Infertility. This is a topic that most people are not well conversant with but tends to effect relationships and marriages around our country. Most of the time, when a woman is not able to bear children after trying for quite some time, the blame is put on her and nobody would want to think that the man could be the one who was infertile. Worst case scenario is when a woman is blamed for her infertility and starts being branded a whore.
I am a 40-year-old woman and I’m separated.
I was raised in a humble family in the outskirts of Nairobi where I spent most of my free time tending to our farm with my mum or looking after my siblings. I consider myself to have had a very moral upbringing; I never had sex before marriage, I always attended church, didn’t entertain men… I was the best daughter a mother would ever ask for. I came to Nairobi where I met a fine young man who would soon be the love of my life. His family came to my place and after the marriage proceedings and dowry payments, we proceeded to wed in church and vowed to love one another for life.
Year one, year two, year three… No child. We tried so hard but nothing! He started mistreating me asking me things like “Kwani unlinidanganya? Wewe ni malaya! Mbona huzai?”. The bad-mouthing got so intense that I decided to go to the doctor and get checked. My uterus had apparently been dislocated or turned, I didn’t get exactly what he meant. He turned my uterus manually, no anesthetic, and it was so painful but through the tears, I told myself I was doing it for my marriage. Now my uterus was okay! I was told to have sex on my ovulation day to increase my chances.
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This is where shit got hard. It was like a sword had been implanted inside my cervix. Sex was so painful when I was ovulating but my husband didn’t want to hear of it. He was too desperate looking for a child. Once he told me, ” Si wewe ndo unataka mtoto! Kaa vizuri.”. That is how my sexual encounters became my nightmares. Soon enough my husband started to beat me, calling me a fellow man. I couldn’t bear him a child! Once I was beaten so hard that I packed and went back home. My father wouldn’t hear of it though. To him, his son-in-law who sent him steady upkeep was a saint. I was sent back to my husband and the beatings never stopped.
I got pregnant finally though! My doctor told me I was to do no hard work to prevent my miscarriage. I was careless courtesy of me not having a house-help. Or maybe I was too accustomed to my chores? My calf was stuck in a ditch and I had to retrieve it. No sooner had I dragged it from the ditch than blood started dripping from my legs. I had lost my baby. I guess this was the last draw for my husband and he brought another woman to our home. She had a two-month-old baby. I understood that my time was done and I left this time to begin my life on my own.