We started that Sunday, December 4th, 2016, like any regular day. Your mum and I — just the both of us — were preparing for the 8:00 AM service. She had barely stepped into the bathroom when she called out, “babe, I don’t feel good and besides, I can see some discharge.” I helped her out to the bedroom and that was the end of church for us that day. We spoke to her gynaecologist and he advised she should get some rest, but if she begins to feel a lot more uncomfortable, we should head to the hospital. Your mum is a strong woman, a lot stronger than myself, so when she complains about physical pain, then you know it’s serious.

At about 3 PM that day, we packed our bags and headed straight for the hospital. She had this carefully packed box that had everything you will need for your first few days on earth. I had my work clothes in the car trunk, carried my work bag and a book too. What is a man without his books? The neighbours who saw us that afternoon thought we were travelling, if only they knew what was happening. As we approached the car, the contraction became a lot more intense, every passing second became a lot harder, the pain became a lot more unbearable.

I managed to drive as fast as I could, and thank God, the road was clear. You see, we live in this beautiful city called Lagos. The city is unpredictable, days you wouldn’t expect traffic are the exact days that two people, out of their impatience, will ramp into each other and cause this massive hold up. But thankfully, today was different. In the days leading to your EDD - expected date of delivery, I had always prayed that your mum should get into labour on a weekend. I didn’t want to imagine what it will be like dealing with a woman who is in labour and Lagos’ traffic.

We got to the hospital and it was as though the good people at Healing Stripes, VI, were already waiting for this day. Nurses, Doctors, everyone were at their best. They provided us with a room then the countdown began. Minutes after minutes, the nurses came to check how much she had dilated. By 6:00 PM that day, she was asked not to take any form of food or liquid. By around 10:00 PM that same day she had dilated about 5cm. Then they took her into the delivery room. I held her and her drip stand and we walked gently into that room. I left them, went downstairs and into the car and began to pray. In all of my adult life, I am not sure I had prayed like I did on the 4th of December, 2016. Son, prayer works and God still answers prayers.

By midnight, it seemed as though she had stopped dilating. She wouldn’t go past 6cm. You see, for a natural birth — don’t ask me what a natural birth is, like your grandma once told me, “when you grow up, you will understand” — to occur, a woman must have dilated at least 10cm. This was what the doctors told me. I don’t know why, but I believe they know a lot more than me when it comes to these things. From midnight till about 3 AM, I sat beside your mum, murmuring every scripture that came to mind. For some reason, I kept reciting Hebrews 11: 1 - Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. I can’t say why, but every now and then, I caught myself reciting that same scripture. By 3 AM that morning, my body gave in, I went into the car, reclined the chair and slept, not before I had one quick conversation with God.

I was up by 5 AM, I went to check on your mum, she was still in pains with tears dripping from both sides of her face. I still didn’t know what to do other than hold her hands, tell her to take it easy that it will soon be over while I continued praying. By 9 AM that morning, December 5th, 2016, she had dilated only 7cm. It was hard for both of us. Was God not listening to all what I was telling Him? Nope, He did, He never sleeps nor slumbers, He knows the end from the beginning. He is God and God alone. Around 10 AM, the gynaecologist pulled me aside and said: “son, I have been doing this for years, your wife will have to undergo a cesarean section.” A lady handed me what will look like an agreement document and asked me to read an sign. I honestly don’t remember what was written in that document, all I wanted was for you to come forth and your mum should get some much-needed rest.

I signed the document and I watched as she was wheeled into the theatre, then tears came rolling down my cheeks. Contrary to what you will hear as you go on in life, men do cry. We are humans too, so we cry. I sat in the hallway and with my head bowed, I said one last prayer. My exact words were, “Lord, preserve my family.” A woman, who, unbeknownst to me had been watching me all the while came close to me and said, “my brother, it’s well. Everything was going to be alright.” I honestly needed to hear those words. By 11:15 AM, I heard your tiny voice burrowing through the walls of that theatre. My son is here. A few minutes later, your mum was wheeled into another room, the effect of anaesthesia was still heavy on her. The Doctor came back and said, “congratulations young man, she needs some rest now.”

A lady brought you out of the theatre and you were placed in a room labelled SBCU, I still don’t know the meaning of that acronym. “Lee is finally here,” I said to myself.

Before I mentioned to anyone about your birth, I informed uncle Seyi Taylor, so I guess you have a cousin in Fela. I am not exactly sure what happened that morning, but I remember him calling. Then I created a mini WhatsApp group with all your maternal uncles in it an informed them about your birth. I also informed your paternal aunts and uncles. I called your grandparents and told them their grandson is here. Then the calls came in, folks I didn’t know were related to either your mum nor I called to say congratulations. News like this kind has a way of spreading.

Man, I remember your first meal, 0.6ml from a syringe. The matron said to me “Oga, go and buy food for this boy.” She scribbled on a torn sheet of paper “SMA Gold, 0 - 6 months.” I ran as fast as my feet could carry me, sped off to Games at The Palms Shopping mall to get you your first can of food. With a wide brim, I paced the shelves looking for this formula. I found one lone tin, picked it up and went straight to checkout. I was happy, in all of this, I haven’t had any decent meal myself. I just wanted everything to go perfectly for you.

Through this all, I still had the same old clothes on me, I had to cancel all my meetings and anything work related for that day. I probably didn’t get any shower for two days. I couldn’t leave your mum to herself, someone needed to be around. The drive to-and-from the clinic will be at least 2 hours. 2 hours that I couldn’t afford. You mum needed me, considering the fact that she was still recovering. Then, Aunty Pamela, Edna and Kessy came around. The Udeme’s came by too. God bless their sweet soul. Maternal grandma came in the Tuesday/Wednesday of that week. God bless her. The Andela family came through too. We spent a few more days in the clinic before we were cleared.

Man, there were days when things got a little out of hand, most times it felt as though I was punching way above my weight class. Life punches became a lot more intense, I was beaten and things just didn’t make sense. Even the ones I thought I had a handle on, just didn’t make sense anymore. I second guessed myself more than once. But every time I turned and watch you laugh without a care in the world, that brought some soothing and a much-needed calm. Son, you have absolutely no idea how much I love you.

A ton has been written about child care and raising a child, while those materials are good, there are no silver bullets to these things. I guess what I am trying to say is that there is no template for raising a child. Your mum and I will hack this as we go along. We will make mistakes, but I promise you, we will course correct immediately.

I have spent a few years on this place called earth, I will try and share with you what I have learned during this time:

1. Work hard. There is absolutely no substitute for this. While there is such a thing as luck, but the harder you work, the luckier you will get. Put in the work.

2. God. Keep God at the centre of all you do. It’s impossible to go through life without God.

3. Relationship. This is one of life’s best gifts to us. Keep and maintain a healthy relationship with people. And when you get into one, don’t abuse it. Don’t take undue advantage of it. Seek to contribute more than you take. Don’t become a parasite.

4. Fairness and Equity. Treat people first as humans, irrespective of their social standing. Be fair and just in all your dealings. Do unto them, what you will like to be done to you. I can’t stress this enough, respect everyone.

5. Mistakes. There will always be mistakes. You will make them, consciously and unconsciously. But when you make them, learn from the experience and move on. Don’t dwell too much on it. Never accept a pity party. NEVER.

6. Peer pressure. We will do our best to show you the right way, don’t deviate from it. Don’t let anyone make you do what you know doesn’t align with your values as a person. Be your own man.

7. Finances. Keep an eye on your finances. Always SAVE. You will always need it.

8. Emotions. Watch your temperament. I haven’t done much of a great job here myself, but thanks to your mum, I am learning a lot from her. When you get angry, watch what you say. Never let anger get the best of you. There are always consequences when you can’t put your emotions in check.

9. Passion. Follow your passion, this will be your one true source of happiness.

It’s been a year and it still feels like a dream. Man, amongst every single thing that I have achieved as a person, you are my greatest achievement. This holds true for your mum too. You changed our lives, FOREVER. Thank you for bringing so much joy into our lives, if we had to do this again, it will still be you. There’s this indescribable feeling every time I hold this boy. I now understand what my dad means when he says we are his greatest achievement.

PS: Be kind to your mum. Love and respect her, not just her, every single woman that you will meet as you go through life. This class of people are unsung heroes.

Happy birthday, son.

Love, Dad.

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