07/30/2026
MY TESTIMONY – PART 6: WHEN I THOUGHT I COULDN'T GO ON
By early 2016, I discovered I was pregnant again.
This was my fifth pregnancy.
People often imagine that every positive pregnancy test brings excitement.
But after everything we had experienced, excitement had been replaced by quiet faith.
I wasn't overflowing with joy.
I simply chose to trust God... one day at a time.
I did everything I knew to do.
I prayed.
I rested.
I registered early for antenatal care at Lagos University Teaching Hospital (LUTH) because of my previous experiences.
I faithfully took my medications.
Everything appeared to be progressing well.
Then, as I approached the third month...
I noticed spotting.
Immediately my heart sank.
*"Oh God... not again."*
Fear gripped me.
I went for a scan.
The sonographer gently said,
The baby isn't growing well.
I sat there in silence.
By this point, I wasn't sure I even had the strength left to cry.
After hearing those words so many times before, disappointment almost felt familiar.
Still hoping for a different outcome, I went for *three additional scans*.
Perhaps someone had made a mistake.
Perhaps this time would be different.
But every report said the same thing.
My heart broke all over again.
The doctors decided that I would need medication to help expel the pregnancy.
That night became one of the longest nights of my life.
From midnight until seven o'clock the following morning, I bled continuously.
Pads were no longer enough.
We used towels.
Even they couldn't contain the bleeding.
I remember sitting there, watching the blood flow, feeling my strength disappear.
Gradually...
My vision became blurry.
I was rushed to LUTH.
As I lay there, I could hear doctors urgently calling to one another:
Get blood!
Get blood!
She's going!
I looked at my husband and, somehow, with the little strength I had left, I smiled and asked,
"Going where?"
In that moment, my faith held on to the only thing that could not fail.
I picked up a bottle of water.
I prayed over it.
And by faith, I reminded myself of the sacrifice of Jesus Christ.
As I drank, I placed my confidence in the God who is our healer and our sustainer.
The doctors immediately ordered blood tests, convinced I would need a transfusion because of the amount of blood I had lost.
But when the results came back...
Everyone was surprised.
To the glory of God, my blood count was stable.
The God who had sustained me had done what only He could do.
Then something else happened that still amazes me.
Earlier that Sunday morning, my father had been repeatedly calling my husband.
We later discovered that, while my mother was in the East, God had burdened her heart through what she believed was a warning to pray urgently for me.
She immediately contacted my father and asked him to go and check on us.
When my father finally reached my husband and learned I was in the hospital, he came immediately.
Within minutes, he was by my bedside, praying with unwavering faith.
Looking back today, I see God's hand all over that moment.
Even when I didn't know what was happening...
God was already stirring the hearts of people who loved me to stand in the gap through prayer.
Before I knew there was danger...
He had already raised intercessors.
By God's mercy, I recovered and was discharged.
I was alive.
I was weak...
But I was alive.
If you've read this far, you may be wondering,
Surely this is where the story changes...
I thought so too.
But there was still another chapter before the testimony.
Sometimes the greatest miracles come after the moments when we feel we have nothing left to give.
"God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble."— Psalm 46:1
Thank you for walking this journey with me.
In the next part, you'll see how God began turning years of tears into a testimony that only He could write.
The story isn't over...
The Promise Keeper was just getting started. 💛
