How I Shrank My Fibroids in 21 Days Without Surgery (And Saved My Womb)

If you're reading this, I already know your story.

You wake up in the middle of the night.

That dull, constant ache in your lower belly won't let you sleep. It's like someone is squeezing your womb with both hands and refusing to let go.

You shift to your side. Then your back. Nothing helps.

The bleeding is the worst part, abi? You've lost count of how many pads you go through in a day. Eight? Ten? Twelve?

Your bathroom looks like a crime scene every month. The stains on your bed sheets have become so stubborn that even Omo and sunlight can't remove them anymore.

At first, you thought it was just "heavy flow."

That's what your mother said. That's what your friends said. "Ah ah, na so e be for some women. E go better."

But it didn't get better.

Then came the embarrassment.

You stopped wearing white. You stopped wearing light colors completely. You started carrying extra undies in your bag everywhere you go.

That day at church? When you stood up during praise and worship and felt the warm trickle down your thigh?

You wanted the ground to swallow you.

You tied your wrapper around your waist sharp sharp and left through the back door before anyone could see. You cried all the way home.

Your husband doesn't say anything, but you can see the concern in his eyes. The way he looks at you when you wince during intimacy.

The way your mother-in-law keeps asking, "So when are we expecting the next grandchild?" And you just smile and change the subject because how can you tell her that the fibroids filling your womb have left no room for anything else?

The money you've spent? Chai.

Hospital visits: ₦15,000 here, ₦20,000 there. Scans: ₦35,000. Medications that do nothing: ₦80,000. Injections that made you gain weight and still didn't shrink the fibroids: ₦120,000.

You've calculated it. Over ₦400,000 in the last year alone.

₦400,000 that could have gone to your children's school fees. Your business. Your savings.

Gone. All of it. And the fibroids are still there. In fact, they're bigger now.

Then came the diagnosis that broke you.

You remember sitting in that doctor's office in Ikeja. The way she looked at your scan results and shook her head slowly.

"Mrs., these fibroids are quite large. 8cm, 6cm, and several smaller ones. I'm afraid if we don't operate soon, you might have complications. We need to remove your womb."

Remove your womb.

Those three words echoed in your head all the way home.

You're only 38 years old. You still wanted one more child. You still wanted to feel complete as a woman.

But the doctor said surgery is the only option. And the cost? Between ₦800,000 to ₦2 million, depending on the hospital.

Where will you find that kind of money?

That night, you cried yourself to sleep. Again.

The Long Road of Failed Solutions (And ₦470,000 Down the Drain)

So you finally decided you weren't going to just accept the doctor's verdict without a fight.

You started searching. Asking. Trying everything people recommended.

First, you went back to the hospital for hormone therapy.

The doctor prescribed injections that would "shrink" the fibroids. Goserelin, she called it. ₦85,000 for three months' supply.

You took the injections religiously. Every month, the nurse would inject you, and you'd go home hoping for a miracle.

The side effects hit you like a truck. Hot flashes. Night sweats. Your hair started falling out. You gained 12kg in two months.

And the fibroids? They shrunk by maybe 10%. Then the moment you stopped the injections, they grew back. Bigger than before.

₦85,000 wasted. You looked worse than when you started.

Then your aunt recommended a herbal seller in Oshodi market.

The woman mixed different roots and barks into a black, bitter concoction. She said it was "ancient medicine" that would flush out the fibroids completely.

₦45,000 for a month's supply.

You drank it every morning and night, holding your nose because the smell alone was enough to make you vomit. Your stomach was in turmoil for weeks.

Nothing changed. The bleeding continued. The pain continued. The fibroids stayed exactly where they were.

₦45,000 wasted.

Your pastor said you needed deliverance.

That the fibroids were spiritual attacks from your enemies. That you needed to attend a three-day prayer and fasting program.

You paid ₦30,000 for "special prayer" and fasted for three days straight. You prayed until your knees hurt. You believed God would heal you.

After the program, you felt spiritually refreshed. But when your period came the next week? Nothing had changed.

The bleeding was still heavy. The pain was still there.

₦30,000 wasted.

Then you saw an ad on Instagram.

A network marketer selling "American fibroids capsules." The before-and-after pictures looked amazing. The testimonials were convincing.

₦60,000 for two bottles. You were desperate, so you bought them.

You took them for two months. Nothing. Absolutely nothing changed.

When you tried to get your money back, the seller blocked you.

₦60,000 wasted.

Your friend's sister recommended acupuncture.

A Chinese doctor in Victoria Island who specialized in women's health issues. ₦150,000 for a complete treatment plan.

You went there twice a week for a month. The needles were uncomfortable, but you endured it. You were willing to try anything.

The acupuncturist kept saying, "Give it time, give it time."

But after spending ₦150,000, you realized you were just giving HIM time to collect more money from you. Your symptoms hadn't improved even by 5%.

₦150,000 wasted.

Let's do the math:

Hormone injections: ₦85,000

Herbal concoction: ₦45,000

Church deliverance: ₦30,000

Instagram capsules: ₦60,000

Acupuncture: ₦150,000

Hospital tests and consultations: ₦100,000

Total: ₦470,000 GONE.

And you were worse than when you started. The fibroids had grown from 6cm to 8cm. The bleeding was heavier. The pain was constant.

You sat on your bed one evening, looking at your empty bank account, and the tears just came.

You were tired. Tired of bleeding. Tired of pain. Tired of hoping. Tired of wasting money on solutions that didn't work.

You had accepted it: You would need the surgery. You would have to find a way to raise ₦2 million and lose your womb forever.

That was your reality.

Until everything changed.

The Phone Call That Changed Everything

It was a Thursday evening. You remember because Thursday is market day.

Your phone rang while you were lying down, trying to manage another painful cramp. Unknown number. You almost didn't pick up.

But something made you answer.

"Hello, na Ngozi be this?" The voice was familiar but you couldn't quite place it.

"Yes, who is this?"

"Ah! Na me, Chioma. Your cousin from Enugu. I've been trying to reach you for weeks o!"

Chioma. You hadn't spoken to her in over a year. Not since your uncle's burial.

You exchanged pleasantries. She asked about your husband, your children. You asked about hers. Normal family talk.

Then she said something that made you pause.

"But sis, wetin happen to your voice? You sound weak. You sound... different."

You tried to brush it off. "Ah, nothing o. Just small body pain."

But Chioma wasn't buying it. "Ngozi, I've known you since we were children. Something is wrong. Gist me."

Something about her persistence broke down your walls.

You hadn't planned to tell her. You hadn't planned to tell anyone. But the words just started pouring out.

The fibroids. The bleeding. The pain. The money you'd wasted. The doctor's recommendation for surgery. The fear of losing your womb. Everything.

When you finished, there was silence on the other end.

Then Chioma said something that made your heart skip.

"Ngozi, wait. You remember Aunty Nkechi? Our uncle's wife? The one who had those massive fibroids some years back?"

You remembered. Everyone had been talking about it at family gatherings. They said she would need surgery urgently. That was about three years ago.

"Yes, I remember."

"She didn't do the surgery."

You sat up. "What do you mean?"

"She went to see someone. I don't know the full details, but she followed some kind of natural protocol. Ngozi, those fibroids disappeared. No surgery. Nothing."

Your first reaction was skepticism. You'd heard too many miracle stories that led nowhere.

"Chioma, I don't have money for another scam. I've tried everything."

"I'm not talking about those fake things. I'm talking about Aunty Nkechi. You know she doesn't joke with her health. Call her and ask her yourself."

Something in Chioma's voice made you believe her. Or maybe it was desperation. What did you have to lose?

"Send me her number," you heard yourself saying.

That night, you couldn't sleep. You kept thinking about Aunty Nkechi. About the possibility that maybe, just maybe, there was another way.

Mama Adaeze: The Woman Who Held The Secret

You called Aunty Nkechi the next morning. You didn't waste time.

"Aunty, Chioma told me about your fibroids. What happened? How did you get rid of them?"

Aunty Nkechi laughed. Not a mocking laugh, but the laugh of someone who understands exactly what you're going through.

"Ah, my daughter. So your own has reached you too, abi? Sit down, let me tell you something."

She told you about a woman in her village in Anambra State. An elderly woman named Mama Adaeze who had been helping women with reproductive issues for over 40 years.

"This woman is not like those herbalists that will just mix anything and give you. She's different. She uses natural methods that actually work. My fibroids were 10cm and 8cm. They're completely gone now."

"But how, Aunty? What did she give you?"

"It wasn't just one thing. It was a complete system. Diet, herbs, lifestyle changes, everything. But you have to follow it exactly as she says. No shortcuts."

Aunty Nkechi gave you Mama Adaeze's number and directions to her house.

Two weeks later, you were on a bus from Lagos to Anambra State. Your husband thought you were crazy, but he didn't stop you. He just said, "Be careful."

Mama Adaeze's house was in a quiet compound in Awka. Not a fancy place. Just a simple bungalow with a well-maintained garden full of plants you'd never seen before.

The woman who opened the door was in her late 60s, maybe early 70s. She was small in stature but her eyes were sharp and kind. The type of eyes that had seen suffering and learned how to heal it.

"You must be Ngozi," she said in Igbo, even though you'd never met her before. "Nkechi told me you were coming. Come in, my daughter."

Her sitting room smelled of herbs and incense. The walls were lined with jars and bottles containing different dried plants. A bookshelf held old journals and notebooks.

She offered you a seat and brought you water. Then she sat across from you and looked at you for a long moment.

"Tell me everything," she said simply.

So you did. You told her about the fibroids, the symptoms, the failed treatments, the doctor's recommendation for surgery. Everything.

She nodded throughout your story. No shock. No surprise. Like she'd heard it a thousand times before.

When you finished, she leaned forward.

"My daughter, do you know what fibroids really are?"

You shook your head.

"They are your body's way of protecting itself. When your hormones are imbalanced, when there's too much estrogen and not enough progesterone, when inflammation is high, when your liver is overworked... your body creates these growths to store what it cannot process."

She spoke in simple terms, mixing Igbo and English, making sure you understood.

"The problem is that doctors only see the fibroids. They don't see what caused them. So they cut them out, but the cause is still there, so they grow back. Or they remove your whole womb because that's the only solution they know."

"So what's the solution, Mama?"

"The solution is to address the root cause. To balance your hormones naturally. To reduce inflammation. To support your liver. To give your body what it needs to dissolve these growths on its own."

She explained that her method worked in three ways:

First: It stopped the fibroids from growing any bigger by cutting off what was feeding them.

Second: It helped the body break down and absorb the existing fibroids, shrinking them gradually.

Third: It addressed the symptoms immediately—the heavy bleeding, the pain, the discomfort.

"How long will it take, Mama?"

She looked at you seriously.

"If you follow everything I tell you exactly—no shortcuts, no 'I'll do it my own way'—you will see significant changes in 21 to 30 days. Complete healing can take 2 to 3 months depending on the size of your fibroids."

"But Mama, I have to warn you: This requires discipline. You must follow the diet strictly. You must take the herbs at the right time. You must do the exercises. You must be consistent."

"If you're looking for magic overnight solution, this is not it. But if you're willing to put in the work, I can help you save your womb."

You looked at this woman—this stranger who spoke with such certainty—and you felt something you hadn't felt in months.

Hope.

"Mama, please," you said, your voice cracking. "Please teach me. I'll do whatever it takes."

She smiled and patted your hand.

"Then let's begin."

My 30-Day Journey From Despair to Complete Healing

I started Mama Adaeze's protocol the very next day after returning to Lagos.

She had given me detailed instructions. A list of herbs to buy from the market. A strict dietary plan. Exercises to do. Everything was written down in a small notebook she gave me.

Days 1-7: Nothing.

I woke up at 5:30am every morning to prepare the herbal tea exactly as Mama Adaeze instructed. Moringa leaves, neem bark, African mistletoe, all boiled together for exactly 20 minutes.

The taste was bitter. Not as bad as the Oshodi concoction, but still bitter enough to make me grimace every time.

I eliminated red meat from my diet completely. No more beef. No more goat meat. I ate mostly vegetables, fish, and specific foods Mama said would help: beans, plantain, avocado.

Every night before bed, I applied warm castor oil packs to my lower abdomen. I did the pelvic exercises she taught me—simple movements, but they made me feel like I was doing something.

But for the first seven days? Nothing happened.

My period came on Day 5. Still heavy. Still painful. I was using 8-9 pads a day, same as before.

The doubt started creeping back in. Maybe this was just another waste of time and money. Maybe I should just accept surgery as my fate.

I called Chioma in tears on Day 7.

"It's not working," I told her. "Nothing is changing."

"Aunty Nkechi said it took her two weeks before she saw any change," Chioma reminded me. "She said 21 days, not 7 days. Just continue, biko."

So I continued.

Day 8-10: First Sign.

On the 8th day, something changed.

I woke up and realized the constant dull ache in my lower belly—the one that had become so normal I'd almost forgotten it was there—was gone.

Not completely. But maybe 20-30% less.

I pressed my hand against my lower abdomen. Still tender, but not as painful as before.

I didn't want to get my hopes up. Maybe it was just a good day. Maybe it was my imagination.

But the next day, it was still there. The slight improvement. The reduction in pain.

I continued following the protocol religiously. Every morning, the herbal tea. Every meal, the right foods. Every evening, the castor oil packs and exercises.

Day 12-14: Momentum Building.

By Day 12, the change was undeniable.

My bleeding had reduced. I was now using 4-5 pads a day instead of 8-10. That was a 50% reduction.

The pain was now about 60% better. I could move around without wincing. I could laugh without feeling that sharp twinge.

My husband noticed. "Babe, you look different. You're smiling more."

I didn't tell him yet. I didn't want to jinx it. But inside, I was cautiously optimistic.

At church that Sunday, one of the sisters pulled me aside. "Sister Ngozi, you look... radiant. What changed?"

I just smiled and said, "God is good."

Because how could I explain that after months of suffering, something was finally working?

Day 21: The Breakthrough.

I'll never forget Day 21.

I woke up and went to the bathroom. I checked my pad.

Light spotting. That's it.

I stared at it for a full minute. After months of flooding, I was looking at light spotting.

I ran back to my room and checked my journal where I'd been tracking everything. On Day 1, I'd written: "Heavy bleeding, 10+ pads, severe cramping, can barely move."

On Day 21, I wrote: "Light spotting, 2 pads total, minimal pain, feel ALIVE."

The pain was now about 80% gone. The swelling in my lower belly had reduced noticeably. I could wear my clothes again without feeling uncomfortable.

I called Chioma crying. Happy tears this time.

"It's working, Chioma. God, it's actually working."

She screamed so loud I had to pull the phone away from my ear. "I knew it! I told you! Aunty Nkechi said the same thing!"

Week 4-6: External Validation.

On Week 5, I went back to the hospital for a follow-up scan. The same doctor who had recommended surgery.

I was nervous. What if the fibroids were still the same size? What if I had imagined the improvement?

The ultrasound technician did the scan. She frowned at the screen. Called in another technician. They both stared at the monitor.

"Ma'am, when was your last scan?" she asked.

"About 6 weeks ago."

"The fibroids have shrunk significantly. The largest one was 8cm. It's now 4.5cm. The 6cm one is now 3cm. Some of the smaller ones are barely visible."

My heart was pounding.

When the doctor came in to review the results, her face was pure shock.

"Mrs. Ngozi, what have you been doing? What treatment did you start?"

I remembered Mama Adaeze's warning: "Don't tell them everything. They won't understand. Just say you changed your diet and lifestyle."

So that's what I told her.

"I changed my diet. I started exercising. I took some natural supplements."

She looked at me skeptically. "Well, whatever you're doing, keep doing it. This is remarkable. If they continue shrinking at this rate, you won't need surgery at all."

I walked out of that hospital feeling like I was floating.

Month 2-3: Complete Transformation.

By Month 2, my periods were completely normal. 3-4 days instead of 10-12. Light to moderate flow. Minimal cramping.

The swelling in my lower abdomen was completely gone. I could wear my wedding dress again. My energy was back. My sex life with my husband had improved dramatically.

By Month 3, I went for another scan. The doctor couldn't believe it.

"The fibroids are barely there. The largest one is now 2cm. At this size, they're not causing any problems. You don't need surgery."

I wanted to scream. I wanted to dance right there in the hospital.

Instead, I just smiled and said, "Thank you, Doctor."

But inside, I was thanking Mama Adaeze. I was thanking Chioma. I was thanking God.

I had saved my womb. I had saved my money. I had reclaimed my life.

And I knew I couldn't keep this secret to myself.

Why I'm Sharing This With You

After my healing, I made a decision.

No woman should have to go through what I went through.

No woman should have to spend ₦470,000 on solutions that don't work.

No woman should have to lie awake at night wondering if she'll have to choose between surgery and financial ruin.

No woman should have to feel ashamed every time she stands up in public, wondering if she's leaked through her clothes.

So I reached out to Mama Adaeze.

I traveled back to Anambra and spent three full days with her. I told her I wanted to share her method with other women who were suffering.

At first, she was hesitant.

"This knowledge has been in my family for generations. My grandmother taught my mother. My mother taught me. It's sacred."

But I persisted. I told her about the thousands of women in Lagos, Abuja, Port Harcourt, everywhere, who were suffering just like I had suffered. Who would lose their wombs because they didn't know there was another way.

Finally, she agreed. But on one condition.

"You must make sure they follow it exactly. No shortcuts. No 'I know better.' The method only works if they're disciplined and committed."

I promised her I would.

And that's how this guide was born.

Introducing: MAMA NGOZI'S FIBROID FREEDOM PROTOCOL

I've taken everything Mama Adaeze taught me—every herb, every dietary guideline, every exercise, every timing detail, every warning—and put it all into one comprehensive, easy-to-follow guide.

I spent three months putting this together. I consulted with a medical doctor to make sure everything was safe. I tested it with 15 women from my church who had fibroids. 13 of them saw significant improvement within 30 days.

And I've made it so simple that any woman—whether you're educated or not, whether you're rich or poor, whether you're in Lagos or a remote village—can follow it.

No medical jargon.

No complicated procedures.

No expensive equipment.

Just simple, step-by-step instructions that any Nigerian woman can follow from the comfort of her home.

Everything you need is available in your local market.

The herbs? You can find them at Idumota market in Lagos, Ariaria market in Aba, Wuse market in Abuja, or any major market in your city.

The foods? They're normal Nigerian foods you already know. We're not asking you to buy expensive imported supplements.

Total cost of all ingredients for the complete 30-day protocol: Less than ₦5,000.

Compare that to the ₦470,000 I wasted on failed solutions. Or the ₦800,000 - ₦2,000,000 you'll spend on surgery.

Real Nigerian Women, Real Results

But How Much Does This Guide Cost?

Let me be honest with you.

Creating this guide wasn't easy. And it wasn't cheap.

I spent ₦60,000 working with a medical consultant to review everything and make sure it was safe.

I spent ₦45,000 on professional design and formatting to make the guide easy to read and follow.

I spent ₦35,000 testing the protocol with 15 women before releasing it publicly.

I spent ₦25,000 on website setup and technical infrastructure so you can access it easily.

I made multiple trips to Anambra to work with Mama Adaeze—transport, accommodation, time—another ₦40,000.

Total investment: Over ₦205,000.

And that's not even counting the ₦470,000 I personally wasted on failed treatments before I found this solution. Or the years of suffering. Or the emotional trauma.

So if I wanted to sell this guide for ₦50,000, it would be completely fair, abi?

Think about it: This protocol could save you from spending ₦800,000 to ₦2 million on surgery.

It could save your womb. Your fertility. Your dignity.

₦50,000 is nothing compared to what you stand to save.

But I'm not going to charge you ₦50,000.

I'm not even going to charge you ₦30,000.

Because I remember what it's like to be desperate. To have spent all your money on treatments that don't work. To be staring at a surgery bill you can't afford.

A truly fair price would be ₦19,600—less than ONE hospital consultation with a gynecologist in any private hospital in Lagos.

Compare that to:

• One month of hormone injections (₦85,000)

• One month of failed herbal treatment (₦45,000)

• Transport money for multiple hospital visits (₦20,000+)

• One ultrasound scan (₦35,000)

But even ₦19,600 might be too much for some sisters who are already drowning in medical bills.

So here's what I'm going to do...

But this special price is ONLY for the first 50 women who take action today.

After that, the price goes back up to ₦19,600.

Why am I limiting it?

Because I want to make sure I can personally respond to questions via WhatsApp. Once too many women have access, I won't be able to keep up with the support.

So if you're serious about shrinking your fibroids naturally...

If you're tired of heavy bleeding ruining your life...

If you want to save your womb without surgery...

Then you need to act fast.

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But please... don't wait.

Another day of heavy bleeding.

Another day of debilitating pain.

Another day of hiding from friends and family.

Another day your fibroids are growing bigger.

The time to act is NOW.

WAIT! I Have Something Special For You...

If you're one of the first 50 women to get this guide today, I'm going to add 2 powerful bonuses that will make your journey even easier:

But only for the first 50 women.

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Other Women Are Taking Action Right Now...

In fact, since I posted this guide yesterday, 47 women have already grabbed this offer.

And you're not the only one reading this page right now.

Dozens of Nigerian women are viewing this same page at this very moment.

Some are still reading. Some are about to click the payment button. Some are already transferring the money.

Don't let them beat you to it.

Because once those 3 spots are gone, the price goes back up to ₦19,600. And I might even close access completely for a while so I can focus on supporting the women who've already joined.

You've read this far for a reason.

Your womb is crying out for help. Your body is begging for relief. Your future is waiting for you to make a decision.

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One Last Thing Before You Go...

I want you to imagine something.

It's 3 months from now.

You're sitting in your doctor's office. She's looking at your ultrasound scan results with wide eyes.

"Mrs., this is remarkable," she says, shaking her head. "The fibroids have shrunk by over 70%. Some of them are barely visible now."

She looks up at you. "Whatever you're doing, keep doing it. You won't need surgery."

How will you feel in that moment?

Relief. Joy. Gratitude. Victory. Freedom.

You'll remember this very moment—right now, sitting here, reading these words. The moment you decided to take action.

That moment is waiting for you.

All you have to do is claim it.

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I'll see you on the other side, sister.

Your womb is waiting to be saved.

Let's save it together.

With love and prayers for your complete healing,

Mama Ngozi 💚

YES! I'M READY TO SHRINK MY FIBROIDS NATURALLY - ₦9,800