Friday, 3 October 2025

Emir Of Tsaragi Orders Arrest Of Leader Of Youths Protesting Against Rising Killings, Banditry In Kwara | Sahara Reporters bit.ly/3WfmteV

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"She failed the test," someone said, too loud to be private, too soft to challenge. I was lying in the maternity ward of a public hospital, my baby still in the newborn unit. My body ached, my emotions raw from labour, and yet those four words cut deeper than any contraction. Failed what test? A nurse passed by without meeting my eyes. Another one whispered to her colleague, glancing in my direction. My stomach tightened. Something was wrong, and nobody wanted to tell me. Hours earlier, I had delivered a healthy baby girl after twelve hours of labour. I thought the most challenging part was over. I was wrong. Now, as the ward lights flickered above me, the same nurse who had congratulated me earlier stood next to my bed. Her tone had changed. "Ma, you will not room-in with your baby yet," she said. My heart skipped. "Why? Is she alright?" "She is fine. But we need to confirm something first." "What thing?" I asked. "Your test results," she said quietly, closing the file. Minutes later, my husband arrived. I told him what had happened. His smile faded. We went to the nurses' station together. They exchanged uneasy glances. Finally, one said, "A child-protection office has to clear you first." I felt my chest tighten. "Clear me? For what?" The nurse lowered her voice. "It's about your screening, Ma. They said you tested positive…"

"She failed the test," someone said, too loud to be private, too soft to challenge. I was lying in the maternity ward of a pub...