To my nephew...

“Ah! Finally,” I mutter as I jump down. You may never experience this, but we use danfo buses (yellow and black public buses) in Lagos to commute to places, and for the height level, you jump to reach the ground.

It was like every other regular Friday- go to work, leave at evening time, struggle with body odour and loud people, argue with the conductor who refuses to be reasonable, all while nursing a headache. The only thought in my head now really is to get to my bed and sleep.

Nothing gave a clue or hint that the night was going to turn out that way. The strap of my office bag bit into my shoulder as I dragged myself toward the gate. There had been a power outage for days, so I wasn’t shocked that everywhere was dark. My only worry was returning to that heat, and sweating even after taking a warm shower, cause the tap water was hardly ever cold.

A black car with its heavy dagger-light blurred my vision, honking loudly. I thought for a second he wanted me to move from the road, but I realised quickly, it was to get my attention. When he wound down his tinted glass, I peeked in to make sense of the face, as he asked where I was going. Usually, I’d decline cause I know the next move, but I was tired as life and what’s a few minutes in an air-conditioned car before the wave of heat.

I got into his car, and what a blabbermouth he was, but guess who entertained this stranger and joined in his lamentations about the light situation? Me. I could not explain it, but that night was different. I spoke with so much vim, which is crazy because I was exhausted just a few minutes ago. So what prompted me to be so ecstatic? I knew it wasn’t the man because he mentioned that he was married and wanted to know me on a personal level. I had clocked out but still entertained his convos, we banted like we had known each other and were reconnecting.

Now, to my surprise, he drives to the front of my estate, and the whole community lights up. There hasn’t been light in days; we have been living in pitch darkness, but that night the city lights came on. If I had the slightest hint that you were coming, I would have dipped earlier from the man’s car, but we spoke an extra five minutes before I alighted and told him loudly to “Greet his wife when he gets home”. Just when I was about to block the number he used to call, I resorted to checking first the location map I had sent to your aunt F.

Your mum was in delivery. I needed to start praying.

I froze in the middle of the road; thanks to God, no car was passing. I felt my heart drop; a thousand and one scenarios running through my mind. From what I knew, we were not expecting to see you till month end. So what changed? Did something bad happen? Was your mum okay?

Thankfully, the whole estate was lit now; if not, I would have fallen while I walked with speed, muttering every prayer I could. No one was responding to my messages, which made me more anxious. I held on to my pendant as I usually would when I got nervous, and I kept praying一 loudly. I remember vividly just repeating “God, please” at intervals. If no one was answering, then probably you were very much on your way already.

I sped through the flight of stairs that led to my room, looking for someone, anyone, then I see your grandmother in the living room, blasting in tongues. Oh Lord, it really must be serious. I’m panicking more, but I just keep praying. Ten minutes later, I hear your mum’s voice on the call, and I run out of my room to your grandma’s side to hear the phone call. Your mum sounds okay.

It’s then I hear that she hasn’t gone into labour yet, she was going to be prepped two hours later for an emergency CS, a bit of relief rushed through me because at least she was fine. I spoke to your dad, too; he sounded pretty calm. But an emergency CS??? I encourage myself immediately not to think negatively and head into the shower. I let the water droplets run through my low cut, and anxiety leaves me; all that’s left is just excitement now.

How will you look? Whose features will you take? As I step out, your other aunties are in the living room, and we talk about the whole pregnancy process. I try to school them on delivering babies through CS from all the YouTube vlogs I have watched of new moms. I know, or at least I think I know, the things to expect, so I tell them it should not take more than 30 minutes for you to be out.

Around midnight, your grandmother told us to start singing. Your Aunty F and I sang every chorus we could remember, with cracked voices, off-key notes, and laughter breaking through the songs. The room felt alive.

Midnight passed. Then one a.m. came. Nothing. No news. No text. I was fighting sleep now, heavy-eyed but refusing to give in because I needed to know you were safe.

Sometime after one, your grandmother screamed, “He’s here!!!!” I looked up, tired but smiling, and in the background, Mercy Chinwo’s “You Do This One” was playing. Your grandmother danced and burst into praises and prayers of thanksgiving at the same time. Your Aunty F was in awe, adoring the photos of you. I ran downstairs to wake your Aunty O with the news. That night was extremely special; it was an answer to the prayers that had covered our hearts for years.

I slept so well that night, I kept replaying your pictures over and over again in my mind. I longed to hold you, know what you smelt like, and how your supple skin would feel against mine. There was a feeling of responsibility; I was no longer the “baby of the house”. I slept without any care in the world. It was that night that the light was graciously restored. It was that night my heart ached for someone who hadn’t even met me yet.

I would later go on to tell my friend days later how much I could not fathom my feelings for you, how immense the love I had for someone who may probably only see me through video calls. And truly, to this day, I still cannot explain it. I know for sure I’d love you to death. The joy and warmth you brought to this family is unmatched, and I’d never want to replace that feeling for anything.

To my little ray of sunshine, Lucas🥹💙, I love you more than words can tell, and I cannot wait to see you, my munchkin. Thank you for making me the proudest Aunty ever to exist.

I leave you with this song, for God will forever remain gracious and kind to you💙🫂