work. 



I open the last drawer by my desk and brought out one sheet of paper, on it I write numbers with a red pen, the numbers of babies i killed -no i didn't kill them, i only held their breath and watch them suffocate  to death. I write the last number I will ever write, 1000. I have finally achieved my goal as an OB. I laughed out victoriously and gave thanks to the universe, alas! I won. 



I would never forget my villain story, on the cold brutal morning of 1994 at Akure, 19 year old me stood by the hospital's gate and watched families joyfully stroll in to welcome the babies born to their equally joyful mother's. I would have been among those happy mothers that morning but my fate was turned upside down. Some years back at the age of 12, orphaned and dependent on a wicked uncle and his family, I was bundled one day to Akure to work as a maid in the Jaiyeola family. 

I worked there as a slave for 5 years and at the age of 19 I was tall and shinning in my brown golden skin, slim waist, curvy hips, round plum breasts, slender legs and arms. That bastard called Mr Jaiyeola was the one who raped me on a sunny day with the absence of everyone else in the house. 

It resulted into pregnancy, my bump was small so I could hide it until the fifth month when his useless wife noticed I must be pregnant. And when I confessed it was her husband, this heartless woman blocked her ears and threw me out of the house before anyone would suspect a thing. You know why? Because her husband was a minister of God at their church so she wouldn't want to bring shame to her family, but what about me?

I ended up living with iya Bisi a successful tailor in her mid fifties who always called me 'ibeji mi' because I look so much like her late twin. She took me in and took care of me. However before I went into labour she urgently needed to travel some few months earlier. But on that faithful day I went into labour 5 weeks earlier than I should. At 1am I struggled to the hospital in labour pain, clutching my stomach and cursing Mr Jaiyeola and his family to death.

But the hospital didn't attend to me. I needed to go through a Caesarian section to deliver and I couldn't pay the fee in my state so they abandoned me there, I cried, I pleaded, I begged the other women like me there to please help me out but no one spared me a glance. They all gave me the look that misinterpreted me to be a wayward girl that got what she deserves after sleeping around with men. A cruel nurse even pushed me out the hospital hall and to the front of the hospital because I was disturbing the other patients with my noise. On the sandy cold hard floor outside, in the middle of the night, I gave birth to a premature baby and fainted and went unconscious until daybreak. 



I woke up to see my premature baby who had been suffocated in between my legs, dead. I later picked her up and I buried her all by myself. When Iya Bisi got back from her travel the woman broke down in tears when I told her my ordeal, how she wish she could change back the hand of time. A month later we relocated to Lagos and I became a daughter to her and a sibling to her only child, Bisi. I suffered and struggled to attend school in order to become an Obstetrician for one particular reason! That for every woman I help in labour, I make them go through what I was put through over 20 years ago. 



Now I have finally resigned from my job, I was excorted out with gifts from the hospital management board and a speech of gratitude because I was a dedicated, efficient and consistent worker. A very good credit for my hardwork so far. I walked to my car and smiled satisfactorily, I have been through a lot but I finally got what I deserved. I don't care even if it costs the joy of many families, all that matters is me.