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Nigeria's leading fictional story blog - pregnancy, fifth month, first wife, miscarriage, prayers, husband, hospital, pregnancies, woman, prophetess, unborn babies.

When I told my mother that Mr. Jegede wanted to marry me, she was sad. Clearly the man was not her dream for me. She did not say no, neither did she say yes. Her hands were tied and I could tell. I knew Mr. Jegede was married and too old for me, but he was the one who saved us from our pain and shame. Months later when my father had been discharged from hospital, Mr. Jegede came with his wife and family members and took me as his second wife in a colourful, lavish wedding. To our greatest surprise, Jegede’s wife was almost nicer than him. For the brief time we lived together in the same house, she took me as her daughter. She did not allow me to do a single house chore in the house. She bought things for me and took me to several places she went to. She persuaded her husband to send me back to school and even started a fight with him over that.

Mr. Jegede was unwilling to send me to school because he was afraid young boys would take me from him. While he foot-dragged, his wife got me registered in a private school and paid all the fees with her money. Without my knowledge, she would often visit my parents with truckload of gifts. Every time I prayed, I asked God to bless her and her husband. When Mr. Jegede took me to the house he built for the both of us; I felt sad, because I loved to be around his first wife. My first check with reality came when I lost my first pregnancy at the fifth month. I was devastated; however, the love and care I received from my husband, Jegede and his first wife, took my sorrows away. However, the fifth month miscarriage which was at the first instance thought to be a happenstance, latter became a recurring decimal in my life. I became suicidal after I lost my next two pregnancies in the fifth month. I could not explain why I was losing pregnancies in the fifth month, neither could Mr. Jegede nor his wife. The regular miscarriage was beginning to drive a wedge between me, Jegede and his wife. At home my parents were running helter-skelter to find a solution to my mysterious problem.

My husband’s family members were holding several meetings to decide my fate. I could tell I would soon be driven away from my husband’s house. I had grown up learning to pray, so I once again turned my face in prayers toward God for his mercy. The problem had generated so much heat in the home that Mr. Jegede was no longer eating my food. He rarely spent time in the house with me. I had been brought in to give Jegede more children and I was failing in that regard. Rumours flew around that I was cursed or was in some baby-eating cult. My heart was broken to pieces when I heard those accusations. I was the tough type; I hardly give up easily. I knew God who answered our prayers and sent an ex-professional footballer to change our clothes and sent us to school would hear my nightly cry. After some months had passed, my husband’s attitude toward me changed. He became very nice to me and bought me a lot of gifts. He even apologized to me for the way he acted when I lost my third pregnancy. I was happy to have him back. Like those events never happened, we began to live in peace. When I got pregnant again. I began to pray in an unusual manner. I did everything doctors asked me to do. I said every prayer pastors asked me to say. I did evangelism to please God and sent gifts to motherless babies home. However, at the fifth month I lost the pregnancy. 

This time I did not wait for anyone to hold meetings to decide my fate. As soon as I got back home from the hospital, I packed my load and went back home to my parents. I could not stand the pains of losing pregnancies at the fifth month; nor could I stand the ridicule of being branded a witch. At my parents’ house I tried several times to take my life. Somehow I failed in each attempt. My sister had to stay at home to watch me closely. My mother was heartbroken and my father who was never himself after the accident he had become worse for what I was going through. I was hoping Mr. Jegede would not come back for me, sadly he did. He came with his people and took me back with fanfare. His first wife was still as nice as ever. When we got home I told my husband I was not ready to get pregnant again and lose it. I made him understand I would kill myself if that happened again. He assured me that he would not touch me until a solution had been found. About two months after I moved back into his house, he told me a solution had been found. He gave me concoctions from Ijebu Ode to drink. I was willing to do anything to stop losing my pregnancies.

While I took the concoctions, I fasted and prayed. One evening, I was in the market buying things when a woman walked up to me, tapped me on the back and began to prophesy to me. This woman did not look like a prophetess. She was a normal, everyday woman who looked like a member of Scripture Union (SU). Shaking her head aggressively, she called my name, I did not tell her my name, and said, “Your problem is from an enemy within! You are fighting with a household demon! Tonight your husband shall come to make love to you, when he comes take a good look at his male organ. If you could do this, you shall see for yourself the source of your problem!” People were watching I and this woman. She seemed sure of what she was saying, and as soon as she was done, she walked away from me. That was strange to me. I did not know what to do. I had to go see an old woman friend of mine and told her what the prophetess had said. She encouraged me to do what the prophetess said and prayed with me.

That night my husband came home and asked me to prepare his favourite soup for him. He was happy and playful. I could not tell why he was that happy. It could not have been money, because since he married me, his riches had tripled. He would often mention it to me and bless me for bringing him good fortune. Just like the prophetess had said, in the night my husband told me it was time to try again to have a baby with me. I told him it was too early and that I was not ready, but he insisted and sent me to the bathroom. In those days women were not expressive in their matrimonial bed as today. I did not know how to take a look at his private organ. While I had my bath, I prayed to God to help me. When I went back into the room and lay on the bed, he came at me. I looked at his groin and saw nothing, the room was poorly lit up. He liked to play with me a lot before going in, while he did that, my heart was racing. I was thinking hard about how to see what the prophetess said. When he was ready to go in, it was as if someone said to me, “Get up and put on the light!” I sprang from the bed at that command and turned on the light in the room. I scratched my back insanely as if something was crawling up my back.

Mr. Jegede was surprised, before he could use the bed sheet to cover his male organ, I saw that it was covered with black oil. The oil was very black and as thick as engine oil. I wanted to bolt from the house, but it was late night. I shouted and ran into the bathroom and locked myself in. I did not know what to do. I had never been that scared in my life. Several thoughts zipped through my mind. Was my husband the one eating my unborn babies? Why was his male organ covered with black oil? Could my husband be a member of an occult group? My thoughts did not add up with the manner he reacted when I lost those pregnancies. He was genuinely unhappy. While I pondered over what I had seen, he knocked on the bathroom door gently and asked me to come out. As if I was under a spell, I unlocked the door. He took me by the hand and led me back into the bedroom. He could see my eyes were fixed on his male organ, and so he said, “Don’t be afraid, nothing will happen to you, this is to make sure, you don’t lose your next pregnancy.” I nodded. Somehow his gentleness convinced me that he was telling me the truth.

That night he had his way with me. I wasn’t expecting to get pregnant after that, but shockingly I did. However, after that night, until I told him that I was pregnant yet again, he did not touch me. As soon as I mentioned it to him, he moved from his first wife’s house and camped in our house. Every night he made love to me. I may have been young, but I was no fool. The prophecy from the strange woman had opened my eyes to a lot of things I was not aware of. I could suddenly see patterns which had been there from the first time I lost my pregnancy. As I expected, at the fifth month of my fifth pregnancy, I lost it. This one almost claimed my life. I believe I was meant to bleed to death, but God’s mercy saved me. I woke up in the morning with Mr. Jegede gone and my pregnancy gone. The bed I woke up from was covered with thick blood. I managed to roll out of the bed and began to call for help. None came. We lived alone and the closest neighbour could not hear my voice. I tried the exit door, but shockingly it had been locked from outside. That had not happened before in our house.

With no help coming my way, I decided to pray. About thirty minutes later Mr. Jegede came back with two men. He was shocked to see me on the floor near the door. He had locked it from outside to make sure I did not leave to get help. He probably was expecting me to have died before his return. Pretending he cared for me, he and the two strange men took me to a hospital which I cannot tell where it is till this day, and dumped me there. Till this very day, I have not heard from Mr. Jegede. I was in that hospital for a month. I he did not come back for me, neither did his wife nor did he tell my parents what had happened to me. What saved me was that I had found the Lord Jesus as a child. I prayed my heart out in that hospital. For the one-month period I stayed in that hospital, not one day did any doctor or nurse come to check me or give me any medical treatment. I had to find out for myself that it was an occult hospital. During night times, I would hear people screaming like they were being slaughtered.

I was constantly terrified by dreams of men depositing my body into a coffin and saying to me, “Your job is done. Now you must release your body to us.” When they would begin to close the coffin, I would begin to shout the name of Jesus at the top of my voice and would wake up panting. I still cannot tell how I survived the bleeding or when it stopped. One hot afternoon, about the time I had stayed a month in the hospital, a woman entered my hospital room which had been locked since I was brought to the hospital, and pulled me out of the bed. “You must leave this place now. They have decided to kill you tonight. Come with me.” I followed her out of the room and we walked toward the back of the hospital. There was a small gate at the back of the hospital premises, the woman led me through it into a large expanse of woodland. We must have walked for an hour or a little less. When we got to an express road, I asked the woman, “Mommy, who are you?” “You must pray that your soul be delivered from the snare of the fowler. You shall yet again know peace,” was her reply. I asked her who she was three times and she gave me the same answer.

When we got closer to where people live, she stopped a taxi, put me in it and paid the driver. She told the driver to take me to a certain church in the city and then told me not to go home that night. After that, she assured me she would inform my parents that she had sent me to that church. I didn’t know this woman or how she got to know my parents. True to her word, by 7:00 pm that evening my parents were in that church. Before they arrived, the resident pastor and some members of the church had begun to pray for me. I had told the pastor how I came to the church and what I had been through. After sessions of intense prayers, I and my parents along with my sister and brother were taken to the quarters in the church where we slept for the night. That night was the only night I slept in a month without nightmares. The next day, the pastor told us in full what had been going on in my marriage. My Husband, Mr. Jegede and his wife were occultists. They were using my unborn babies for rituals. When Mr. Jegede told me that I brought him good fortune, that was what he referred to.

I can’t forget how his wealth exploded from the time I lost my first pregnancy. If the woman who saved me from the hospital had not, they would have used me to finish the ritual they started with my unborn babies. Till this day, neither Mr. Jegede nor his wife has come looking for me. Because of my experience, I decided to dedicate my life to the work of evangelism. I have been to several African countries sharing with people the wondrous works of God. I made up my mind I would never marry again; however, a good number of years ago I met a man in Angola whom the Lord used to wipe away my tears. Like the woman who saved me from that evil hospital had said, I have yet again known peace. It was my 18 year old daughter, a fan of, who encouraged me to share my story here. When we got in touch with, they were willing to publish my story. I pray it will help those who read it, and encourage them to believe that God is good and helps the helpless. 

The above true life story was written by Mrs. Efe Johnson (actual name withheld) and was edited by editorial team. Her story is different from other true life stories you have read here. We thank God for the blessing she is today to many people.


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