A Story my Body Still Remembers!

There are parts of women’s bodies and lives that rarely make it into public conversations.

In 2020, I had my child at age 40, and the journey almost took my life away.

From the first trimester of my pregnancy, I began to experience serious pelvic floor complications. As the months passed, the pain intensified. Walking became difficult. Sitting was painful. My body slowly started to limit me, and with it, my work. By the time I reached the later months of pregnancy, my world had narrowed to managing pain and trying to endure.

Delivery itself was filled with repeated pain episodes. I had a tear, and like many women in Cameroon, I was stitched while still raw. That pain has stayed with me. Even now, when I remember it, my body reacts before my mind does. I shiver. Some experiences do not leave when the moment passes, they remain in the body.

Then came the fear that followed birth.

My baby cried, and minutes later his skin colour began to change. He was losing breath. He was placed on oxygen for over an hour. Time stretched painfully. In those moments, nothing else existed but waiting and fear.

After childbirth came another quiet loss that women are rarely encouraged to name. Post-partum loss of libido. I lost my desire for sex. Not because of disinterest, but because my body had been through trauma. Pain, fear, hormonal shifts, and exhaustion took over. Survival replaced intimacy. The silence around this makes many women feel broken, when in fact our bodies are responding to shock and recovery. I have really never healed.

And still, despite all of this, I do not regret my decision.

This came twenty years after I had my first son, and it was a personal decision to become mother again. It was not an easy decision, and it was not a light journey, but I am grateful I made it. My son is here. He is alive. And in the midst of everything my body endured, that truth brings me joy.

Pregnancy and delivery is the labour women carry in their bodies. We carry life. We carry pain. We pause our work. We heal quietly. Yet we are still asked what we bring to the table.

Women reproduce the next generation and the future labour force, yet some workplaces punish women for becoming pregnant. Some women lose jobs. Others lose opportunities. Motherhood is treated as a personal choice rather than a collective responsibility. Motherhood is most often underrated and that is not ok. We need to tell these stories so that the world can adjust. We do not bring anything on that table, we are the table.

Mind you, I also hold space for women whose journeys do not include children, whose bodies and lives are no less valuable. We all matter, in our different realities.

I am sharing this because our stories matter. When women speak honestly about what our bodies endure, we make room for dignity, care, and systems that value women beyond productivity.

This is not weakness.

It is the truth of many women’s lives.