A Nigerian woman has shared the harrowing incident that finally ended her marriage. Judith Yop Pam-Tok, a community development practitioner, made the decision to end her marriage in 2009, 17 years ago.
In a Facebook post on Tuesday, she detailed how her husband's nonchalant reaction during a severe miscarriage, where she bled profusely, led to her final decision. She explained that she had an 8-month-old baby whom she was breastfeeding and was already two months pregnant. When she started bleeding heavily, her husband ignored her, and it was her 8-year-old daughter who had to step into an adult role to help.
She wrote: "So this is how the events that finally broke the camel's back unfolded. People often say, 'it ended suddenly.' But for many of us, it never does. It is a quiet accumulation of moments, each one chipping away at something sacred, until one day, clarity arrives. This was mine."
"It started with a new pregnancy, while I still had a baby barely six months old. My body had not even healed, yet life was already asking more of it. By about two months into the pregnancy, I began to bleed. Perhaps it was my rhesus negative status, perhaps something else. But one thing was certain, I needed medical attention."
"A doctor at the Catholic hospital in Kubwa had already scheduled me for an evacuation. Necessary. Urgent. Non-negotiable. Yet, the man I was married to, the one who should have been concerned about my wellbeing, refused to take responsibility for the medical bills, not because he didn't have but because he just didn't care."
"I was meant to return to the hospital. I thought I could hold on till Monday. But that night, at about 9:00pm, while feeding my 8-month-old baby, everything changed. A sudden, heavy 'boom,' then blood. I stood up immediately. What I saw on the floor was beyond anything I had imagined. The blood."
"I was scared. Confused. I walked to the corridor and stood, bleeding, until I found myself standing in a pool of my own blood. It was terrifying. And yet, in that moment, instinct took over. I needed help. I asked my first daughter to get me my phone. Even now, that detail stays with me, the role reversal, a child stepping into a moment no child should witness. But my 8-year-old child was more useful to me than a full-grown adult."
"All the while, he sat there. Watching. Silent. No urgency. No alarm. No movement. Just watching. I called my brother, Dr. Ibrahim Ango, a gynaecologist. His response was immediate: 'Judith, you need to get to the hospital now. If not, you could bleed to death.' It was only then that the man I married spoke: 'If you want me to take you to the hospital, let's go.'"
"I didn't have the luxury of processing that statement. I went into the bathroom, had a wash, got dressed, and went to my neighbour to ask her niece to please watch my babies while we rushed out. But even leaving for the hospital came with another moment I would never forget. We lived in an official compound with eight flats, each with designated parking. My car was parked behind his. So I moved my car, waiting for him to move his, but he refused. He did not want his car used. He did not want it stained with blood. So we used mine."
"And then, he did something I still struggle to fully comprehend. He walked to the passenger seat and sat down. And I, the patient, bleeding, weak, and in distress, drove myself to the hospital. Yes, I drove the car with this man sitting on the passenger's seat beside me. Sometimes when I remember that moment, I feel a surge of anger, because I was confronted with something deeply unsettling, the absence of basic humanity where I expected care. It was not just neglect. It was the coldness of it. The detachment. The willingness to remain untouched by someone else's pain, someone you were meant to take care of."
She went on to narrate how she also received next to no support from her husband when they got to the hospital and how he left the hospital as soon as the doctor began attending to her.
