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Hyperemesis Gravidarum in Kenya: Millicent Makina’s Story (Part 2)

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Millicent Makina

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.

Related: “The Doctors Considered Terminating my Two Pregnancies” -Joan Mwaura’s Struggle with Severe Morning Sickness 

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.

Related: Vicky Gachuche: My Experience with Extreme Nausea and Vomiting in my Pregnancies

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!

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Hyperemesis Gravidarum in Kenya: “I was Convinced that Neither me nor my Baby would Survive” -My Traumatic Experience with Severe Nausea and Vomiting in Pregnancy (Part One)

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Millicent Makina

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.

You can read one mom’s such experience here: “The Doctors Considered Terminating my Two Pregnancies” -Joan Mwaura’s Struggle with Severe Morning Sickness. I had also published an earlier article on Victoria Gachuche, who also experienced HG in her two pregnancies. You can catch up with that here: “My Experience with Extreme Nausea and Vomiting in my Pregnancies” -Vicky Gachuche

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.

Related: How Weight Affects your Chances of Getting Pregnant

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.

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The Cheering Bystanders, by Joyce Mwangi

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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.

Maryanne, Mummy Tales.

You may Also Like: When Two Become One… Tony and Connie’s Wedding

Raising a Special Needs Child in Kenya: Naomi’s Story

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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.

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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.”

Naomi-5

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.

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“Getting into this University was a Far-Fetched Dream. I was Even Advised to ‘Stick to my Lane’ –Regina Mugure Mwangi’s Story

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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.
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.

Regina-Mugure-Mwangi-1-b

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…

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The List of 6 Cartoons that have been Banned by Ezekiel Mutua Because they Promote Homosexuality

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Following public outcry about some cartoons some of our kids watch on pay TV, and which seemingly glorify the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender (LGBT) agenda, the Kenya Film Classification Board (KCFB) headed by Chief Executive Officer Dr. Ezekiel Mutua has written to Multichoice and asked them to immediately discontinue the broadcasting, distribution or exhibition of the programmes.

The six named programmes are:

  1. The Loud House (shows on Nickelodeon)
  2. The Legend of Korra (shows on Nickelodeon)
  3. Hey Arnold (shows on Nickelodeon)
  4. Clarence (shows on Cartoon Network)
  5. Steven Universe (shows on Cartoon Network)
  6. Adventure Time (shows on Cartoon Network)

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Dr. Mutua (pictured) says that the cartoons are laced with subtle messages normalizing, glamorizing or even glorifying homosexual behaviour, which goes against Kenya’s morals and values.

This is interesting news. Do your kids watch the mentioned cartoons? Do they love them? Have you ever noticed the kind of content that Dr. Mutua is referring to? What do you think of KCFB’s move?

See below for the full statement.

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KFCB-2

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featured images: Nickelodeon l Ezekiel Mutua Twitter

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House Helps in Kenya: It’s Been Nine Great Years with my House Help, and Here’s Why that has Worked Out

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Hello moms. One of the most widely-read blog posts here on Mummy Tales is this one: Caroline Kinyanjui: I Have been with my House Girl for 13 Years. Caroline’s story is an interesting read for many reasons, chief  among them being that she’s one of the few moms today who have managed to stay with one house girl that long. So we’re all curious to know exactly how Caroline does it. Be sure to read her story in case you’ve never read it. 

Now, I recently talked to a mom who has been with her house girl for 9 years –which is still a considerable lengthy time in this day and age if you ask me. So I asked her if she’d be kind enough to share a few tips on what she’s learnt, and the advice she can offer us on the same. This is what this mom, a human resource and career expert said:

1.   I have accepted the fact that no one will do things perfectly in the house the way I want them to be done – apart from myself. When I find something hasn’t been done the way I want, I point it out and if I have time I’ll do it myself. When this happens, chances are that next time I’ll find it well done.

2.   As long as the basic chores around the home are done and my children are healthy and happy with the house girl, that is an A+ for me.

3.   You can never find that perfect house girl. It is simply impossible. If you keep firing one after the other because of any mistake they do, you’ll keep firing them forever.

Also Read: Do You Have a High Turn Over of House Girls? Be Careful About That

4.   In the same breath, house girls makes mistakes, sometimes very serious and expensive mistakes, but the way you handle the issue matters. I have dealt with such situations in a sober and mature manner, with an understanding that no one is perfect –including myself. Besides, we all make mistakes at work, in our businesses and unfortunately sometimes with our children. So if an item is not well-cleaned, ironed or even broken, or if the food is not well prepared, communicate with her – and if you cannot cope, just release her.

5.   Don’t yell at your house girl, or anybody else for that matter. When someone shouts at you, it demoralizes you and makes you feel terrible, so don’t do the same to her. Remember you leave your children with your house girl when you’re away at work or running errands, so yell at her at your own peril.

Also See: When Should you Increase Your House Girl’s Salary and by How Much?

6.   Sometimes when I get annoyed at things she’s done I relax, take a deep breath and try to rectify what could have gone wrong

7.   My house girl did not complete school, but is attending “gumbaru” (adult education classes) to at least learn to read, write and speak some English and hopefully establish a business sometime in the near future.

8.   Much as many people may find it hard to accept, a house girl’s work should be respected just like any career. I know of house girls who have educated their children up to university level through their work. As a career expert, I believe that any job that gives you satisfaction, an income and dignity is a career like any other. Nowadays, women are enrolling in colleges to learn how to be professional house girls and domestic managers. I know of one live-in house girl who earns Sh50,000 per month. Through the years, she has been able to give her children a good education. So why wouldn’t she be proud of that and work until she retires?

Well, so those are the experiences of this mom. Just like I have, I hope you’ve picked a thing or two that you can apply in your own situation. So how long have you had your house girl for? What have been your experiences? If you’ve had one for at least more than 5 years, what tips would you share with fellow moms?

You may Also Like to Read:

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The Day I Found out my House Girl was HIV Positive

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12 Questions to Ask when Interviewing a House Girl

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Former House Girl Starts her own Salon Business

The topic of house girls is one that most moms can go on and on and on about. So what’s your experience?

Mummy Tales is 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 moms hereFollow Mummy Tales on: INSTAGRAM TWITTER 

We Were told that ‘Boys have Delayed Milestones’ so we Needn’t Worry. But they were Wrong. Our Son had a Problem

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They boy, Safari.

Wairimu is aunt to seven-year old Safari. She dots on the young lad, who has a special place in her heart. Wairimu and Safari’s mom are twin sisters, and the closeness between the sisters has made Wairimu assume many of the responsibilities of raising Safari, who has special needs. Today, Wairimu shares with us the experiences of raising Safari, including the pursuit of an education for him. I welcome you to read her story*.  

“When Safari was just three months old, we knew that something was wrong with him somewhere, though we couldn’t tell exactly what it was. His head was still very wobbly and when we placed him on the sofa, he would easily topple over so we had to put a pillow on both sides to prevent him from doing so. Worried, we asked some doctors about his seemingly slow development. But the answer was always the same: that boys have ‘delayed milestones’, meaning their growth lags behind that of their girl peers.

And so assured, we waited and waited…..and continued waiting….

But as we continued waiting, one particular incident was never far from our minds. This was something that happened when he was a newborn.

At only six days old, he had suffered jaundice. Many babies experience mild jaundice, which is a yellow tint to a newborn’s skin and the white part of the eyes. This is a sign that there is too much bilirubin in the baby’s blood. But it usually gets better or simply goes away on its own within a week or two –without causing any problems. However, in rare cases, if the bilirubin levels remain high and without appropriate medical attention, it could lead to brain damage called kernicterus. That is apparently what our baby had. Neonatal kernicterus. Safari was admitted to Kenyatta National Hospital, where he underwent a blood transfusion and was placed under photo-therapy. I remember his little eyes being so tightly bandaged to ensure that no light reached or affected them. I wondered if it hurt him.

Dr_Ribeiro_Parklands_School

But as I mentioned earlier, he wasn’t developing at the rate of most children his age. Something about him still bothered us. At almost two years old, he still couldn’t stand on his own, while his peers were running. But yet, we kept being told that ‘boys achieve their milestones late, so just relax, there’s nothing wrong with him’. Unsettled, we took him to the hospital and eventually, we were given a diagnosis of Cerebral Palsy, a disorder that impairs control of movement caused by damage to the developing brain.

The news was hard to take in. We believe that the neonatal kernicterus contributed to his cerebral palsy. Interestingly, the conversations we’ve had with other mothers who have children with cerebral palsy are almost similar; they all say that their children fell sick at some point soon after birth. For some, it was jaundice, malaria, others meningitis, others something else. But there was a sickness involved somewhere in those first weeks. Same case with Safari.

After we were told he had cerebral palsy, I admit we struggled to accept that his special needs were going to be with him; with us, for the rest of his life. It was slowly sinking that it was not something Safari would outgrow, and there was no miracle cure anywhere…

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“After I Became Deaf I gave up, but Now I want to do More with my Life than Just Give up” -Mandy

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For about two weeks now, I’ve been sharing the experiences of parents who are raising their children with disability. In case you missed those posts, you can catch the first one here:  “Other Parents Complained about my ‘Nuisance’ Son and Urged the Head Teacher to Expel Him” -Stella Mwaromo Shares Her Story

and the second one here:

“Why it Took me Years to Realize that My Son Could Neither Speak nor Hear” -Regina Wanjiru’s Story.

Now, I’ve just come across the story of Mandy, who, after losing her hearing at the age of 18 years, now uses vibrations in the ground to pursue her dream of singing. To understand what I’m talking about, watch her video below.

Watching Mandy sing and utter the words: “After I Became Deaf I gave up, but Now I want to do More with my Life than Just Give up” has reaffirmed my belief in the #NikoEducatable campaign, which is working towards ensuring that children with disability are able to go to school, receive an education and pursue their dreams. We all know that many parents of special needs children, especially those from disadvantaged backgrounds are unable to send their children to school for many reasons, among them: finances, logistical challenges in regards to getting the child to and from school, as well as lack of any hope for the future of the child with disability.

But the truth is, disability doesn’t have to signal the end of one’s dreams. It doesn’t have to end the dreams of the child, and neither does it have to signal the end the dreams of the parent for his or her child. Just like Mandy in the video, their dreams can still be achieved. A good case example is Regina Mugure, who is pursuing her dream to become a diplomat or a famed journalist. Watch her below.

You too can be a part of these dreams by supporting the dreams of children like Regina, through the #NikoEducatable campaign. See this link for more details.

You can also follow the #NikoEducatable conversations on Facebook: NikoEducatable and Twitter: @NikoEducatable

Mummy Tales is 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 moms hereFollow Mummy Tales on: FACEBOOK INSTAGRAM TWITTER 

The Circumstances that Led to the Death of Dru, a Young Mom who Passed on While Giving Life

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Dru, her husband and their son. Photo courtesy: #GodHealDru on Facebook

A few weeks ago, my timelines were filled with the hashtag #GodHealDru. It was hard not to follow the conversation. I didn’t know Dru, but I got to find out that she was a beautiful 34-year-old mom fighting for her life at a Mombasa hospital as a result of pregnancy complications. Her story was so emotional, with the hashtag peppered with stunning photos of her pregnancy, her adorable three-year-old son and her husband. They were such lovely family photos, filled with great joy and happiness. It was so heartbreaking to learn that Dru was fighting for her life as she was in the process of giving life.

Shortly thereafter, photos of her newborn son accompanied the hashtag. Also blood appeals for Dru, who was now in critical condition. Soon, information that Dru was no more began being shared. The news was hard to swallow. I had so much hope that she would make it.

Now, whenever I learn of the news of a woman’s death –especially a death as a result of pregnancy or childbirth complications, it takes me to a certain place. A place so dark, a place full of apprehension. And to be honest, fear. A place where I get to better understand the fragility of life. One moment you’re celebrating life, celebrating forthcoming life, the next minute it’s all darkness. It sadly makes me deeply reflect on the saying that goes like: “A Pregnant Woman has One Foot in the Grave’.

So what happened to Dru, that led to her death?

Below, I share excerpts from Eunice Kilonzo’s narration of Dru’s story in the Daily Nation.

Dru, her husband and their son. photo sourced from: #GodHealDru on Facebook
Dru, her husband and their son. photo sourced from: #GodHealDru on Facebook

Druscillah Walowe Mngoda, popularly known as Dru, was wife to Dan Kinyanjui. Her husband says that on the night of Saturday 20 May, they arrived home after an awesome evening at a friend’s place.

“We went to bed, but at 1am she woke up complaining of heartburn. She wanted to brush it off, but when she threw up I immediately rushed her to Nyali Healthcare in Nyali, where we were ably assisted before being referred to Aga Khan Hospital for admission,” Dan says.

While at admissions, Dan heard the four words that would forever change the course of his life and that of his two sons.

Maternity Wing, Code Purple! Someone bellowed from down the corridor.

“I rushed there to find my Babe convulsing,” he says, using the affectionate name, Babe, to refer to his wife of six years. “She was in a fit and foaming, and once she was stabilized I signed the consent forms for her to go for emergency Caesarian section.”

Doctors told him the fit was indicative of high blood pressure complications during pregnancy, referred to in medical terms as eclampsia. If unmanaged, it could destroy the liver, kidneys and even the brain.

What Dru was going through was a severe complication of pre-eclampsia, a condition that affects some pregnant women, usually after the 20th week or the second half of pregnancy, or soon after their baby is delivered.

Also Read: Preeclampsia: All You Need to Know

Dru, who had celebrated her 34th birthday on May 13, and who had just walked into the hospital unassisted, was now motionless after a series of convulsions and violent shaking. Doctors surgically removed the baby — Dan named him Darrell — and, as they wheeled the little chap out of theatre, another team wheeled the mother into the Intensive Care Unit of the hospital. She had slipped into a coma.

In the morning the hospital made an O+ blood donation request. Dru required fresh platelets — the blood cells that aid in clotting — as her body was not producing any. This is because at this point the pre-eclampsia was progressing to a life-threatening syndrome called Hemolysis, Elevated Liver Enzymes and Low Platelets (HELLP).

Dru had suffered a brain aneurism — a bulging, weak area in the wall of an artery that supplies blood to the brain — due to the high blood pressure. That means the blood pressure was so high that it exerted a force against the walls of her arteries that was high enough to damage them and other blood vessels.

This damage restricted blood flow, leading to a swelling in the blood vessels in Dru’s brain and interfered with its ability to function, which explains the seizures.

Dan says the blood in his wife’s brain caused coning — the squeezing of the brain and brain stem through the foramen magnum (the hole in the base of the skull through which the spinal cord passes) as a result of swelling — which led to brain death. Eventually, Dru’s heart stopped.

You can read the full story at the Daily Nation. May God comfort her husband, her sons, her family, friends, and all those whom she touched. May God’s favor be upon the dear ones she has left behind.

I have previously written the stories of other moms who have preeclampsia experiences. Some survived with their babies, some lost their babies, while other moms like Claris did not make it while her son survived. You can read their stories in the links below, and share them with a friend to create more awareness about this dangerous pregnancy condition.

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I Survived Preeclampsia, but my Baby did Not” -Helen Njoroge’s Story

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Mercyline Chemutai: My Experiences with Preeclampsia, a Blighted Ovum, Pregnancy Losses and Faith in God

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“The Day I Almost Lost my Life” -Caroline Gachii

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“I Trusted my Doctor Too Much: How I Survived Preeclampsia but Lost My Baby” -Jane Minoo

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George Ojwang Remembering His Dear Wife Claris, Two Years On

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Doryce Olough: I Lost my Baby to Pre-eclampsia

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“I Spent Almost Half of my Pregnancy in Tears!” -Mary Naanyu

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I Was Scared of Getting Pregnant Again because of my Previous Preeclampsia Experience” -Lucy Morangi

Mummy Tales is 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 moms here. Follow Mummy Tales on: FACEBOOK INSTAGRAM TWITTER 

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