“Well, madam. I’m pleased to inform you that you’re pregnant.” I face the doctor, stunned. It is such a cliche moment. The day before, I nearly cut myself with a knife because my hands were trembling so hard. I thought I had a fever (or Lou Gehrig’s). The thought of pregnancy might’ve crossed my mind but I dismissed it because…Nollywood. Nollywood taught me that the first sign of pregnancy was puking your guts out, and I wasn’t puking my guts out. And a part of me didn’t think I could get pregnant without fertility drugs. Call me pessimistic but I know so many women struggling to have babies that I was starting to accept that as the new normal. “You’re married, aren’t you?” The doctor asks me quizzically. My reaction isn’t what he’s expecting, I guess. Lol. I smile. “I am. Thank you, doctor.” “You’re welcome. So come back in 4 weeks, and we’ll see if this pregnancy is viable.” In other words, we’ll see if you haven’t miscarried. So brutal, really. There are a …