Hello everyone. In my previous post I shared how my first pregnancy began; here I continue that story from the second trimester. If you missed the first part, you can find it on the same site.
By the second trimester my belly had formed a visible pouch, the worst of the nausea had passed, and I felt more like myself. People around Douala—touts, market women and passersby—started noting my pregnancy with familiar exclamations like “Fatigue! Manyi! Ekete!” and the oft-heard question that always made me cringe: “Qui ta fais comme ca?” (“Who did this to you?”)
I began regular antenatal visits. My first check-up was at twelve weeks at my preferred clinic, Mboppi Baptist Health Centre, known locally as Mbingo. With my mother by my side I felt both supported and a bit sheltered, like a teenager under supervision. We left early, or at least we planned to.
We walked to the main road to catch a taxi. Drivers passed by until one agreed to stop after we offered a little more than the usual two hundred francs fare. I’ve always enjoyed medical visits, so I was looking forward to the prenatal class. I hopped out of the taxi, chatting with my mum like schoolmates as we headed to the prenatal section.
On arrival the waiting area was full—so many pregnant women gathered at once that it felt like a chorus of hormones. I took a number indicating my place in line and found a seat. The woman beside me, Aunty Pauline, owned a hair salon and was expecting her second child. She joked through the wait: “Na truck bring me today. I no sure say I go fit cam every month.”
There was Elsie, who sold puff-puff and had travelled from Bonaberi; Amelie, a francophone girl determined not to gain weight; and Annabel, whose expression betrayed the discomfort many of us felt in public waiting rooms. After a short morning devotion and a health talk, nurses took our vital signs. We were screened for common infections, had abdominal exams, and underwent other routine checks to ensure mother and baby were healthy.
After that first appointment, I returned monthly for antenatal care. Each visit included a lecture, urine tests for protein and sugar, and the lighthearted nickname the staff used for us: “belle dem.” With the nausea of the first trimester behind me, the second trimester felt easy and peaceful.
Prayer was a central part of my routine. I prayed for protection from the things that harm children, for a considerate, healthy baby, and for a smooth delivery. Time moved quickly and before I knew it I was entering an eventful third trimester.
I’ll share the next chapter of this journey in my following post. If you haven’t read the first part, I recommend starting there so this piece fits into the full story. Which phase of pregnancy did you enjoy most, and why? I’d love to hear your thoughts below.
My week began slowly, but a sudden burst of energy set things in motion. Thank God—see you in the next post!