They were told to go home and wait.
“Labor will start naturally,” the midwife assured them.
But days passed.
Then weeks.
Rebecca’s stomach kept growing.
Her due date came and went.
People began to whisper.
Her mother visited one afternoon and stared at Rebecca’s stomach in shock.
“Rebecca, how many months now?”
Rebecca answered quietly, “Ten.”
Her mother’s face changed. “This is not normal.”
At night, Rebecca began to dream. She would see herself standing on a dark road. Then the old woman would appear, staring at her.
Rebecca would wake up screaming, soaked in sweat.
“Daniel,” she cried one night. “I keep having bad dreams.”
Daniel tried to calm her. “It’s just pregnancy stress.”
But deep inside, Rebecca knew it was more than stress.
One evening, as she sat alone in the living room rubbing her stomach, she suddenly felt a heavy pressure. Not pain. Not movement. Just a strange stillness.
She whispered to herself, “God, what is happening to me?”
Her neighbors began to ask questions.
“Rebecca, you’re still pregnant? Is everything okay? You are overdue.”
At first, she laughed it off.
“The midwife said it’s normal.”
But deep inside, fear was growing.
By the time Rebecca’s pregnancy entered the eleventh month, fear had completely replaced excitement.
They traveled to town to see a doctor. They ran tests again. They checked her blood. They whispered among themselves.
“There is no medical explanation,” one doctor finally said. “The baby is healthy. Your body is ready, but labor is not starting.”
Rebecca went home shaking.
One evening, Daniel returned home looking disturbed.
“I met someone today,” he said quietly.
Rebecca looked at him with tired eyes. “Another doctor?”
Daniel shook his head. “No. An old man. A traditional healer.”
Rebecca sat up immediately. “No. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Rebecca,” Daniel said firmly, “we have to try something else. This pregnancy is not normal.”
The next morning, she agreed.
They traveled to a quiet village. The healer listened carefully as Daniel explained everything. When he finished, the old man nodded slowly.
“You offended someone who carries ancient pain,” he said, looking directly at Rebecca.
Rebecca frowned. “I don’t remember offending anybody.”
But the healer did not take his eyes off her.
“What did I do? Please help me,” she cried. “I am tired. I am scared. I just want my child.”
The healer sighed.
“I cannot help you,” he said.
Rebecca’s heart dropped.
The old man stood up.
“Please leave. Go and find the person you offended and ask for forgiveness,” he said. “And when you do, you must kneel. Not to beg for the baby, but to beg for forgiveness.”
As they were leaving, the healer added quietly, “If you fail, this child will never be born.”
By the time Rebecca entered her twelfth month of pregnancy, the whole town was talking.
Women pointed at her stomach in the market. Some whispered. Others shook their heads in fear.
No one had ever seen a pregnancy last this long and still not end in childbirth.
Rebecca could no longer walk far. Her back ached constantly. Sleep would not come easily. Each night she lay awake counting her breaths, waiting for labor pains that never came.
Daniel tried to stay strong, but worry had started breaking him.
“We have gone to several midwives, two native doctors, two hospitals,” he said one night, his voice tired. “We have done scans, tests, prayers. The doctors say the baby is alive, but they don’t understand why nothing is happening.”
Rebecca’s eyes filled with tears.
“I feel the baby move,” she whispered, “but it’s like something is holding us back.”
That same week, her mother-in-law came to visit. She studied Rebecca closely, then asked a question that made the room go quiet.
“Rebecca, is there anyone you offended during this pregnancy?”
Rebecca frowned.
“I… I don’t know,” she lied quickly. “I don’t think so.”
The next day, while sitting quietly in her room, her phone rang. It was Mrs. Helen, her former neighbor—the same woman who had tried to stop her the day she slapped the old woman.
“Rebecca,” Mrs. Helen said softly, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”
Rebecca sighed. “Talk, ma.”
Mrs. Helen hesitated.
“Do you remember that old woman you slapped at the junction?”
Rebecca’s heart skipped.
“Yes, I remember.”
Mrs. Helen lowered her voice.
“That woman is not ordinary. Her name is Mama Agnes. People say she has powers.”
Rebecca’s hands began to shake.
That night, Rebecca dreamed again.
She was standing on the same bush path where it all began. The old woman stood before her, eyes burning, pointing a trembling finger at her stomach.
“You have carried this child long enough,” the old woman said in the dream. “You will carry this child until you beg.”
Rebecca woke up screaming.
Daniel rushed to her side.
“What did you see?” he asked.
Shaking, Rebecca finally broke down.
Leave a Comment