@Oyamachris1@GbengaWemimo Your opinion. I double tap into this testimony, God that did for him will remember me also. I use this testimony as a point of contact 🙏
@MarinatedTurks While doing cross country in a trainer aircraft with a colleague, had an airmiss by seconds in a high terrain area over Kano. It happened before we saw them later, they apparently left their track to practice some stunts. 4 of us could have been gone but mercy said No!
@official_QV@EpistleTife That is what you are saying, in case you haven't realized. You're justifying cheating. Well no one is perfect and maybe you should be cheated upon for your weaknesses then you will understand.
@0xjay_web3@Xo_nado1@dimmakilishi It's not hard to see people without any experience in life. As in Nepo babies who have been chauffeured all their life.
@Xo_nado1@dimmakilishi Relationship or marriage doesn't mean you can just trust a human blindly without any care in the world. Be watchful else you will soon learn.
What happened today in the theatre… My hands don’t even feel like mine as I type this.
She didn’t come in on a stretcher.
She walked in.
Slow… unsteady… like every step cost her strength.
Her eyes were swollen from crying.
Her lips were dry.
A 39-week pregnant woman.
Almost at the finish line.
She held her belly tightly and said in a trembling voice:
“My baby hasn’t moved since morning… I feel very weak… something is not right…”
Something about the way she said it…
It didn’t sound ordinary.
It sounded like fear.
Deep fear.
We checked her immediately.
Bl00d pressure… dangérously low.
Pulse… unstable.
Then we checked the baby.
The heartbeat…
Dropping.
Fading.
Struggling.
At that moment, the air in the room changed.
Everyone knew.
This was no longer a “simple complaint.”
This was a race against déãth.
Before we could even move her properly, she suddenly grabbed her chest.
Her eyes widened.
“I feel… dizzy…”
And then
She c0llapsed.
Right there.
Her body hit the floor.
Lifeless.
No response.
No pulse.
Silence.
Then chaos.
“CALL THE CRASH TEAM NOW!”
Everything moved at once.
Oxygen.
IV lines.
Hands pressing on her chest.
“Come back! Stay with us!”
But she wasn’t responding.
And the baby…
The heartbeat was slipping away.
We didn’t have time.
We rushed her to the theatre.
Her body still.
Her eyes closed.
It felt like we were already losing her.
The anaesthetist shouted:
“We cannot wait any longer!”
The surgeon didn’t hesitate.
“Start.”
The incision was made.
Fast. Precise. Urgent.
Seconds felt like hours.
Then…
A baby girl was delivered.
But the room went quiet.
Too quiet.
No cry.
No movement.
Just silence.
The kind of silence that makes your heart sink.
We worked on her immediately.
Suction.
Stimulation.
Oxygen.
“Come on… please…”
Nothing.
Another try.
Still nothing.
You could feel the fear in the room.
Then
A faint sound.
So weak… you almost miss it.
Then another.
A cry.
Small… fragile… but alive.
The room exhaled.
But only for a second.
Because the mother…
Was still gone.
Her body lay there.
Unmoving.
Unresponsive.
We continued CPR.
Calling her name again and again.
Begging without saying the words.
Prayer in our mouth and heart
“Please… don’t leave your baby…”
Minutes passed.
Heavy. Painful minutes.
Then
A tiny movement.
Her fingers.
Just once.
Everyone froze.
“Call her again!”
We did.
Again and again.
Then slowly…
Her eyelids fluttered.
Like someone fighting their way back from somewhere far away.
Then…
She opened her eyes.
Weak.
Confused.
Lost.
But alive.
And the first thing she said…
Barely above a whisper:
“My baby… is she okay?”
That question broke something in all of us.
We brought the baby close.
The tiny cry filled the room.
And tears…
Tears rolled freely.
From her.
From us.
Because just minutes ago…
We thought we had lost both of them.
Today, the labour ward became a place of fear…
Of silence…
Of desperate prayers whispered in hearts…
And mercy answered.
Two lives stood at the edge.
And somehow…
Both came back.
To every mother reading this:
Please don’t ignore your body.
Please don’t stay silent when something feels wrong.
And even when everything looks like it’s slipping away…
Hold on.
Because sometimes…
At the very last second…
Life returns.
Today, a mother lived.
Her baby lived.
And we witnessed something we will never forget.
A miracle… that refused to be late.
Cc: Preshcute utonwa