Asake wept, her head buried under the pillow. She cried for the brother or sister she’d never meet. While tending to her mother’s needs, she’d tried to think like a doctor. Doctors see a lot of suffering and death but didn’t cry or they would never stop. Asake cried. She wasn’t a doctor yet. Her mum wasn’t a patient. The baby wasn’t just anybody.

Ever since she could talk, Asake had wanted a baby brother. Two days after her tenth birthday, her mother called her into their bedroom and locked the door. She asked Asake to sit down on her bed while she pulled up a chair to sit facing her. “You’re becoming a young woman, my dear. Soon, you’ll start menstruating.” At Asake’s scrunched face, she continued, “Menstruation is your body beginning to prepare for motherhood.” Yomi taught her daughter what to expect as her body changed. Then she warned, “Don’t let any man touch you. You don’t want to get pregnant.”

Asake who had been uncomfortable with the topic so far, brightened. “Do you get pregnant when Daddy touches you?” she asked. Yomi’s eyes opened as wide as her mouth. She hadn’t expected their mother-daughter talk to turn into a dialog about her relations with her husband. It was her turn to shift in her seat.

“Emm, you could say so,” she stammered and changed the subject. “You’ll need to keep count of the days between your menstrual cycle so you can prepare well for your period.” Though her mother avoided her question, she couldn’t stop Asake’s curiosity. Following her mother’s instructions, she counted off the days between her periods. She also counted the days between her mother’s periods. And sometimes Asake even knew when her Yomi was pregnant before her mother.

She topped her class in biology. On the computer at home, she researched causes of miscarriage like incompetent cervix, uterine abnormalities, and high hormone levels. She searched preventive measures and shared what she learned with her mother. They tried everything –  prenatal vitamins, bedrest, frequent prenatal visits. Yomi cut back on the days she worked in her boutique. Asake hung out with her after school. Nothing worked.

Asake’s sat upright, her sleep interrupted. “You had another miscarriage? You are useless! her father’s voice boomed from the master bedroom. In the background, Asake’s mother wept.

“You don’t work, you don’t clean the house, you don’t raise the child yet you cannot manage this small task.” Laolu’s harsh words made Asake sad. Dad is frustrated, she thought. He’d been on board for a few years now. He’d cheered her on when Asake said she wanted to be an OB-Gyn doctor so she could help women like her mother to not miscarry. He called her “The Doc.” He listened to her talk about her research discoveries. And he urged his wife to cut back her days at the boutique to one a week so she wasn’t stressed in any way. He even came home to attend pre-natal appointments with his wife.

“I am an only son. I can’t continue to waste my life on fruitless dreams.” Asake sighed. She’d thought he was okay with that because he said they were both only children. Recently, he wasn’t as pleased to listen to his wife or daughter. He no longer patted Asake’s head or call her “The Doc.”

“You’ll leave my house tonight!” Laolu bellowed flinging the bedroom door wide open and stalking into the living room. He no longer cared who overheard his quarrel with his wife.

Asake thought of going to him. Perhaps if she called him, “Daddy D-Doc,” he’d remember they were a team – Daddy D-Doc, Mummy D-Doc, and D-Doc herself. But kids were not supposed to interfere in their parents’ arguments even if it takes place in front of them. And though everything parents do affect their children for better or worse. She said a silent prayer. She prayed her mother would be able to calm her father.

Ten minutes later, Asake heard her father shout, “Leave my house, you useless woman!”