We were sent to do a job, we forgot the job, forgot our home and got lost in this place.
Alhamdulilah for a complete month of grace and mercy granted unto us by Allah to remind us of our job and our home. May Allah guide our path and grant us steadfastness in the deen.
#Ramadan
@AirtelNigeria@Airtel_Presence
I use an Airtel 5G router, the one that has an accessory installed outside the house for signal but it has been down since yesterday. I work from home and I’ve been stranded and unable to work at all because the network is terrible.
@AirtelNigeria@Airtel_Presence Hi
I use an Airtel 5G router, the one that has an accessory installed outside the house for signal but it has been down since yesterday. I work from home & I’ve been stranded and unable to work at all because the network is terrible.
My name is Zainab. I’m 27 years old. An SS.
That is, I live with sickle cell disease.
My parents are both AS.
Oh, they They knew.
They were told.
They still married.
They said God approved it. They said love would be enough. They said faith would cover the consequences.
I am the consequence.
I was diagnosed before I was two. My childhood memories are not playgrounds or cartoons,they are; hospitals, needles, and adults whispering when they thought I couldn’t hear.
In primary school, I missed classes so often that teachers stopped asking why. Some classmates thought I was pretending. Some thought I was cursed. I learned early how to smile while feeling different.
By secondary school, the pain episodes became more frequent. I would wake up excited for school and end the day on a hospital bed. I watched my mates grow normally while my life moved in pauses, school, hospital, recovery, repeat.
At 15, I lost my younger brother to sickle cell.
We were both SS.
That day changed me forever.
My parents broke down in front of me — crying, apologizing, saying “We followed faith. We didn’t think…”
But the damage had already been done.
Sometimes I forgive them.
Sometimes I resent them deeply.
Both feelings live in me.
In university, I tried to be normal. I joined sickle cell advocacy groups, volunteered with awareness organizations, spoke at events, encouraged parents to test their genotype. People call me strong. They call me a warrior.
What they don’t see is me crying alone at night after another silent pain episode.
They don’t see the fear that comes with planning a future in a body that doesn’t always cooperate.
And Relationships?
That’s another wound.
I’ve been loved… briefly.
The moment conversations turn serious about marriage, children, commitment….they leave. Some are honest. Some ghost me. Some promise forever and disappear quietly.
One man once said he would do anything for me. He talked about taking me abroad, better care, a life without fear. I believed him. For the first time, my heart rested.
Then one day, he stopped calling.
That heartbreak triggered one of the worst crises I’ve had as an adult. Not because of physical stress but because hope collapsed.
Now I’m older. The pain episodes come differently. Less dramatic, but more exhausting. My body recovers slower. My fears are heavier. I ask myself questions my parents never asked each other.
I am strong, yes.
But I am tired.
If you are AS and the person you love is AS, please love your unborn children enough to stop and think. Faith is not a license to ignore knowledge. I am a proof to that
I didn’t ask to be a lesson.
But if my life can prevent another child from being born into avoidable pain, then my voice matters.
That’s why I’m writing this to you. Because people listens to you and this story needs to be heard. I hope that your audience share this till it reaches those who are about to walk by faith and not by sight, Sickle Cell is real!.
Adeyinka, keep rescuing lives, I love how you raise awareness and say the truth unapologetically, those who do not like you are probably those who wish they could be you. Have you met you?. Oh,I see you Queen Ade💪🏻
@AUNTYMUSE_@osemagnum@Chef_Tee_ It was my first delivery and the experience wasn’t pleasant, I didn’t know then, I learnt the hard way. The next time I had a baby. I took care of myself by myself 😅I had known better and knew what was best for me. I still had a tear but it healed faster and better.
@AUNTYMUSE_@osemagnum@Chef_Tee_ the surface of the wound to make it fresh and then do a repair. After 6 week which was meant to have been the end of my postpartum period where I’d have been discharged from gyne, was when I had the episiotomy repair & it was hell. The pain was terrible & I don’t pray it for any1
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