Amaka* was on the edge of adulthood when pregnancy turned her world upside down. In this interview with JD, she tells her story in her own words.
Can you take me back to the period you found out you were pregnant?
I was eighteen. It wasn’t too long after I got my WAEC results. I was looking forward to writing UTME the following year, so I could gain admission into the university.
So, I went to the clinic because I thought I had malaria. It wasn’t malaria. The nurse was suspicious so she advised a pregnancy test. When the nurse told me I was pregnant, I felt my chest cave in. My hands were shaking. I couldn’t hear anything else she was saying. All I kept thinking was, “My life has ended. My parents will kill me.”
What was on your mind after leaving the clinic?
I walked home slowly, dragging my feet; didn’t tell anyone for days. I was scared, ashamed, and confused. At night, I couldn’t sleep. I would stare at the ceiling and imagine all the gossip that would spread if people found out.
How did you eventually tell your parents?
It was my mother I told first. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. She cried and screamed. She said I had disgraced her. My father refused to speak to me. He would leave the room when I entered. The silence was worse than shouting. I felt like a stranger in my own house.
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That must have been heavy to carry.
Yes, it was. I thought of running away. I thought maybe I could stay with a friend, but then I remembered I didn’t even have money.
Did you think of church?
Oh, no, I didn’t think it was an option at all. I stopped going for weeks, fearing that I would be mocked.
I can imagine.
But the burden got too heavy for me as time went on. I couldn’t keep pretending. So one afternoon I went to see my youth leader at her house.
She had been like a second mother to me. I just broke down in her sitting room; couldn’t even talk at first. I cried so much. When I finally told her, she didn’t look shocked. She didn’t shout. She just held my hand and said, “You’re not alone.”
How did the church respond after that?
She spoke to the pastor. Then slowly, some of the women in the church started reaching out. They came to visit me at home. They brought food, they prayed with me, they gave me money for clinic visits.
One of the women went with me to every antenatal appointment. She said, “If your parents can’t walk with you now, we will.” That gave me strength.
That must have felt different from what you expected.
Yes. I thought they would shut me out. Instead, they drew me closer. They didn’t pretend it wasn’t a mistake, but they didn’t use the mistake to throw me away.
What about the person responsible?
He denied everything and said the pregnancy wasn’t his. He stopped picking my calls.
At first, I begged him to take responsibility. I thought maybe if he stood with me, my parents would forgive me. But after weeks of being ignored, I gave up.
The church encouraged me to stop chasing him and focus on my health.
Were there people in church who thought you should have been punished?
Yes. I heard whispers. Some people said, “If we pamper her, other girls will follow.” A few members stopped greeting me. Some gave me cold looks.
Did the church’s support affect how your parents eventually saw you?
Slowly, yes. At first, my parents were embarrassed that the church knew. But when they saw how members were showing up for me, it changed something.
They saw people bringing food, baby clothes, and money. They saw women caring for me when they themselves couldn’t even look at me. That softened them.
How did you feel the day your baby was born?
Relief and fear. Relief that the long nine months were over. Fear because I didn’t know if I could be a mother. But I remember looking at him and thinking, “Maybe life isn’t over after all.”
The women from church were there. They carried him, they prayed over him. I felt surrounded.
How did you cope in those first few months?
It was hard. Nights without sleep. Crying and breastfeeding every two hours. Sometimes I felt like I was drowning. But the support was very solid.
And what about your education?
Even while pregnant, I would read when I could. After my son was born, the church encouraged me to write the UTME.
I got admission into the university of my choice. It was a beautiful moment for me because it was more like proof that God hadn’t given up on me.
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How do you balance motherhood and university life now?
My parents take care of my son when school is in session. But I always make it a duty to be around during semester breaks and long public holidays. It’s not easy though. Some days I feel guilty leaving him.
How is your son doing now?
He’s two years old. Full of energy. My parents love him now. My father, the same man who once refused to speak to me, carries him on his shoulders to pacify him whenever he’s crying.
When you look back, what do you think the church’s role in all of these meant for you?
It saved me. If they had pushed me out, I don’t know where I’d be. They gave me dignity when I had none left. They made sure I wasn’t erased because of one mistake.
What message would you share with other young women going through what you went through today?
You are not finished. Your life isn’t over. Find the people who will walk with you, even if it’s just one or two. Don’t drown in shame. Mistakes don’t erase your future.
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*Pseudonym.
