When the castors of the gurney squeaked into the operating theatre with my wife lying on it, moaning and groaning helplessly; I could feel the stanchions of my faith shaking.
My life had revolved around her, and now like a house in the prairie buffeted by the heaviest storm, I was on the verge of collapsing, all my wavering hopes disintegrating into smithereens.
We had hankered for a child to make our family complete for the last five years we were married. And when news emerged that she was pregnant, our euphoria was indescribable. It seemed so long ago - those joyous scenes when we were hugging and crying each other in front of her gynaecologist who had told us the good news - and now, I stood on the precipice looking into a gradually darkening abyss of gloom.
She had been bleeding the last two nights, and we had decided that although the baby was not due for another two weeks, it was much better to send her to the hospital for observation and professional clinical care. To me, the signs of bleeding were ominous, but I had cast those negative thoughts off my mind, and preferred to concentrate on the positive. Besides, our belief in God would see us through, and God would grant us a healthy baby boy after all the travails He had put us through these last five years, when we were trying so futilely to conceive.
The operating theatre's light flashed ominously red and every minute that ticked by only added to my heightening anxiety and agony. I must have paced the aisle a zillion times, buying some reprieve from being cast into the abyss of gloom and ended hopes.
The doctor came out of the operating theatre with two nurses in tow. He stripped off his face mask, and looked at me apologetically through his misted spectacles. He told me the news and gave me a consolatory pat on the back.
I had been yanked off the periphery of one abyss and thrown into yet another. I had never felt such pain in my life before, and I collapsed into a heap on the floor, wailing crazily. The nurses and doctor crouched down humming gentle soothing words to me. However, in the desolation of my pain, nothing registered. Except I was the newly-minted father of a healthy baby boy and a widower at the same time. What cruel hand of Fate! And what tricks God do play!
From the operating theatre, the bawl of my baby boy sounded like a dirge....
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