Hello ladies, if you’re an expectant mum or you have an infant aged 0 – 3 months, and you’d like to know more about breastfeeding and the support available to you, then take note of this event happening tomorrow.
In the meantime, you could also read a number of informative and interesting stories I’ve written on Kenyan mom’s breastfeeding experienceshere.
Mummy Talesis a blog dedicated to empowering its readers on different aspects of maternal and newborn health, as well as various issues surrounding motherhood and women. Read more motherhood experiences of Kenyan momshere. Follow Mummy Tales on:FACEBOOK l INSTAGRAM l TWITTER
So, it’s been two weeks now since I subscribed to Showmax. It had been a long time coming… I’d heard of the good shows on the Showmax line-up, and I knew it was only a matter of time before we got it too. Well, finally, here we are*.
Showmax, by the way, is an internet TV service that allows you to watch plenty of series, movies and kids’ shows from any device as long as you have an internet connection.
What we’ve been doing over the last two weeks with my boys is watching different shows together. I’ll give you a list of the shows that my boys have come to love, and will tell you why they enjoy them.
The Mighty Jungle is a live action puppet series for preschoolers, which captures the hopes, fears, frustrations and joys of children while exploring how preschoolers play and overcome obstacles both physical and emotional.
By the way, when I first saw what Showmax offered, I was so blown away by the list of kids’ shows (that’s where I first checked). As I perused them, some were familiar and others not, but I was so jazzed, knowing just how excited my kids would be.
The first thing I did was select the shows that are age-appropriate for my boys (they are 4 and 6 years old). The good thing is that Showmax gives this guidance for each show, so you don’t have to struggle with trying to figure that out.
I found some of the popular shows they’ve watched before and which they love – Diego, Dora, Paw Patrol, Peppa Pig, Bubble Guppies, Timmy Time, Shaun the Sheep, the Hero of Colour City and Teletubbies. Then there were the ones that they’d never watched before such as Super Why, Wonder Pets, Topsy & Tim, Humf, Space Racers, Ready Jet Go, Dinosaur Train, Leap Frog Specials and Ben & Holly’s Little Kingdom.
A much-loved show by many kids, starring Tinky Winky, Dipsy, Laa-Laa and Po. Photo: @teletubbies
We watch the shows together after their dinner, before they retire to bed. For this time, I select the shows with short episodes – the ones that run for 10 minutes or less. Over the weekends where we have much more time, I let them watch the longer ones. One outstanding thing that I love about the shows on Showmax is that there are no ad interruptions -it’s just smooth viewing 🙂
So, about the shows they’ve been loving. I noticed they have a fondness for superhero characters, because of how they get to help those in distress.
They also love the shows that are interspersed with fun songs that they can sing along to, as well as those that have interactive elements about them. For example, where a question is asked and there’s a few seconds of silence that allows them to respond (such as which shape is this, name the colour, which alphabet letter comes next, can you spot the missing animal, etc). You should see them excitedly yelling out the answers 🙂
So here are the shows that my boys have been loving on Showmax:
Wonder Pets
The first time the boys watched this show, they mastered the theme song (“Teamwork!”) immediately and kept singing it around the house. The show is about three cute little pets that are always on a mission to save a fellow animal in trouble. They seamlessly work together while incorporating some humour as they go about their rescue missions. The essence of acts of kindness displayed by the Wonder Pets helping those in need, and the value of, yes, teamwork, are great lessons that the show passes on. Plus, the songs in the episodes are so nice and my boys love singing along!
Super Why
This is a favourite show for the kids because it always revolves around solving a problem through characters found in a story book. As they do so, the characters encourage the children to spell words, create words, rhyme words, identify letters in the alphabet and, of course, sing along to the fun tunes. My younger son is learning the alphabet, so this is such a great show for him, and he’s always assisted by his older brother.
Dinosaur Train
For some reason, my sons love dinosaurs and I don’t know why. So, automatically, they love Dinosaur Train, which is about dinosaurs riding on a special train, and along their journey, they get to learn different things about dinosaurs, the environment they live in, scientific life and facts – which are easy to understand for young kids. The show also has lots of cool songs that the kids can sing along to. Believe me, for an educational scientific show that even kids can understand – this one is good.
Diego
Oh my! Believe me, we can never have enough of Diego in our house. Diego is just that hero that the boys love so much, what with him going out on adventures to rescue animals in need. This he does with the help of gadgets, his friends – and my boys too!
Other shows that we’ve watched one or two episodes of are: Leap Frog Specials, Little People and Humf. There’s a whole load of other shows that we’ve not even started watching, but we certainly will in coming weeks. Especially now that the holidays are coming, the entertaining yet educational shows on Showmax will be a good way to keep them busy during their regulated screen time (I do the regulation ☺ ).The kids’ shows that we’ve been watching on Showmax are all that and more, and if you too want to enjoy some, click on this link and sign up for a FREE 14-day trial and check it out for yourself. Let me know which shows your kids enjoy ☺ !
In the meantime, as for me, I’ve been watching the series ‘The Good Wife’ which for a long time I’d been wanting to watch but I’d never gotten around to it. I’m now in season 3, and Showmax has till season 7. There are plenty of other series too that I’m sure you’d like 🙂 . I’ve heard that Jane the Virgin is good, Suits, and even the Game of Thrones that everyone talks about is there.
Over a cup of coffee, I recently met 24 year-old Catherine Njoki. Catherine survived preeclampsia –a pregnancy-related complication that can be fatal. I have shared other women’s experiences with preeclampsia before, which you can catch up with here. I’m sure over the last few months, you’ve learned about moms who have lost their lives, or lost their babies -or both have died, due to pregnancy-related conditions. Preeclampsia is one such cause, and here at Mummy Tales, we will continue doing our best to increase awareness about it. So today, I bring you Catherine’s story, which she narrated to me.
“When I found out I was pregnant in November 2015, it was a welcome surprise. I was working and in a stable relationship, and I felt ready to take up the responsibility that lay ahead.
I started my antenatal clinics at eight weeks. I was so excited about the pregnancy and I was even more thrilled to discover that my baby’s due date was on my birthday. What double blessings!
At five months pregnant, I resigned from my job as I felt I needed to prepare for my baby as well as focus on myself. I was enjoying my pregnancy and I loved feeling the baby’s kicks and shopping for clothes, shawls, blankets, socks and such items. With more time on my hands, I took time to shop around for a hospital where I would deliver.
Swollen Wrists and Feet
The first alarm was when one day, during a regular ANC visit, the doctor told me that my urine levels appeared ‘unusual’, before putting me on medication. He never really explained to me what the problem was, but with the medication, I knew I was sorted.
Not too long after, I noticed that my wrists were swollen, and so were my feet. Concerned, I asked people around me about it, but they told me that swelling in pregnancy was normal, no big deal. I felt reassured.
One night though, I remember experiencing trouble trying to sleep because of a sharp pain I would feel in my chest with each breath I took. That day had been a busy one for me, spent running errands, so I assumed it was fatigue. But the pain was so bad, I couldn’t sleep. I kept tossing and turning but it wouldn’t subside. I was living with my sister, but I didn’t want to wake her up and alarm her because I thought that it was something I could handle. I decided to take a shower in the hope that I would feel more refreshed. But that didn’t work. The following morning at 6am sharp, I was at the neighborhood clinic. I just wanted them to give me painkillers.
Catherine enjoyed her pregnancy.
Sudden Weight Gain
At the clinic, the first thing that the nurse did was check my weight. But her reaction made me know things were bad.
“You were here only two days ago. Your weight then was 66kg but now you are at 80kg!” she exclaimed. I could see the confused look on her face. I didn’t even know I had added that much weight!
Next, she took my blood pressure. She didn’t even say a word when she saw the reading, but instead rushed to the doctor’s office. The doctor came and I remember him checking my pressure and swallowing a huge chunk of saliva before asking me: “How did you get here?”
I told him I had come all by myself, in a matatu. By that time, my chest was on fire and I kept begging him for painkillers. All I remember him saying was that I needed to be admitted immediately. He then gave me some medication and I was taken to the ward.
I was 31 weeks pregnant at that time.
Confused by the turn of events, I called my boyfriend and my parents and updated them. I then slept, the chest pain having subsided. When I woke up, I found my family by my bedside. All remained well, until after I ate my evening meal, when I started feeling dizzy and vomited. The pain in my chest came back 10 times worse than before. I was running out of breath, in between frantic screams. I remember the environment suddenly turning chaotic with nurses running in and out of my room, taking my blood pressure, all the while my mom trying to calm me down.
Time to Deliver the Baby
No sooner, the doctor announced that I had to undergo a caesarean section immediately. I scoffed at him. I mean, how? Just yesterday I had been happy, shopping for my baby, and now he was telling me that I needed to deliver? I was only 31 weeks pregnant for crying out loud! My baby was nowhere near due!
Besides, I was terrified of surgery, so I protested, telling the doctor I wasn’t ready. I also wanted to go to a much bigger hospital as I could not imagine giving birth in a small neighborhood hospital. Furthermore, my boyfriend, a medical doctor, hadn’t arrived and I really wanted him there with me.
I tried using all manner of delay tactics but at some point, the doctor firmly said that I if I insisted on not having the caesarean section done there and then, I would have to sign a statement absolving the hospital of any blame. My mother then knocked sense into me and told me that I was going to die if I didn’t listen to the doctor. Seeing her harshness about it terrified me and I immediately agreed to the surgery. And by God’s grace, just as I was being wheeled into theatre, my boyfriend arrived…
I was having a conversation with some moms the other day and at some point, we got talking about bullying.
One of the moms talked of how she discovered her son was bullied. Apparently, whenever he would get back home from school, he would literally fly out of the car and make a mad dash for the bathroom. While there, she would hear him release a bucketful of pee. It’s as though he had been storing his pee all day long.
Which was actually the case.
Turns out that her son would avoid going to the bathroom while in school because that’s where he would be bullied by two notorious boys. Every time he would go to relieve himself in the toilet, the two boys would follow him there and torment him. You see, as with most toilets, there is only one entry and one exit, so he had basically nowhere to run once inside. So, to avoid going to the toilet –and consequently avoid being harassed by the two boys, her son would hold in his pee all day long until he got home in the evening. An act which by the way, could have caused the boy serious health issues. Imagine that. And the more I’ve been asking around about bullying, the more I’ve been hearing that a lot of bullying goes on inside boys’ toilets. Hmm.
Another mom also shared how her niece, aged 13 years, one time learnt of rumors circulating about her in the school. Mean, hurtful words –mainly about her body. The girl had already developed breasts, expanded hips, started her menses and was battling acne. The rumors had been started by a clique of girls in her class. When she learnt about what they were saying, the girl completely refused to go to school, demanding that she be transferred to another one. She was too humiliated to return.
These two incidents are not isolated, for we’ve all heard about bullying incidents among children (and even among adults too). Which makes me ask: as parents with young children, how much are we aware about bullying incidents at school? As parents who would do anything for our children, is it possible for us to fully protect them from being bullied? Also, how would you tell if your child were being bullied –especially if they didn’t tell you? And what would you do if you found out your child was being bullied? In this social media era by the way, do you know that children are also bullied -a lot? It’s called cyber bullying.
Then, if your child comes up to you and asks: “What Can I Do If I’m Being Bullied?” what would you tell them? You can check some of these responses, which include telling your child to maintain his cool and not get angry, that they should tell someone about the incident, and that they should try document the incidents of bullying. The pieces of advice are shared by the Cartoon Network’s “Be a Buddy, Not a Bully” Campaign.
An example of a youngster who knows all too well what bullying feels like is Ntando Mahlangu, a Paralympic medalist, was bullied in school. Due to his physical handicap, Ntando says that the kids around him never stopped making it clear that he was ‘different’ from them. Ntando was thankfully, able to rise above the unfortunate incidents, enough to become an athlete of great repute.
Today, Ntando is the brand ambassador for the “Be a Buddy, Not a Bully Campaign” by the Cartoon Network -the leading children’s television channel, and which is available across Africa. The campaign aims to raise awareness around bullying, and let African children know that they are capable of being be confident enough to take action against any form of bullying. Cartoon Network has teamed up with ChildLine in Kenya to promote this campaign.
Today, you can have a conversation with your child about bullying. I’ve shared a couple of videos in this blog post -watch them together with your kids. Ask them what they know about bullying, and if it’s ever happened to them. Ask them how they felt and what they did about it. Also ask if they know of a friend who is being bullied, and how they feel about it. You’ll be surprised at the insights they’ll give you.
You can also follow the conversations via: @CNAfrica, #CNBuddyNetwork, #ChildLineKenya and the campaign’s official website.
Mummy Talesis a blog dedicated to empowering its readers on different aspects of maternal and newborn health, as well as various issues surrounding motherhood and women. Read more motherhood experiences of Kenyan momshere. Follow Mummy Tales on:FACEBOOK l INSTAGRAM l TWITTER
“Growing up, I knew kids who had a hard time in school. I was one of those children. We were singled out for the way we looked, the way we spoke, the way we acted. I know how it feels like to be different, misunderstood, and alone. I was hurt, I was angry.”
Those are the words of Ntando Mahlangu, who knows all too well what bullying is like. Ntando was bullied because he was different. He was laughed at, he was teased, and he was aware of people talking behind his back…there’s nothing he hasn’t endured that pertains to being bullied. He has seen it all. However, Ntando says that speaking to family and friends helped him get through the tough moments. The support made him a better person, and a better athlete. Today, 15-year-old Ntando is a Paralympic medalist.
Now, I know of so many people who can relate to Ntando’s experience; people who were bullied as kids. Today, they might hilariously narrate those stories, but then –when they were kids -it wasn’t funny. And by the way, these are the people who can tell their stories because they likely have overcome the challenges that resulted from bullying.
Truth is, bullying affects people differently. Many people live with the indelible scars of their traumatic episodes. Even in their adulthood, they still suffer emotional meltdowns whenever they remember their bullying episodes. Thankfully though, they are alive. I’m sure you’ve heard of cases of children, teens and even adults committing suicide as a result of bullying. In fact, in this social media age, the cases of teens taking their own lives after being teased and trolled online are on the rise, sadly.
Now me, as a parent of two school-going children, I must admit that I’ve started paying more interest to this issue of bullying. My sons are aged 4 years and 6 years, and I keep asking myself: what would I do if one of them told me they’re being bullied? How would I react? Would I be so angered that I would want to find the offending child and pull their ears? Or would I immediately address the issue with their teacher, if the incident were happening in school? Or, would I seek out the mother of the bullying child, fuming, smoke billowing through my ears and give her a piece of my mind? It’s a very scary thought because honestly, I don’t want to think that anybody could ever bully my adorable boys. But yet, I do know that bullying can happen to anyone.
Then again I also wonder –would I ever know if any of my sons were being bullied? How would I be able to tell in case they didn’t tell me? How would I be able to assist them?
Then I also ask myself the question that many parents like running away from: what if it were my sons who were bullies? Because, aren’t bullying children being raised by someone? What if that someone was me? Gasp! What if I’m the mother who would be sought out by another mom, fuming, smoke billowing through her ears, as she gave me a piece of her mind? It’s a very scary thought, because I don’t want to think that my adorable boys could ever be bullies.
So now, question is –how are we raising our children to not be bullies? To treat their peers with respect, and not look down on other children, especially those who may be ‘different’ from them? To avoid saying hurtful things to them or treating them badly? How are we raising our adorable children to speak out against bullying? To speak up when they are being bullied?
Going back to Ntando, because he was ‘different’, he faced numerous bullying episodes, but he did something out of it. Instead of wallowing in misery, he focused on his strengths and with the support of those around him, he emerged victorious. In fact, Ntando is today the brand ambassador for Cartoon Network, the leading children’s television channel, and available across Africa, in the ‘Be a Buddy Campaign’ which encourages children and young people to ‘Be a Buddy, Not a Bully’. The campaign aims to raise awareness around bullying, and let African children know that they are capable of being be confident enough to take action against any form of bullying. Cartoon Network has teamed up with ChildLine in Kenya to promote this campaign. Watch Ntando, from South Africa, share his story in the video below.
Moral of the story is that we need to help our children stand up to bullies, as well as teach them not to become perpetrators of the vice. One of the ways we can do so is by helping our children ‘be buddies, and not bullies’ as shared by Ntando. You can learn more about the ‘Be a Buddy, Not a Bully’ campaign here. Mummy Tales is supporting efforts to create awareness about this campaign.
You can also, together with your children, watch the video below of Ntando answering questions about bullying. It can be a good avenue to bring up a discussion on the issue of bullying with your child.
You can also follow the conversations via: @CNAfrica, #CNBuddyNetwork, #ChildLineKenya and the campaign’s official website.
Mummy Talesis a blog dedicated to empowering its readers on different aspects of maternal and newborn health, as well as various issues surrounding motherhood and women. Read more motherhood experiences of Kenyan momshere. Follow MummyTales on:FACEBOOK l INSTAGRAM l TWITTER
This is Part Two of Millicent Makina’s experience with hyperemesis gravidarum (HG), which is severe nausea and vomiting in pregnancy. You can catch up with Part One of her story here. Millicent continues with her narration…
“Before I talk about my hospital stay, let me first just highlight the dynamics of vomiting violently while heavily pregnant. You lose bladder control. As if the madness you’re going through is not enough, now you have to deal with peeing on yourself as if you’re a toddler. I peed on myself so many times it became my new normal. At some point, I figured that if I rushed to the bathroom and peed before the vomit came out, I could potentially avoid that embarrassing situation. But the vomit wasn’t always so kind as to wait for me to get to the bathroom and my reaction time got slower as the belly got bigger and fatigue took over. So I just resorted to carrying a change of clothing. It was very embarrassing especially in the office and sometimes I would just walk out and go home. I felt so out of control.
Now, my hospital stay was less than pleasing. It took a while to know which doctor was treating me as so many were trooping in at a time, each with nurses in tow. Each doctor would ask me what the problem was and after explaining to them, they would smile cynically then tell me that what I was going through was normal. That it was just morning sickness which would go away when my pregnancy reached three months, never mind that I was four months pregnant at the time.
One particularly annoying doctor went further to tell me that quite frankly, he didn’t understand what I was doing at the hospital and if it were up to him, he would send me back home. To say I was angry is an understatement. Did this doctor think that I was just bored in my house and I decided to check myself in at the nearest hospital just for fun? I sent for the doctor treating me – the only one who seemed to understand my condition – but he was nowhere to be found. I was so mad, I decided that I was going to discharge myself from hospital. If I was going to die, then I preferred to die in my house. I was through with the pregnancy and with everybody treating me like I was pretending or being a sissy. I had reached my breaking point.
My husband and the wonderful nurses at the hospital who I must say had been very kind to me calmed me down and convinced me to at least wait for the doctor. When he finally came the next day and found me dragging myself around the room because I still did not have the strength to walk on my own, he asked me why I was insisting on going home when it was clear that I was not strong enough to be discharged from the hospital. In tears, I told him that I had had enough. I had no more fight left in me and was ready to go home, whatever the consequences.
At that point, I had become convinced that this baby, or me, or both of us… were not going to make it and I had made peace with that eventuality. Truth is, for my entire pregnancy, I avoided feeling too attached to the baby and didn’t even want to bother myself getting too excited about the baby’s sex or taking a baby bump photo shoot so that it wouldn’t hurt too much when I eventually lost the baby. I feel bad, remembering that I did not even buy a single thing for that baby until I reached 36 weeks. I did not even look at baby stuff. No window shopping, no planning, nothing. I was not convinced that this baby would be born.
I was discharged from hospital after a week, mostly due to my insistence. The IV rehydration and heavy medication had helped somewhat but the nausea and vomiting was still unrelenting though the vomiting frequency was now down to two times a day. I stayed at home for another two weeks with a concoction of medication and towards the end of the second week, I started feeling better and even managed to go some days without vomiting. As a result, I decided to do a daring thing and travelled out of the country though at the back of my head, I doubted the wisdom of that move. Surprisingly, those two weeks that I was outside made me feel much better, almost normal. I was on a heavily medicated truce. Actually, I had carried so much medicine with me I thought I would be stopped at the airport.
The day I landed back however, I was back to my old sick self. I’m not sure if it was because of the change of environment but I relapsed. I was five months pregnant at the time. The situation persisted until month seven when I started feeling better again. Now I could hold food down though the nausea was always lurking somewhere in the background and I still had infrequent bouts of vomiting. This is the month that saved me. I gained weight rapidly and my belly really popped.
Towards the end of the eighth month, I relapsed again. From then on, I would oscillate between recovery and relapse. Extreme fatigue also took over and I was told I had anaemia!
Hello readers, hope you are well. Now, I received an email from Millicent Makina,who will share her experience with hyperemesis gravidarum (HG), which is a pregnancy complication characterized by severe nausea and vomiting that often leads to weight loss and dehydration.
This is Millicent’s story, which I hope will help increase awareness about the women who suffer extreme cases of nausea and morning sickness. I will break it down into two parts: one and two.
“The moment I found out that I was pregnant was the happiest moment of my life. Everything was going according to plan. My husband and I had agreed to wait for at least a year before having kids so that I could focus on my Master’s degree which I was studying for, and also to give us time to settle well into marriage.
The doctor looked at my husband and I, amused by the wide grins on our faces as she broke the wonderful news to us. I was almost six weeks pregnant!! Other than a missed period, I didn’t have any other symptom of pregnancy. In fact, I had had to take several tests over a span of days before a very faint pink line confirmed my suspicions. I felt great and I told the doctor as much. However, she didn’t share my excitement and was quite cautious, warning me not to get ahead of myself as I was yet to reach the sixth week of pregnancy. I remember her telling me very to enjoy the last few days as things were going to change drastically when I reached the sixth week. To date, I still wonder if that was a premonition or a curse.
Joy Turns to Despair
At exactly six weeks, I threw up for the first time. When I did so, I thought it was hilarious. So this was the famous morning sickness? Bring it on! I had read widely and thought that I was well prepared to deal with whatever issues pregnancy would bring my way. But nothing, absolutely nothing, could have prepared me for the nightmare that I was about to experience for the next eight months.
My situation rapidly deteriorated over the next two weeks with the nausea and vomiting increasing in intensity and frequency. By the time I reached eight weeks, it was no laughing matter. I was vomiting up to ten times a day with the nausea being unbearable. It was constantly there, day and night like a dark cloud hanging over me, no matter what I did or the remedies I tried. Even in my sleep, I could feel the nausea and would wake up and rush to the bathroom to throw up. My list of foods that I could eat narrowed very quickly and by the end of week eight I couldn’t hold anything down. Nothing, not even water could pass my lips without being violently spewed out a few seconds later. To make matters worse, my saliva production went into overdrive and I was constantly spitting copious amounts of thick saliva – a condition referred to as ptyalism. The saliva would literally froth in my mouth and fill it very quickly and if I didn’t spit quickly enough, I would end up vomiting again.
I crawled back to the doctor who gave me some medication for the nausea but it didn’t help much. I had also developed an acute sense of smell and could literally smell EVERYTHING which made the nausea and vomiting worse. My pet peeve was soap. I hated soap. It didn’t matter which type, they all smelled the same. I also hated perfumes, the smell of food, and the smell of people especially in crowded elevators. Basically if I could smell it, I hated it and I would throw up. I even hated my own body scent which was so frustrating because I couldn’t run away from myself. I hated my husband’s body scent too and didn’t want him near me which was frustrating for both of us.
I crawled back to the doctor for a second time and she gave me the same medication but increased the dosage and frequency. Still, there was very little relief though the vomiting reduced from ten times a day to about four or five. I was quickly losing weight and was unable to perform even the simplest of tasks. At any given time, I was either throwing up, or trying my best not to throw up and I was stuck in that state day after day, week after week. The interesting thing about HG is that throwing up does not provide any relief. You actually feel worse than when you started which triggers another bout of vomiting, which in turn triggers another, which then triggers another… and you are stuck in that vicious cycle day and night with no hope of relief.
Millicent was unable to keep any food down.
Throwing up in the Office
At the workplace, the cracks began to show. I was perpetually late and on some days I would not show up at all. Even when I did show up, it was impossible to work. I would sit at my desk and try to act normal but would rush to the washroom every so often to throw up. I used to walk around with paper bags to avoid messing up the floor when I couldn’t make it to the bathroom.
My colleagues noticed a change in my attitude and general disposition and started whispering about how moody and irritable I had become. Those who insisted on hovering around me even after I made it clear that I did not want company annoyed me because on top of the pressure of trying hard not to vomit in their presence, I now had to deal with the added pressure of trying to hold a conversation while trying to hold the vomit at the back of my throat and at the same time spit an insane amount of saliva discreetly enough to not disgust anybody, all the while dealing with their smells and loud conversations and raucous laughter which were enough trigger for me to throw up. What my colleagues were interpreting as pregnancy induced moodiness, was me desperately trying to hide my struggles from them and stay strong like other normal pregnant women. This was an office after all and my pregnancy was my personal business. I don’t remember harboring any ill feelings towards anybody though quite a number genuinely thought that I was mad at them for reasons they did not know.
Even using public transport was a challenge for Millicent as practically everything nauseated her.
Because work was piling on my desk, I had to inform my boss of my situation. Thankfully, he was very understanding but of course I still had to come to work and at least do something. I thought of taking sick days off but then I would ask myself, what of tomorrow and the day after? There was no hope of relief in sight. So I trudged on and forced myself to go to work except for the really really really bad days. Not that it was that easy, to move from point A to B. I would throw up several times along the way …. before I leave the house, at the side of the road, in my husband’s car, in matatus…I would tell the makanga to wait for me then I would go to the side of the road and throw up profusely. It was exhausting and embarrassing; and I would appear in the office looking dazed and disheveled.
I remember working late one day because there was something urgent that had to be finalized. I was feeling really sick but could not extricate myself from that particular assignment. When I finished the assignment at around 9.00 pm, I found that I could not even walk to the elevator and I was all alone in the office. I stood and saw the ground rushing to meet me.
Joyce Mwangi is our guest writer today. She is a mother of four children; two living and two who passed away through miscarriages. Joyce holds a Master of Divinity in Biblical Studies from Africa International University. She is a stay-at-home-mum and a blogger. Joyce writes Christian reflections derived from daily motherhood experiences.
Today, Joyce writes about a habit that many of us are familiar with –that of being part of the crowd that loves ‘peeping at the bride’ as she’s picked from her home in readiness for her big ceremony. Read on…
“A few weekends ago there was a lady in our estate who was getting married. I hadn’t known about the wedding until that beautiful Saturday morning. The caretaker was announcing to all and sundry that a bride would be picked from the compound and so we needed to go near their house and see her coming down the stairs. Guess who were her first converts? The children of course!
My daughter aged three years was among the first converts and she hurriedly went near the said apartment block to wait for ‘bibi harusi’ (the bride). You should have seen the excitement on her face as she jumped and down:
“Mommy, mommy bibi harusi!!!”
So the long wait began, with the familiar African protocol of picking up the bride: Women singing and dancing, ululations renting the air, and a few emissaries sent to the house to negotiate release of the bride.
We waited. And waited. And then waited some more.
When I say ‘we’, I’m talking about the cheering bystanders – our children, ourselves, our helpers, mothers, and immediate neighbors, and how can I forget the caretaker who convinced all of us to join the procession!
But there was also another very important group of people present -those who were actually part of the wedding procession. How was one able to differentiate us? By our dressing. While those who were part of the wedding were well dressed; head-to-toe, the compound on-lookers –such as me, were wearing our casual Saturday general relaxing and cleaning regalia, including those branded t-shirts.
After an hour plus, by this time the women dancing and singing had gotten tired and bored, the best man came down quickly and called the entire entourage upstairs. A deal had been reached, the bride was on her way down. We were so excited, especially the children. They were jumping up and down shouting ‘bibi harusi’. The bride did finally come down and that’s when ‘the separation’ happened.
What I mean by the ‘separation’ is when we the compound residents were pushed aside; or rather we pushed ourselves to one side while all the smartly dressed head-to-toe folks gathered together. The bride was quickly ushered into her car and off they went! And there we were, left behind, sullen.
The whole experience made me reflect on something. That the church is the Bride of Christ. Christ is her bridge groom and soon, He is coming back again to pick up His bride. On that day of the wedding feast of the Lamb what will you be? A part of the wedding feast as the Bride of Christ, or a cheering bystander who never got ready to become a part of the wedding feast, and who will be left behind, sullen? I pray that you will be a part of the Bride, and not the cheering curious bystanders.”
And those are Joyce’s words for us today. I hope you have been challenged. Otherwise, have a blessed week ahead.
Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve been highlighting the experiences of parents raising children with disability. I wrote about Stella, Regina and Wairimu. I’ve also shared the inspiring story of a young lady, Regina Mugure Mwangi, a student at USIU who has a physical disability. At the end of all these stories, you will notice that there is hope for both the child and the mom, thankfully.
One important thing that I’ve also noticed in all the stories (save for Mugure’s) that I’d like to point out is that the children, at some point in their infancy, suffered some illness. Especially jaundice. Something that new moms and dads must be keen about. You can read more about that here.
So, today, I’ll talk about Naomi, a beautiful mother of two. I met Naomi two weeks ago and as we chatted, the one thing that moved me most about her story is when she said: “Maryanne, I just long for the day that Joseph will be able to call me ‘mum’.
That pierced me deep.
At 12 years, her son Joseph has still never been able to speak. All he does is make sounds, but he cannot construct them into a word. Naomi’s hope for her son encouraged me so much.
“Maryanne, every single day, I know that he’s inching closer to saying his first words and constructing his first sentences. I believe soon and very soon, my dear son will be able to say those beautiful words –MUM to me.”
I wondered what it was that made her so convinced about this. And I soon found it out. But let me first take you back a little bit, to the beginning of her story.
Naomi, during my meeting with her.
When Naomi was in form one, she met a boy, and got pregnant. Then she never saw him again. He disappeared when he learnt she had conceived. Naomi nevertheless soldiered on with the pregnancy.
“When Joseph was born, I noticed that his eyes were yellow, but at the hospital, I was assured that they would clear in due time. However, when he was about two months old, his eyes got really yellow –almost dark yellow. Worried, I returned him to hospital. There, I was informed that he had severe jaundice. He was admitted and we stayed in hospital for three weeks as he received treatment. After we were discharged, I thought that was the end of his health problems.
But I was wrong.
When Joseph was five months old, I noticed that he wasn’t as noisy as other children his age. While other babies would make sounds and attempt to talk, not my Joseph. I also noticed that his head would always fall to the side, which was very unusual. I figured there must have been something wrong with his neck. I took him to hospital, where he was put on therapy to strengthen his neck muscles and head control.”
At that time, Naomi was living with her parents, and in her quest to still continue with her education, returned to school in form two.
But she wouldn’t last long in school.
“My son was always in and out of hospital. He also wasn’t hitting many of his milestones like he was supposed to. I knew it was bad because at one and a half years, he still couldn’t walk, and neither could he speak. Even though my mother tried her best to take care of Joseph –and still go to work, it just was not working out because his needs and demands were too many. I decided to put my studies on hold so that I could better take care of him. I said that when he got better, and until the time I was able to figure things out, I would return to school.”
As Joseph grew, Naomi would be informed that her son was mentally handicapped. That the jaundice he suffered when he was a newborn may have been responsible, she learnt.
You most likely have seen her on TV. 23-year-old Regina Mugure Mwangi is the face of the #NikoEducatable campaign, which encourages people to support the education of children with disability. I recently met Regina at her campus USIU Africa, where we spent a lovely afternoon chatting. Today, I bring you her story. Read on, and feel free to share the article.
“I was born healthy and I have fond memories of my early childhood in our rural home in Murang’a. In kindergarten, I loved playing and singing with my friends. Life was good! However, something unusual began happening just as I was about to enroll in class one.
My parents tell me that I suddenly began dragging my feet –for reasons they couldn’t understand. They took me to hospital and I was given medication, but the problem persisted. With each passing day, my walking became slower and slower as my feet became heavier and heavier.
My parents brought me to Nairobi for further treatment, but several hospital trips later, there was never a clear diagnosis of my problem. By this time, I had stopped going to school because my knees and legs had become too weak. My siblings and I were at that time staying in Kiambiu slums in Eastlands. Our mother had remained back home in Murang’a to tend to the farm.
Eventually, when I was 10 years old, dad found a school for me and I enrolled in class one. I was way older than my classmates. It was a privately-owned informal school in the slum. My dad had tried getting me into a special school, but the schools were far, and the transport logistics were too costly for him.
Regina, when I met her last week.
When I was in class 2, my dad got some reprieve when an Italian organization called Centrum Narovinu that sympathized with my plight offered to pay my school fees. However, my health challenges persisted. In class 3, my mobility became almost impossible because by that time, my knees had stiffened completely and I was unable to stretch my legs or even get up. Some neighbors told my dad about an organization called the Association for the Physically Disabled of Kenya (APDK), and urged him to reach out to them. It is this organization that facilitated my access to AIC Kijabe Hospital where I underwent knee surgery.
After the surgery though, the doctors told my parents that there was yet another problem with me –this time even more serious than my knees and legs.
Apparently, my back had a major problem -somewhere around the spine. They recommended more surgery, but informed my parents that it could go two ways: that I could get worse, or I could get better.
My parents, fearful that the surgery would aggravate my condition or even worse –that I would die under the operating table, decided against the risky procedure and took me home. I was given a wheelchair to assist with my mobility, and I continued attending therapy at APDK twice a week.
I continued with my education at the school, grateful to the Italian organization that sponsored my education. However, when I was in class 7, the school suddenly closed down after its owner got into financial difficulties. That left my dad, a jua kali artisan completely helpless as he didn’t know where else he’d find a school for me.
Moving through the difficult slum terrain on a wheel chair was tough, and he couldn’t afford to hire private transport for me. So I stayed at home as I watched the days and weeks turn into months. Month after month, I would look forward to my dad coming home with some good news, but it never happened. I would watch my friends go to school and listen to their stories about school when they returned. I desired the same for myself so much…
Then again I also wonder –would I ever know if any of my sons were being bullied? How would I be able to tell in case they didn’t tell me? How would I be able to assist them?
