In honour of mums who’ve lost a child to Sickle Cell Anaemia and made to feel guilty for the loss of their babies.
No mother should ever have to bury her baby.
BLOOD CODE
& I cannot tell you the meaning of my name
without telling you the story of my mum
a Nigerian woman who at the age of 16 lost her first baby.
& her second baby when she was 18.
the first baby on the first day after a few breaths…
& second at three months
as chronic pain ravaged her fragile body.
& that watershed moment
when her breath slowly faded
a
w
a
y
like a maple falling leaf
bronze-orange
her eyes yellowish-orange
as bilirubin flooded her bloodstream
her red blood cells
b r o k e
d
o
w
n
I’d also have to let you know ‘bout
the bow-line knot in her stomach
as her baby’s tiny fingers & toes
s w e l l e d
b’cause the sickle-shaped red blood cells
blocked
the blood flow to her tiny bones
& the burden she bore
watching her baby in agonising pain
& pain she’d gladly bear
as her baby’s life faded
a
w
a
y
that memory etched in her soul.
& how that moment changed her life.
I’d have to tell
the burden & guilt she bore
like a crown of thorns
weighing
d
o
w
n on her
& the w h i s p e r s like wisps of smoke hovering around her
because in the 70’s landscape,
people knew nothing about sickle cell disease.
so, they shamed mums’
ostracized
mums’
& called the babies
Ogbanje
evil child.
I’d have to tell you
my mum didn’t buckle
&because I came along
she called me
Botimi
Comestay
desperate to believe
but like my two sisters before me
she bore a foreboding tinge of fear
every time she’d rush me to the hospital
in temperatures high enough to cramp my muscles
but I survived
& three months
& one year
I’m still here
& I believe
It’s because of Christ
because of the blood
that I’m alive.
Nun River Pages 
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