Oyama: Her Story

CHAPTER 75

Yohhh hai ke sana its enough now, its really enough, someone tell the Kolobe’s to get me an electric Wheelchair, because this pregnancy is gonna be the death of my feet and ankles. The only things I can wear is literally crocs and dresses, I miss wearing scrubs for crying out loud. I’m literally walking like a car wiper, yoh kwanele bakhiti. This pregnancy has been the most difficult thing I’ve had to deal with physically in my entire life. But I’m thankful and grateful for it, we tried for four years without success. I had made peace with that I’m infertile, until one day five months ago I started throwing up one day, and then another day, and then another day, and then another day. It’s not exactly a normal thing to have your first child on the fifth year of marriage, at 31 years old. It bothered me. He tried to assure me that everything was fine and we didn’t need to have children to define our love, but it still bothered me, a lot. He even got his parents involved to try and calm me down, even after his father assured me, that even if we didn’t have children, he wouldn’t love me any less.
That made me even more angry, because it felt like he wasn’t understanding where I was coming from, I’m a woman and I can’t even give my husband, ONE CHILD.  I mean we did everything, we went to the best fertility expert money could buy, and they all said the same thing, ‘There’s nothing wrong, you are healthy, it just isn’t time, that’s the only explanation’. Those words filled me with so much hate and anger, but he never left, he never stopped trying to get me to smile. He was always there to take me out and me feel loved when I felt small, seeing his brother’s children.

I remember when we went for the third ultrasound scan, he nearly fainted.
“Well, well, well if it isn’t the cryer” says a Doctor looking at Qhawe.
“Dr. Steyn” he shakes his hand and the two hug, “How are you?”
“I can’t really complain, lifes been good”
“How do you guys know each other?”
The doctor sits down, “I delivered him” A smile tugs at my face, what the heck.
He looks embarrassed and looks away, “Really?” I ask, looking at him.
“Yes, he wasn’t a crier at first, but when he wasn’t near his twin, he would make a big fuss and wake the entire NICU” he smiles, “They really gave their father a hard time, when their mom was in a medically induced coma”
WOW.
“So what brings yall in today?” he clasps his hands together.
“We came in for our third ultrasound” I say.
“Ohh” he nods and starts moving around, “This is your first time here right?”
“Yes, we switched from Dr. Kumkani, in Mediclinic and we came here” Qhawe says.
“Alright, how many weeks are you?” he asks.
“14” I reply.
He is shocked by my answer, “That’s a bit early for a 3rd Ultrasound?” he queries.
“Yes but I have been gaining weight like crazy, I don’t know why” I say.
“Well given that theres a human being growing there…”
“I know Doctor; I am a Doctor as well” I say.
“So you should know that’s its completely normal right?”
“I just have a feeling”
He looks up at Qhawe, and Qhawe still has his hands crossed, “She has a feeling doc”
He tilts his head to the side and moves the chair towards me and I lift up my top. “WHOAHHHH!!” he says pointing at the screen and smiling ear to ear.

“What? Is there something wrong?” I always think the worst don’t I?
He chuckles and looks at me and Qhawe, “Well this explains the drastic weight”
“What is it?” Qhawe is holding himself tighter.
“I command yall family’s genetics” he smiles, “Mr. and Mrs. Mahlatji, congratulations, you are having triplets”
Qhawe’s hands drop to his sides, “Triplets?” he says, barely above a whisper.
“Yes,” Dr. Steyn confirms, swiveling the monitor toward us and pointing, “One… two… three. All perfectly healthy, heartbeats strong. Look here.”
My mouth is open. I think I blink once. Twice, “Did he say—”
“Yes,” I interrupt myself, looking at Qhawe, “He said triplets.”
Qhawe stands there, arms back together and his face is stuck, and he doesn’t look like he’s breathing.
“He’s in shock” I say.
The doctor stands up and grabs a chair shoves Qhawe down, who now has his hands on his knees, looking at the monitor, like it owes his money.
“I need… I need a minute.” I laugh.
It’s not a regular laugh either—it’s a full, borderline hysterical, pregnancy-hormone-fueled cackle. I hold my stomach.
Qhawe is shaking his head, then runs both hands over his face, “Three? At once? Haiii. We prayed for one!”
“Well,” Dr. Steyn chuckles, “Looks like your prayers got upgraded. It's common with delayed pregnancies, and sometimes fertility-enhanced cycles—even when nothing's technically wrong.”
He keeps talking, explaining placentas and chorionic sacs, but I barely hear it. My mind is doing cartwheels. Three. We’re having three. I look at Qhawe, who’s still processing, and I softly rest a hand on his knee.
“Hey.”
He looks at me, “Are you okay?” he asks.
“I think so. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, terrified but OK”
He looks at the Doctor, “Doc, I heard that twins are genetic”
“Yeah” me and the doctor agree.
“OK, then how come my twin, his wife didn’t give birth to twins”
Oh yeah Spoiler, Mogale and Nomzamo have a baby Boy, his name is Langalenkosi, matter fact wait right here cause there’s a list of babies that was. Are you ready, alright keep up: