Just at the point that I felt fully stretched. Feeling I would soon expire. There was a great rush, and my baby slid smoothly out. Just then, a wondrous sensation of utter bliss engulfed me. Difficult to put into words really. My taut muscles and aching joints felt awash with warm, healing oil. I was totally relaxed. It came naturally to me to borrow Mary's Song of Praise right then, as I had done at my other two deliveries. Indeed, He that is mighty had done great things to me, and holy is His name!' It was 7:35 p.m.

It was only after my recitation that I requested to know about my baby.

"It's a boy!" Matron Olubi joyfully announced and held him up. Like his sister, but unlike his brother, he did not cry. He looked somewhat stiff to me. He was taken out of the cubicle for checking and cleaning. I thanked God over again that my baby had been born alive. My religious friends, Rev. Sr. Kathleen O'Reagan and other Our Lady of Apostles nuns, who paid regular visits to me in the hospital, Father Joseph Schuyler, who brought me Communion every Sunday, and Professor Rev. Olaitan, my "Sunday Sunday medicine", had all prayed for this wonderful outcome. The good Lord has now answered all our prayers.

Matron Olubi returned to deliver the placenta. "I want you to cough for me now," she instructed as she pressed her hand on my abdomen while I lay flat on my back. I coughed.

"Again. Again," she called until the after-birth was dislodged. I was cleaned up after that. My son was brought back to me, also all cleaned up, and wrapped in a shawl. He was placed in the crook of my arm. Though exhausted, I was blissfully happy and contented. My son was whimpering now and I noticed that he was shaking ever so slightly, but continuously. As if he felt a little chill. "He is cold, Matron," I informed as she continued to clean and put away things in the cubicle. She came over and looked at my son.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Adenubi," she urged. "He will be all right. You see we had a little problem with him a while back. I made you stop pushing during labour because I found that he had his umbilical cord wound round his neck as he was coming out. I had to unwind that before I let you resume pushing," she explained.

His umbilical cord was recorded as 58cm long, with the remark, "very mucousy and slightly blue at birth". His birth weight was 3.74kg and his head circumference was 35cm. It was further stated in his delivery sheet, that the first stage of labour took four hours and twenty-five minutes. The second and third stages, ten minutes each! This labour was as long then as the one that had brought Kemi into the world eight years earlier. Muyiwa's own was much longer.

My son and I had remained under observation in the labour ward for some time. We were now being prepared for the post-natal ward. A refreshing cool breeze met us as we were wheeled out. My husband and mother-in-law were waiting outside as we came out. Both looked relieved to see us. My mother had died a year and four months earlier. She too would have been a part of this welcoming party. They came with us to the ward where my son was placed in his own cot beside my bed. I waved our visitors goodnight as my son and I were settled for the night.

In the morning, one of the nurses on duty bathed my baby and returned him into his freshly made cot. I had performed my own ablution and I now settled back to examine my God-given bundle of joy! He had a pink wrinkled little face; a head of curly black hair and a body like any normal baby. However, I noticed that he still shivered, just a little, so I wrapped the shawl more closely round him to keep him warmer. The doctor on call duty that morning came to check on him. I mentioned my observation to him. He said very little but entered in his case note, "tendon reflexes exaggerated. No other abnormalities."

The following day, the same doctor noted again that he was "still jittery" and he ordered a "serum magnesium test" on him. He took some blood from his heel for this purpose. The same day, he received the BCG, an anti-tuberculosis vaccine.

Because I am always after second and third opinions on any medical matter, I soon engaged two paediatrician friends in conversation about my son's jitteriness. I tried not to seem particularly worried. Nevertheless, they were rather guarded in their comments. I noted that they both, in turn, probed the back of his head and mumbled something about "a gap". I looked on calmly, expecting them to give me some kind of explanation for it. They simply advised, "There is no need for you to worry, Bolaji. If anything is really wrong we shall soon know from the result of the blood test. If it indicates a deficiency, this will be treated. Anyway, you are looking well yourself," and they departed.

When they moved on, I too examined the base of my son's head and found a small hollow there. Maybe it was a little unusual, but I had forgotten what that part of the anatomy felt like in my other two babies. Nonetheless, I brought up the matter with my paediatrician brother-in- law, Dr. Debola Ajasin. He explained that, "Cranial bones of infants need to have spaces between them for future growth. This is particularly so at birth, when there is need for some flexibility to allow the head to pass easily through the mother's birth canal. After this, of course, these bones will grow in size and bulk to cover the brain and other tissues in the head, the space that you now feel, will soon be filled out," he assured. All that sounded reasonable enough and I felt satisfied that my son was not in any danger.

We were discharged from the hospital five days after delivery. The result of the blood test was still not available, but we were told that, should there be a need to hospitalize him because of the result, we would be immediately contacted. I was glad to leave the hospital again with a child.

Kemi and Muyiwa were happy to see their new brother who was installed in Muyiwa's former room. The latter moved in with Kemi in our three-bedroom apartment. Ramota, the young girl who had been looking after the other two children, now had a third to care for. Ishola, the young man, helping with the cooking and with the cleaning of the house, will also help in playing with Muyiwa, particularly when Ramota was busy with the baby. These two had been managing the household in my absence, and they had done so admirably well. They too were glad to see me the baby and me back in the family.

Well-wishers called at the house to welcome the baby and to congratulate the family as news of our arrival spread. My mother-in-law even offered to move in with us for some days, but my husband discouraged this for lack of space. It was agreed, though, that she would come in the mornings to give the baby his bath. This is a privilege a grandmother always claims on such occasion. My mother had rendered the same service two years earlier in the case of Muyiwa. She came in early every morning to bathe the baby. My mother-in-law bathed the baby on the sixth and seventh days. Because the naming ceremony took place early on the morning of the eighth day, I bathed him myself before my mother-in-law arrived for the celebration.

The eighth-day naming ceremony is traditional among the Yoruba, the ethnic group to which my husband and I belong. Rev. Ayo Odukoya performed the rite that has become intermixed with Christian and Muslim religious worship. Besides calling on the Almighty God to bless the new member of the family, special prayers were offered with the aid of some traditional ceremonial materials. For instance, the wrinkled skin of the bitter kola is peeled off and the nut cut into small pieces. A piece is placed on the baby's lips, and then the mouth of the reverend gentleman, or whoever is performing the ceremony. A prayer is offered that as the bitter kola is old and wrinkled, the baby will grow to a ripe old age. Honey is also used, with the prayer that his life will be sweet. Salt, that he will be a preserver of the society's customs and traditions, the good name of the family and its properties, and so on.

Nearly as many names as the people present were given to our baby that day. My mother-in-law had earlier sent two names for our consideration. These were Oyewole and Adeboye. She was recently made the Iyalode (leader of the town's women) of Ijebu-lgbo. Because the Yoruba also name their children according to their families' circumstances at their birth, it was appropriate that a grandchild be named to commemorate my mother-in-law's social honor. The 'oye' in both names tell of the chieftaincy title in the family. Oyewole was preferred of the two. This name and two others Olusola and Oluseun, given by members of the family and friends were selected for registration on his birth certificate and for all official records. The naming ceremony entertainment commenced from early evening in our apartment. More family members and friends called then to make merry with us and to give presents to Oyewole Olusola Oluseun.