How Lagos hospital rejected my pregnant wife, mortuary refused her corpse – Grieving husband

A farmer, Akinbobola Folajimi, shares his painful experience with The Punch Newspaper about how a hospital in Lagos refused to attend to his pregnant wife, who was in critical condition, because he could not immediately pay a deposit of N500,00

Where are you from?

I grew up in Lagos and currently live in Lakowe, but I’m originally from Ondo State. My wife was from Ife. I am a graduate of Rufus Giwa Polytechnic, where I studied Accounting.

What do you do for a living?

I’m an artist, but since the music industry hasn’t been favourable, I had to find another way. Right now, I’m a farmer. I do animal husbandry; I rear goats, turkeys, chickens, and rabbits, among others. I also do other jobs, like fashion arts.

My wife was a teacher, a very brilliant one. She taught at a school and also offered private home lessons. In addition, she ran a small-scale business, selling fabrics such as Ankara, etc.

How old was she?

She was 31 years old, while I am in my early 40s.

Can you describe the kind of person your wife was?

She was quiet, intelligent, and content with what she had. She never compared herself to others; she was just herself. She was very considerate and supportive. We had been together for 10 years, and even when I had nothing, she stood by me. She was truly a wonderful person.

How many children did she leave behind?

We had two beautiful daughters. Our first was born over eight years ago, and our second, six years ago. After our second daughter, we made a firm decision not to have another child. The economy was tough, and we wanted to give our two girls the best life we could. It was a decision we both agreed on; two children were enough. Then, unexpectedly, she got pregnant again.

What really led to her death?

We were preparing for our joy – our baby boy was coming. Everything was in place, and we had made all the necessary arrangements. She told me about a midwife close to our house, just in case labour started at night. We didn’t have a car, and the hospital was quite far. It seemed like a good plan.

I knew the midwife. I had heard many testimonies about her. In fact, our second daughter was delivered by her, and countless women had successfully given birth under her care. She would go long distances for medical check-ups, scans, and antenatal care. She was meticulous about her health.

Up until the 20th of February 2025, she was perfectly fine. My wife was not sick; she had no underlying health conditions. She was strong, glowing, and full of life.

We had bought the baby’s clothes and prepared everything for his arrival. She took her medications faithfully and exercised when needed. Sometimes, we did it together. She never missed her antenatal appointments. There were no warning signs.

The night before, she told me, “I’m going to have this baby tomorrow.” I laughed and asked, “How do you know?” She smiled and said, “Don’t worry.” I didn’t argue. I am not a woman; I didn’t know how these things worked.

But one thing was sure: I was always present. Every time she was pregnant, I made sure I was never far from home. I was there when our first daughter was born. I was there for our second, and for this one, I had no reason to believe it would be any different.

But that morning, when I woke up, she had gone to the midwife’s place. She didn’t wake me; she had cleaned the house, fetched water from the well, and made sure everything was in order.

I thought she was just keeping herself active, preparing for the big day. When I asked our daughters where their mother had gone, they told me she had left for the midwife’s place.

What happened when you got to the midwife’s place?

When I arrived at the midwife’s place, I immediately noticed that my wife was already in labour. At first, it seemed like our usual experience, nothing out of the ordinary. As expected, they sent me to get a few things, even though we had already bought everything in advance.

But then, something felt different. It was taking too long. An hour had passed, and she was still struggling. From my past experiences, I knew that once labour started, the baby usually followed within 20 to 30 minutes. But this time, the minutes stretched endlessly.

I started feeling uneasy. At first, I told myself, “Maybe it’s because this one is a boy.” But as time went on, my worry deepened. I watched my wife fight through each contraction, her strength fading with every push. She looked exhausted – too exhausted.

I turned to the midwife. “Mama, what is going on?” I asked, my voice laced with fear. I could see the stress on my wife’s face, the pain in her eyes. This wasn’t like before. When I asked her how she was feeling, her response was weak, almost lifeless. My heart pounded.

I couldn’t take it anymore. “We need to go to the hospital,” I said urgently. Thankfully, our neighbour had a car, and we rushed her to the nearest hospital. Even in the car, she was still speaking, still holding on. But I could see she was slipping.

I made up my mind. I didn’t care what it would take – even if she needed a C-section – we had to do whatever was necessary to save her and the baby.

What transpired at the hospital?

When we arrived at the hospital, the doctors checked her and then turned to me, saying that we needed to deposit N500,000 before they could proceed.

My heart dropped. I told them I didn’t have N500,000 at the moment, but I promised them – I swore – I would raise it before the end of the day. I had some money in my account, about N80,000.

I had a small farm at home with goats, rabbits, chickens, and turkeys. I was ready to sell everything. I even thought of calling my family and hers if the money wouldn’t be enough after selling the animals. But the hospital didn’t listen.

They refused. Unmoved, they said they wouldn’t touch her without that N500,000. I pleaded, I cried, I begged them to start treatment while I found the money, but they shook their heads.

Then I asked them, ‘Where else can we go?’ One of the doctors mentioned a hospital in Epe. My stomach twisted. Lakowe to Epe is at least a 40-minute drive, if not more, and time was running out.

We live near Lakowe School Gate, so he told me to start heading to Epe. The moment my wife heard ‘Epe’, I could hear the disappointment in her voice. Weak and in pain, she said it was too far. She kept telling me this, and I kept telling the doctors, but they wouldn’t listen.

I begged and pleaded, but they refused to reconsider. I started feeling like I had wasted too much time trying to convince them. They weren’t going to listen. They were already pushing her out of the wheelchair, forcing us out of the ward.

We put her back in the car and sped off toward Epe. I was terrified because the driver was going too fast – too fast. He was trying to get us there in time, but his speed could have caused another disaster entirely.

I was scared for our lives. A friend of mine was with us, along with the driver, my wife, and me – four of us in total. Somewhere around Eleko, we ran into traffic. We saw traffic wardens, police officers, and VIO officials.

I screamed at the top of my voice to get their attention. They came over and immediately saw her condition. I explained everything to them, and they said, ‘You can’t go all the way to Epe like this.’

What did the police officers and the VIOs do afterwards?

They cleared the road for us and even assigned a bike escort to lead us to a nearby hospital at Eleko. Unfortunately, before we got there, everything changed in an instant. My wife was gone.

I noticed her breathing had changed. I tried to open her mouth to give her air, performed mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, pumped her chest, and did everything I could in that car. But it was too late. My wife died in that terrible condition on the 21st of February, around 11 in the morning.

How did you feel the moment you realised she had passed while you were both in the car?

There are no words to explain it. My entire world crumbled instantly. As her breathing stopped, she passed right on my shoulder. I rushed to the hospital to confirm if she was dead, but I found it hard to believe because she wasn’t sick the night before. She wasn’t ill that same morning.

What happened at the mortuary?

When we arrived at the mortuary, we wanted to hand over her body, but they refused to take it from me. They said we needed a note from the police station. By this time, it was already late at night.

Before heading to the mortuary, we had already visited several police stations, but the officers told us that no such note was required since she was a pregnant woman, and her husband and sister were present. They advised us to take her directly to the mortuary.

We explained this to the mortuary staff, but they insisted we get a police report. I had to stay with her body throughout the night until 4 am. They locked us outside the mortuary, and I sat in the car with my wife’s body, still staring at her, unable to accept that she was truly gone.

At around 4 am, I decided to go to a nearby police station and spoke with the DPO. He accompanied me back to the mortuary and gave them the order to accept her body.

What did the mortuary attendant say after receiving the directive from the DPO?

They started giving us charges. They said they had to remove the baby from her body, which would cost N150,000. Then we had to buy burial clothes for another N20,000. Before we knew it, we had spent nearly N500,000 at the mortuary.

Ironically, this was the same N500,000 that the hospital couldn’t wait for me to raise. In the end, we managed to raise it – just to settle everything at the mortuary.

How are your two daughters coping?

At their age, they already understand that their mother is no longer around. I had to tell them on the third day because they were already asking many questions that I couldn’t answer.

I felt that if I kept lying to them, they would eventually find out, and it wouldn’t be right for them to hear the truth from someone else. So, I called my family from Ibadan, and they came to Lagos to be with us for the night. That night, I told my daughters the truth about what happened. It was a heartbreaking moment. For a moment, I almost regretted telling them. But in the end, we managed to get through it together.

How have you been coping since she passed?

Emotionally and psychologically, I’m not balanced. I lost my wife over N500,000. To be honest, even now, I still hear her phone ringing in my ears, even when it’s not ringing.

So many things have been happening to me. It’s been a month now, but it still feels like yesterday. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m losing my mind because she was everything I had. We ate together, slept together, and did everything together.

I was never away from her for even a week. We were extremely close; our bond was deep.

If the private hospital had attended to her immediately, do you believe she would still be alive today?

Yes, she would still be alive. The baby would be alive too. At worst, she would have undergone a C-section.

Have you received any explanation or apology from the hospital regarding the incident?

No. I’ve noticed that many people are trying to change the narrative on social media. I’m not here to drag the hospital, but I need to share what happened.

What do you think needs to change in the healthcare system to prevent such tragedies from happening to other families?

Two things come to mind when I think about why they rejected us: either they weren’t equipped to handle the situation, or they cared more about money than human lives.

If they were truly equipped, the worst that would have happened was that they’d keep my wife and baby in the hospital while I found the money. I would have done everything possible to get it.

She was still conscious at the hospital. She even signalled to me and said, “The baby is still fine.” She was weak but still communicating. If they had attended to her immediately, she could have been saved.

I think the government should ensure that hospitals are properly equipped, and any hospital that isn’t should not be allowed to operate. There should also be a law that mandates all hospitals, private or public, to attend to emergencies.

Do you also think the economic situation played a role in your wife’s death?

Yes, definitely. If the economy were better, raising N500,000 wouldn’t have been so difficult. The struggle we went through to get that money was unimaginable. Despite working day and night, I couldn’t even boast of having N200,000 in my account.

We were just surviving – earning, paying bills, and moving on. There was no money to save. So, as much as I was working hard and trying my best, I still couldn’t raise N200,000, let alone N500,000.

It’s devastating that someone who works hard every day in Nigeria can’t afford N500,000 at the time of death. The economy played a role in the death of my wife and baby.