Saturday, October 9, 2010

The After

Mmmhmm. So where was I?

The next morning at about 6am I began to feel slight pains, slight contractions. I did not mind because I knew I was going into surgery and they wouldn't be a bother. I got up and had a bath and even had a chat with one of my ward mates.The nurse came to shave me a little while later telling me I would soon be prepped for surgery. At about 7.30 am the contractions became stronger and the nurse gave me an injection to stop them, all the while complaining that the doctors should have been there since. Funny enough, the drug that was meant to halt the contractions and its effects had the opposite effect. The pain escalated like mad!

Anyway, to cut a long story short, I never had surgery. It was Easter Monday and the consultants were not in any hurry to go to work; and without the consultants only emergencies went to the theatre. At about 12 noon my water broke and I had to be transferred to the labour ward. There I laboured until about 3.14pm when my very vocal baby came out. I will talk about the process of delivery and attendant issues later but for now let me just say that labour pains are over-rated. I still consider my delivery a miracle from God; what are the chances of your giving birth naturally on the day of your scheduled CS? And without complications, even with all the diagnosis?

(As I write, I remember all that my dear mother went through during this period. Sitting on the kerb from morning till evening when she was finally allowed to see me and the baby, briefly. When they said the baby was out, her question was 'what of my own?' I remember this because right now I am having issues with her and those issues pale in comparison to what she went through for me at the hospital and afterwards.)

So I was discharged the next day, sore- I had to be stitched as I suffered some tears, bleeding and exhausted. I never felt the ecstasy that new mothers feel. I just felt tired and very curious about this little person I was carrying home. When we got home, there was relative peace for 3 days as the owner of the house was still away with her kids. On the 4th day, early in the morning I was asleep with the baby in the living room when they came in. The first sign of problems, for me, came when the househelp, who I thought I was close to, came in carrying a carton, when I greeted her she said' congratulations ma' and walked away, without even looking at the baby. Anyway, they settled in and had stayed about 2 days before the real trouble started.

In the room that we stayed in we had little in terms of furniture, actually the only furniture was the bed, I had to borrow the stool from the living room to place the baby food and bottles on, just so it wasn't on the ground. Now, throughout that morning the househelp and a few relations of my hostess had been in the kitchen doing this, that and the other. Up till 11 am my mum could not find space to even boil water to make tea for me. She was very upset about this as I had just given birth a few days ago and she felt i really needed nutrition. Also she was hungry. In the midst of this, the househelp sent the hostesses son to collect the stool but I explained to him that I was using it. Then a few hours later she sent him again, so I told him to tell her to come and see what I was doing with it so she could understand. She sent him back to me saying she was busy. Bear in mind that she was in the kitchen which is directly opposite the room. And to add insult to injury I heard her shout at the boy' go and bring the stool for me!' I was really upset about this and the breakfast thing that after one more complaint from my mum I just went into the kitchen and started doing what I wanted without caring who was using what. I also went to the living room and told my hostess- who I'll call L from now- that I would like to talk to her later. She followed me immediately and as I was trying to explain to her that her househelp was giving my mum issues, I began crying. Her response shocked me though. She related the whole incident from the side of the househelp, and asked what the problem was. Then she began saying that she had been hearing things and she did not want to act on it. My mum then came out of the room and called us in and L began saying that I had been having issues with her househelp, and thehousehelp had been complaining. That I snapped at her ! She said she believed because sometimes when she, herself, was speaking to me I would switch off. (Pray tell what is my offence there?) She said that her househelp was going to leave because of me but she had to tell her to stay. And that was the beginning of the wahala.

My mum never believed that this girl made up these stories. She kept asking me why I allowed her come when I was having problems with the people I was staying with. She said that explained why they packed away before I gave birth. She said they were only waiting for me to give birth before they showed me how they felt Well, if there was a problem with them I was just hearing about it, we never parted on a bad note and we were still in communication while they were away. Anyway, that day became the turning point in that househelp's behaviour. From then on, when her madam was away, she did everything to make our lives miserable; she deliberately would make a lot of noise in the kitchen as we tried to sleep late at night, my mum would wash clothes and hang them on the clothes rail on the balcony, she would take them off and send the boy to give them back to my mum that she wanted to sit there. She would stay in the living room and hide the remote control so we could not watch TV, the last straw was when she would send the boy to tell a guest of ours to go out of the room that she wants to lock the door. After she had done this thrice, my mum went up to her one evening and asked her why she was doing that, that we could lock the door ourselves when the girl was leaving. She shouted at my mum, saying 'I want to lock my door!'

L, on her own part, also began to act weird. At some point she told me she needed to move and if I was interested in taking over her house she would give it to me for the price of her rent (35ok). I had just been paid 250k for a job so I was ready to search for 100k to complete it and finally settle into a plae of my own, no matter how bad it was. So I agreed. Imagine my surprise then, when she sent me a message a few days later saying she would accept 500k as payment for the place. I had no idea why she wanted 500 for a place she paid 350 for but I could barely afford 350. So I told her that I did not have that and that I was still trying to raise the 350 but that if she had to give it to someone else I would understand. She said she might have to do that as she did not want to stress me too much. Only for her to come home in the evening and act very cold to me and my mum! My mum demanded too see the text messages between us to be sure that I did not say anything rude. When she was satisfied that this was coming from nowhere she made us decide on a date when we were leaving Lagos for Benin. We decided on leaving after my first post-natal check up and after my baby's HIV test. The date was May 16th. I then apologised to L in a text message if I had offended her, and asked that she be patient with me till the 17th when I would stop stretching her resources. During this time, I tried to contact the friend who brought me to that house, she claimed to have been very busy and several times promised to come but never made it. After a while, she stopped answering my calls.

In between all this, I had found time to go to the HIV centre in LUTH , and done my tests and that of my baby. Suffice it to say that so far-and forever by God's grace- she's been HIV negative. So after my appointments I found myself on the way to my parents'. I've been here now for about 5 months and it's not been so bad. MY baby is thriving and loved by everyone.EVERYONE. The atmosphere is calmer than in Lagos.

I'm tired. I've been typing for ages. When I come back, I'll talk about the reaction of my baby's father to the announcement of her birth and other issues.


Monday, August 9, 2010

The Before

When something monumental happens in your life you record all things against that event. For me life is now split into 'before the baby' and 'after the baby'.

Before The Baby

So my friend had a serious quarrel with her husband over the call. Apparently, the man had been visiting with her sister an her mother in her sister's house in a bid to settle the quarrel they had and she suspected her family was involved in making him send me away; so the quarrel was extended to them. The whole thing degenerated into a serious mud-slinging and name-calling phone call session that went so bad that she was advised by her father, the only neutral man in the situation to find me somewhere else to stay. She then made the arrangements and came home to let me know; I would be moving to the house of a mutual friend. She was just an acquaintance to me but apparently they were very close. That Sunday, with a lot of help from her- she drove me to the place I had kept my property and helped me take a bed and mattress, and drove me to the friend's place- I moved.

I stayed in that house till May 17th, after which I left for my hometown. The incidents that led to my leaving that house and Lagos, strange as they may seem, are the issues that distinctly divide the 'before the baby' era from the 'after'. And they still are very painful to talk about. As a matter of fact this will be the first time I will be saying anything about them since they occurred.

The area where this house was located was quite the posh neighbourhood, but as we entered the street the lady lived on I began to wonder. It was like the ghetto of the area with the attendant noise and dirt and chaos that you expect in such areas. In truth that wasn't really a problem to me. It was just important that I had a place to stay in Lagos, for obvious reasons. I was immediately accepted into the house and treated quite well. I was happy and relaxed. I was introduced to the lady's kids - a boy of 9 and a girl of almost 1- and the househelp-cum-nanny who lived in. She was a young girl of maybe 21-25 and a pivotal part of the story. There was also the driver-cum-major domo who stayed in the house on weekdays and left on weekends. The househelp immediately took to assisting me even washing my clothes and once, escorting me to my ante-natals. I had only praises for her and took to her like a sister. Life was fine, and my mum even came for a pre-visit before the main visit for my delivery. My greatest problem was getting enough money to perform my caesarean and to buy my baby clothes, and even my hostess helped me out by offering me 20000 naira and buying some few baby, hospital needs and giving me some old baby items. When push came to shove I finally went to register in a public hospital. Turns out that was the best decision I ever made because they had the expertise in dealing with my case even with the complications of HIV. (At this juncture I must commend Lagos Island Maternity, no anonymity is required here And thanks to a few of my nice new acquaintances I was registered and booked for surgery . Two weeks before the CS my mum came to stay with me, also at that time my hostess had been complaining to me that her househelp wanted to leave for her home and she was not sure she would come back. The week of my delivery, actually two days before,the pumping machine broke down. My hostess, without warning, moved herself and her kids away from the house, leaving us a heavily pregnant woman and an old lady who did not know her way around to fend for ourselves without water. My mother felt very offended and thought something had gone wrong in the relationship. I flatly disagreed with her and just saw it as an oversight on the part of the hostess. I even communicated my mother's feelings to her and she apologised to me and asked me to do same to my mum. My mum was still disatisfied with the situation and called her brother over asking that we stay in his house, that I move in with him. He appeared to agree but never picked up his calls after then and never showed up to take me to the hospital for my surgery. We had to look for a taxi to convey us. All in all, due to donations from a former colleague, a friend and my hostess I was able to raise the money for my delivery at the Island Maternity. On Easter Sunday, I was admitted into the hospital for surgery the next morning. ... this is such an emotional part of the story that I am finding it hard to talk about, but I will .

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

When It Rains...

I got evicted again, tonight. I did not do anything, I'm just a sitting duck for the shooter.

My friend, in whose house I am now staying, is married to a guy as the 2nd wife. This house is hers, built by her. For a while she had been having issues with the guy; he tells lies , he is probably cheating on her, and more recently, he was shielding the truth about his first wife's diabolical nature. All these are my friend's accusations, how true they are remains to be proven.

Anyway, for a while my friend had been having serious health problems. She had experienced heavy, menstrual-like bleeding for over 20 days, and on Sunday she had accompanying pelvic pain and had to be rushed to the hospital. Since her mother is still around taking care of her sister's new baby she rushed to her side with a retinue of 'pastors' or seers or whomever they consult, who said the same thing; the first wife was using diabolical means to attack my friend. My friend then tried to talk to her husband about this and the next thing I heard she was screaming at him on the phone -they always fight like that- because he was pretending not to know his 1st wife dabbled in juju. In all this I minded my own business and did not behave like I knew anything.

So imagine my surprise when the guy called me this evening with a hidden number, and started asking how prepared I was for my delivery and after. When I explained the situation of things to him, he said if it was a miracle I was waiting for I should, from now, better start thinking of how I would transition (leave) this place because he wanted to bring someone in who was going to stay 5 months. And I should think of the transition in terms of my delivery, and afterwards, blah, blah, blah.In other words, I should start making arrangements to leave his house before the baby comes. When he dropped the phone I just started crying , not because of his harshness or his sudden decision, but because I am tired.

I could sense that my friend's mother doesn't like me or want me to be here, and the guy had been with her that evening, explaining his role in the 1st wife issue, so whether my presence came up at that gathering is left to God to decide. The point is that my presence is no longer conducive for anyone. My friend got reaally wild when she heard what transpired and warned all her family members, they will now feel angry that she's raving at them because of a guest. I feel that I don't need to cause her problems in her home because I have mine. The wahala is plenty jo, and I am just exhausted. I need permanent rest.

Only God knows where I am going now, or how I will get there. And considering my delivery is just 3 weeks away!


Friday, February 26, 2010

Counting My Blessings

It was 2004, I believe, I had recently been duped of some money I paid for a house, my soon-to-be-ex landlady was on my neck to leave her place (I've never been lucky with accommodation, right from University), so I had moved to a friend's bq. Unfortunately, as it turned out, she also wanted me out too for some reason, so I was stuck. At that time, as at now. I had no way of gathering the money needed to make rent again. everything I had was gone into the dupe's hands. I don't know if it was then I turned to God, or before then, but I held on to Him and believed in a miracle. I had turned away from doing evil, including sleeping with my boyfriend who I told I was turning my life around. (Funny, boyfriend, then, is baby daddy now- so much for that resolve.)

I actually enjoyed being Christian then. It wasn't borne out of a need per se but just a desire to do right by God. I loved going to church , both on Sundays and during the week, and I loved the communion with Him ; my neighbours thought I was having an affair with someone and was concealing it. Anyway, in the midst of this situation was when this accommodation issue came up again. I was at a loss as to where to get money to pay for a flat, and my friend was not finding it funny with me still in her bq. Anyway, one day, as I went to God in prayer I got this idea to contract my services to my former boss for the price of the accommodation. I knew this idea was divinely inspired because it made a lot of sense yet it seemed a tad too difficult. My former place of employment, then, was the biggest independent TV station in Nigeria. I joined it because it was an ambitious and promising project, I left because it had too many issues. The people were not paid regularly and as a result they became mercenaries at their jobs, only going for the highest bidder, the equipment was unavailable, etc. He never wanted me to leave, in the first place, and he did a lot to make me stay, but the structure of that place and my standard of living, did not fall in line with my dreams for my first job.

So, this was the situation God advised me to go back and ask for, and I obeyed. The miracles started almost immediately. When I got to the office, I wondered how I was going to go to his office and make my offer. I did not need to worry because he saw me as I came into the premises and opened his window in the penthouse, and asked me if I was running away from him.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

I wish, I wish, I wish

The worst day of my life was probably a few weeks ago. Around mid-February. Due to the bill for my delivery that I had been given by my doctor, 300k (naira) I decided to look for a cheaper and equally as close place to give birth. My doctor had warned me that I would not get it any cheaper than that because of my status, but I decided to try anyway.

I went to the hospital where my friend's sister gave birth because I heard it was only 180k for a CS. I asked for the doctor from the nurses and receptionists in the very crowded hospital, and for some reason it seemed I had committed a sin. There was a lot of whispering and turning to look at me, over and over again. I guess they just did not understand why a heavily-pregnant woman would want to see the main gynaecologist without registering. Anyway, finally they told him,and he came OUT of his office, stood by the stairway, and asked me to hurry up with what I had to say. When I mentioned my status, he immediately asked if it was my HIV status and said he actually did not deliver 'them' in his hospital. 'They have a centre in LUTH, I actually used to send them there until I heard of my colleague who delivers them not far off.' I asked what was so special about delivering HIV + women, and he said a lot of things have to be prepared for the delivery but he never asked his colleague how he does it for 'them'. He then gave me directions to the hospital where 'they' were attended to, and he went back in.

My doctor had told me that it was difficult to get a colleague who could perform the surgery I needed (Caesarean) because HIV+ people were discriminated against among doctors. I thought it was a lie until this happened. He said he brought it up in the meeting they usually have and many of them verbally put him down. They asked why he wasn't sending them to their centre and why he was bothering. some said they never wanted to know their status. Doctors! How will the stigma ever end? And even in the centre which is a great distance away from most places, the way the people are handled is appalling. A queue that goes on for days because there are only a few people to answer to everybody, and I can imagine the kind of insult such people receive.

Anyway, I went to the hospital that attended to 'them', only to find out that the MD was unavailable. I never went back again, though, because the place didn't look too clean or organised.

Telling my mum about my status was quite difficult but it was probably the best decision. However, now she bothers me to go to some pastor we both know, to be prayed for, so I can be healed. I have been going there for weeks now - believe it or not- but suddenly I am tired. Is God not enough? Must I chase miracles? And I am not also comfortable with his mountain of fire type of prayers. In truth, though, I guess I am a bit disappointed because I was prayed for and I went to do a blood test again, and it was still positive. A part of me considers it silly, to ask for healing for an illness that has been said to have no cure, to start looking for miracles in church, like all those 'other people'.But though this illness is not a death sentence, the stress of attending to it, and taking care of yourself is killing, not to mention expensive.

In an unrelated development, my mum will come in a week to see me, before she returns, again, in 3 weeks, for the birth.. I had wanted to see my mum for years in my place in Lagos, I just never knew it woukd be under these circumstances. How she will manage with me in one room in someone else's house is a problem for me. I wonder if the people will show her respect, how she will eat (presently, I mostly make my own food), everything. I feel like a disappointment as a child; now when she should sit back and enjoy the fruit of her labour, she has to attend to an adult child, with no income and no house, who has an incurable disease, and is having a child for a man at large. After all she has gone through for her kids. Honestly, not that I am ungrateful for this place or anything,but, even in this state that I am, if I find a more private place to go to, a place of my own, I will leave without thinking about it. I wonder what I'll do after the birth. How I'll get a house, when there obviously seems to be no in-road here. Already, my friend's 10 year old son walks past me without greeting me, for reasons best known to him.Ordinarily, that would not have even caught my attention, but the mixture of hormones and circumstances make things hurt more than usual.

Still, I thank God. I'm expecting a part payment for a job I did for some people in SA. If that comes I can cover 2/3rds of the hospital bill and still have a little money to buy some baby things. Fingers crossed.

Saturday, February 20, 2010

Today is Sunday but I'm not quite feeling like going to church at all. Is it because I desperately need a miracle to pay for my delivery and buy my baby's things and I cannot get one? Or because I am down to my last 3000 naira and do not expect payment for the freelance job I got which I can't do myself but no longer have the werewithal to send people out to do? Is it because I am tired of the inconvenience and lack of privacy in staying in someone's house? Yes to all. I'm just tired. I want a way out, and death is not out of the question. I feel that if God has time for me it is not now so it's better to just forget it altogether. I don't know...

Monday, February 15, 2010

It's been a while, hasn't it? It turns out that it's when you really need to write that you don't feel like. Anyway, a lot has happened in the last month or so - wow, it's exactly a month-and I hope I can remember it all. (One thing I can say for this pregnancy is that it is definitely eventful, if anything.)

So I moved out of my friend's house into another friend's place. When she kicked me out I tried frantically to get a place around or within that same area, as my hospital where I am registered is in that estate. I tried to raise money through friends by getting 12 friends to each get 1000 naira from 60 friends. The idea was to raise about 700k which was half of the rent required for a 2 bedroom flat I saw, including agent fees and sundry, and to beg the landlady to allow me pay for only one year. Not a few of my friends made promises, appalled that I had to go that far. But suffice it to say that all those plans, and those promises, fell through.

At the same time I plucked up courage to finally tell my father about the pregnancy. The decision was prompted by a discussion I had with my mum concerning the accommodation problem. I mentioned to her that my cousin called me

That Day In History

My friend's elder sister gave birth or was delivered of her baby today, 12th February. A really cute baby that had been in the womb for 41 weeks. I saw when she hurried out of the house in the wee hours of the morning; at about 4:15am. A little part of me envied her, a major part of me was happy for her. I'm just going on 32 weeks and I can't wait for it to be over, not to talk of someone who has been at it for 40 weeks!

When I heard she had given birth I was suddenly struck with the reality of the situation I was/am in. It was made worse by the fact that I have still not bought anything for the baby, nor paid for my hospital bills; not out of a lack of trying to get freelance work or money but for reasons best known to God.

I know there's a lot of info to fill in and I'll do it in subsequent posts. Meanwhile, I need prayers to be able to live up to my responsibility, and take care of my needs.

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Deliver Us From All Evil

Sometimes I dont know if I am coming or going. They say when it rains, it pours but now I see torrential rainfall. A tsunami, not just a change in the weather. I want to beleive that God is still God and that He did not just develop this elaborate plan to get me to take my life, because He could have just done it Himself in my sleep. They say thank God you are alive, and I wonder to myself, is being alive really a good thing. Death will end all, won't it.

Yesterday, my friend who has been putting me up in her house asked me to leave. She said she misses her privacy and did not want a situation where I would give birth in her house. I totally get that. It's not easy to live with someone. But the part that hurts me is that she started complaining about things she said I did and she was angry about. Obviously, she had been chronicling my misdeeds against her and waiting for a time when she would explode.

She said she was the reason why we had never quarreled was because she was tolerating all the stuff I had done to her. (It never occurred to her that I too, might have been tolerating her), she said I would come into the house upset from somewhere else and she would still try to find out what was wrong with me (?!) That I would scold her siblings for coming into the room and disturbing when I was asleep. So many little things that I thought we wee good over or at least she should have mentioned to me! You see the thing is, beyond being my benefactor she was my closest friend! I don't know anything that I did not tell this girl and I had a huge amount of respect for her. So I would expect that if she saw something that upset her she would let me know so that we could trash it out or if she chose to ignore it then she would let it go and not just keep a mental compilation until it became my bibliography! We had been through a lot together, or so I thought so a few misunderstandings should not end our friendship. After she had spoken, I thanked her, apologised for my 'evil' and just kept quiet. Then she offered to give me some money when I was leaving to help me out, and I felt insulted.

Going over the issue today, I began to fit bits and pieces of our past into the big picture. How I did not know she had a violent fight with her ex-husband and had to be rushed to the hospital, had moved out and was staying in a hotel, until weeks after. That day she called her boss, who she claims not to like so much and two of his friends to come to her rescue. But I did not take that as an issue. I also recalled how she has this habit of hiding things that you ordinarily would discuss with your friends, how we were in the same house and she was broke but could not ask me to lend her money, her car papers were expired, she could not renew them, and when the traffic authorities arrested her I would not have known if I hadn't called her that day to just joke around. How when she and her husband were fighting for custody of their child I had to force it out of her, and so on. Maybe I alone had this friendship.

Anyway, God is in control. I have to look for a place to go to now. A tough feat now that I am 7 months pregnant and broke and jobless. I had a few friends offer to give me money but it turns out that the money they have been expecting has failed to come. Meanwhile I have only this week to pay for that house.

When and if all this ever ends, I wonder what I am supposed to learn from it. How not to trust people,? How to keep to myself? What?

Friday, January 8, 2010

Bouncing Off The Walls

Day by day It's more impossible to cope I feel like I'm the one doing dope

( My mind's playin' tricks on me By (I can't remember)

So I called my friend and asked what the issue was and she said she did not want to talk about it yet. But she is still acting funny and we never speak. I'm afraid to do anything or touch anything or talk to anyone because I don't know what the problem is.

In a related development and because of the situation above, I decided something drastic had to be done about the house situation. I mean, it got so that i could not eat until late in the night say about 9 or 10 because did not want to run into her in the kitchen and she gets angry that I am using her utensils or something ( I buy my foodstuff) and that was so unhealthy for the baby, so much so that its movement reduced seriously. anyway, so I came upon this idea to ask my doctor to ask his patients to help one patient of his with a bq or something if they had it. I mean, I figured that if I was going to get a place it would have to be on a charity basis so I had to beg. My doctor misunderstood and gave me the name of an agent. Well, I went along with that idea thinking, what do I have to lose?

On the first day he took me to see a place he described as a mini flat. When I went with a taxi to pick him up he was with another agent - aren't they always- they both got into the car and we drove to the place. at the house they knocked and knocked on the gate for what seemed like ages and no one answered. Then they finally called the house owner who in turn called his lawyer to come to our rescue. So we waited in the taxi, and a noisy, rickety, jalopy pulled up. Out came a thin, weasely man, wearing an ankara caftan, with glasses in his hand. He walked up to the two agents who by now were again at the gate and answered their greeting like he would have preferred not to if not for circumstances. Then he walked up to the house and pressed the bell. (Duh) Finally someone came and began the noises that indicated they were trying to open the gate. The problem was that apart from being locked from inside it was also padlocked from outside!
At this time, I came out of the car and walked up to them. The lawyer made an elaborate turn to pretend like he did not see me so I greeted him. He acknowledged my greeting with all the grace of a monarch and then it seemed the idea struck him. He turned to the two men and asked' who wants the house'. My agent and I answered at the same time that it was me (heeellooooo). He ignored me and asked my agent again' is it her or her husband?'. (At that point in time I was ready to leave because any house that has even a hint of prejudice is not worthy of my presence. I don't want any stress in a place I want to lay my head. ) At this point in time the agent had indicated to the lawyer that I was pregnant so there had to be a husband (LOL) , and the lawyer had launched into this story of how the landlord was a very strict medical doctor who did not want a woman in his house. That he practically had to send the lady who was there previously away, and she was working with Skye bank., blah, blah, blah. By then I was already impatient to leave but my agent kept saying I should calm down and see the place, that the lawyer could speak to the man if I liked it.

Anyway, the person opening the gate had finally figured that there was a lock outside and passed the key. We finally were let into the grounds. A semi-impressive duplex took most of the view in the compound as you entered. To the right beside the house was a parked jeep. The place looked like it had just undergone construction and the workers had cleaned up hurriedly and left. There was bits of construction debris on the floor, and dust everywhere. The miniflat in question seemed to also be beside the main house, but as we walked in, right beside the jeep, we were led to a gate, which led to the mini flat.

Sunday, January 3, 2010

Picking Up The Pieces

Hello Morning
When Does The Fun Begin
Goodbye Morning
Sorry It Had To End
See I cried Just A Little Too Long
Now It's Time For Me To Move On

Dionne Farris: Hopeless, Love Jones Soundtrack