In 2010, Susan Kuria gave birth to her first child –a beautiful baby girl who weighed 2.7kg. It had been a relatively smooth pregnancy and a delivery devoid of any significant challenges. Susan and her husband called their lovely daughter Princess Gathoni. The couple, just like any other, were ecstatic about the additional member in the family and felt very blessed. However, this joy would not last long.
Today, I bring you Susan’s story. Susan will be a regular contributor on Mummy Tales, where she will be sharing her experiences raising her special needs daughter. Her experiences, I believe, will help inform us on some of the issues that parents of special needs children face. They will also help other parents know that they are not alone in their parenting journey. I welcome you to read Susan’s pieces and share the information with parents or friends who you believe would benefit from the same.
Susan with her husband Patrick.
“Just three days after Princess Gathoni’s birth, something about her behaviour threw us into panic. She was lethargic, wasn’t breastfeeding or crying. We rushed her to the hospital where she was admitted with a diagnosis of severe jaundice. This wasn’t the best news for us.
Basic procedures including tests, phototherapy and blood transfusion exchange were done on Princess. It was such a stressful moment for me –I was just a first-time mom and this wasn’t the motherhood experience I had anticipated. I was yet to understand what was happening, and why our innocent baby had to go through all that pain. Princess stayed in hospital for two weeks. We thanked God for her healing and looked forward to a bright future.
At six weeks, Princess was booked in for an auditory test as we had been advised. Again, the results were not good. She was diagnosed with bilateral profound hearing loss. Well, I figured it couldn’t be so bad since I had seen some of my friends who were hearing-challenged doing well with sign language and were successful in life. I was ready to face that challenge.
Princess Gathoni at a much younger age.
Princess continued to grow into a beautiful baby, but with time I noticed she appeared weak or was under-performing in her milestones. At four months she didn’t have a head control and this alarmed us. We decided to see a Neurologist.
What the Neurologist said: “your child has cerebral palsy” is still fresh in my mind, seven years later. I didn’t understand what that was, all I remember was getting an overwhelming feeling of being scared.
Hello friends, I hope your week is coming along good. Owing to the number of women in abusive relationships that I have come to learn about -more so those who don’t quite know what to do about their situation, I decided to run a series of articles based on the experiences of women who have survived abuse from their partners/spouses, in the hope that these women can learn something (before it’s too late). I also acknowledge the fact that there are many women who sadly, didn’t make it out of their abusive relationships alive. I started with the story of Valerie here: Why an Educated, Intelligent Woman Like Me Stayed in an Abusive Marriage followed by Linah’s story on Why I Stayed in an Abusive Relationship for Three Years.
Their stories help answer the questions that we always ask: Why can’t a woman in an abusive relationship just walk out? What is she waiting for? To die? Well, through the stories I share, I hope we will get to better understand the woman and #WhySheStays and at the end of it all, see how we can possibly help -before it’s too late. Today, I bring you the story of a lady who shared her experience with me, but asked to remain anonymous. Read on…
“The first time my husband hit me was in the first year of our come-we-stay union. The year was 2004 and I had just delivered our first born –a son through caesarean section. As he went to the bathroom to take a shower in preparation for work, he asked me to iron his shirt.
I however delayed doing so because my caesarean section wound was still very fresh meaning my movement was challenged. In addition, our newborn son had started crying as soon as my husband got into the bathroom, so I decided to attend to him first. But when my husband stepped out of the shower and found that I still hadn’t ironed his shirt, he became so annoyed and without waiting to hear my explanation, he slapped me so hard across my face until I went dizzy for a few minutes. That was the first time he hit me.
I was 21 years-old, newly ‘married’ and completely confused about what to do next. I wanted to return home to my parents, but cringed at the thought of the shame and embarrassment I would get. I also feared that I would be told I was being too petty, that I didn’t know how to keep my house together. So I decided to stay and work on my marriage.
I fell in love with him because he was such a cool, polite, responsible guy. I liked him even more because he never took alcohol. But the man turned out to be a beast. After that first beating, the violence became a regular affair, where any small disagreement would end up with him insulting and hitting me. He would beat me up over very petty things. In fact, it was so bad that sometimes he would come up to me and say ‘sijakuchapa siku mingi’ (I haven’t hit you in a long time), then go ahead to beat me. Just like that. Whenever I would tell him to stop, he would say “You can as well go back to your parents”.
But going back to my parents was not that easy. Many times I had told them about my husband’s abuse towards me, but they didn’t take it seriously. You see, my husband had such a calm and charming demeanor about him, it was very difficult to convince anybody that he could even hurt a fly. In addition, my husband provided everything for us –I must admit that we never lacked. They wondered what more I needed, saying I was being ungrateful because there were women in far worse marriages. They would tell me to go back to him and try avoid doing whatever it was that was annoying him. So where then could I run to?
One day in 2010, when our second son was just six months old, he hit me so bad that I decided to leave. What had happened is that I had taken a loan to boost my small printing business. He was never interested in what I did (remember he provided everything for us), so I didn’t see the need to ask him for permission to take a loan. But he didn’t think the same, as I was to discover.
When I was pregnant, on both occasions, I did ultrasounds that revealed I was carrying boys. And the scans were right. I was indeed carrying boys. In fact, I remember the ultrasounds being so clear, there was no room for doubt. On both occasions, in two flat seconds, the doctor was like “There –can you see? It’s a boy.” There was no that thing of ati ‘are you sure’ ‘let me look closely…’ ebu turn the baby a little bit we get a better view…’ No. They were boys. As simple as that.
So I went ahead and did my baby boy newborn shopping. Actually I didn’t do much baby shopping with my second pregnancy because it was also a boy. He just inherited his big brother’s stuff. Saved me lots of money. Yaaaay!
But I’ve come across moms who tell me that the ultrasounds they did showed they were carrying a boy, only for them to deliver a bouncing baby girl! Or the scan showed that the mom was carrying a girl, only for her to deliver an adorable little boy! I must admit that sometimes I’ve had a good laugh about it with them as they narrate how they’d gone all out and done pre-baby shopping and bought loads of stuff for one gender, only to be surprised like that.
Gakii Muriithi with her sons.
Gakii Muriithi is one such mom. When she did an ultrasound, she was delighted to learn that she was carrying twins. She was even more ecstatic when the scan showed that she was carrying a boy and a girl. How lovely!
Well, she was to get the surprise of her life when at 37 weeks, she delivered two beautiful boys –fraternal twins Loran and Lenny. Yet the ultrasound had revealed she was going to have a boy and a girl!
“I indeed got the shock of my life when I was presented with two boys! I guess ultrasounds are not to be trusted 100 per cent. Having two boys really caught me off guard, but it was such a pleasant surprise!” she laughs.
Gakii’s adorable sons Loran and Lenny 🙂
How about you? Did you do an ultrasound when you were pregnant? Was the ultrasound accurate, or did you get the surprise of your life? Share in the comments section below 🙂
Earlier this year, I’d mentioned that I would be delving more into broader issues surrounding motherhood and womanhood. In that article, I had featured Waturi Wamboye who said that when she was a new in marriage, she tried to live up to the expectations of being a new wife but at some point, she realized she just couldn’t do it all. You can read Waturi’s story here.
Waturi Wamboye
Relatedly, one of the many issues that troubles many new wives, as I have discovered, is the one of house chores. I’m talking about moments where their husbands expect them to do most –if not all of the house work –cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, ironing clothes… as he simply sits back, waiting to be served.
“Hubby just leaves me to do all the work, never once lifting a finger to help. As a woman, society may expect me to do the house work, but surely, in this day and age, is right for a man to just sit there as I break my back? Like really? Haven’t the men of today been raised better than that? This is not days of our parents, we are in a different generation! Surely, is it so difficult for the man to just help me out?” I have heard new wives ask, with such pain in their voices.
This situation is often the time when there are no children in the union –yet –and there is no resident house girl to assist with the house chores, so the expectations of these tasks often fall on the woman.
I spoke to Lorraine Onyango, who has been married for just over a year now, on how she herself copes with this situation. She told me:
“I decided early on in our marriage that I wasn’t going to try and be superwoman, especially because I have such a demanding job. So I organized for a house help to come a few times a week to clean, wash and sometimes cook. On the days she doesn’t cook, I don’t mind preparing dinner. Sometimes I get her to do the chopping of ingredients beforehand to make my work easier.”
Lorraine and her husband David.
She continues to offer advice to other newlyweds:
It is always best to communicate your needs to your spouse. Sometimes it’s easier to assume your partner doesn’t care yet he probably grew up in a different setting. For example, in our home, my mom taught my brothers to cook when they were young, and so it’s something the can easily help out on. However, you’ll find that in other households, the boys didn’t do anything of the sort, and their mother was happy to take care of all the household chores. So such a man enters the marriage expecting the same of his wife. The fact is that one’s upbringing impacts how they approach issues in marriage, and so it’s best to have this discussion early on about expectations, where the couple can also clearly outline where and how one will need the help of their spouse.
‘Coffee and Love Chats’, which contains nine couple’s marriage experiences.
The other thing to remember is that maybe a husband can’t help in the kitchen but he is a brilliant problem solver. Or maybe he’s not skilled in the kitchen but is great with the kids. Some husbands love to cook, others don’t. There are many different ways to partner with each other, so the key is to understand and adjust accordingly.”
That is Lorraine’s practical advice –based on her own experiences. By the way Lorraine is an author of the book Coffee and Love Chats, which I wrote about here. So I hope her advice helps, alongside Waturi’s.
If you are in this situation, or you probably know of a woman going through this, then share this information with her, it could help. Also share with that man who you know could benefit from this information.
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
How do you fold your t-shirts? For the longest time ever, I’ve always folded them one way: I first fold the right side (vertically) then bring it to the middle, then fold the left side (vertically) then bring it to the middle. I then I fold the t-shirt in half. And that’s it. I hope I’ve made sense?
Now, I’ve just come across other ways of doing so, and which I will definitely try out. Have a look at this video below by Tulip, and see the different ways that you can fold your tee’s. Numbers 3 (Japanese fold) and 4 (ranger roll) are the one’s I’ve never tried out. And they look interesting! They are on my to-do-list.
So have you learnt a new way to fold your t-shirt as well? You can follow Tulip for more very helpful household tips.
By the way, this blog (Mummy Tales) has been nominated for a 2017 BAKE awards -in the Best Women and Girls Empowerment category. I will appreciate your support. Kindly click onthis linkto cast your vote (number 21 .a). Thank you for your time.
Why don’t women in abusive relationships and marriages just leave? Why is it so hard for a woman to pack her things and leave a man who causes her so much torment? A man who batters her senseless? Verbally insults her? A man who has no respect for her? Why does she stay?
These are some of the questions that many of us ask when we learn about a friend, relative or colleague in an abusive relationship. I am currently running a series of articles of women sharing –in their own words –their own domestic violence experiences which offer insights and answers to some of these questions that we ask. I started off by sharing Valerie’s experience, who talks about how she endured years of abuse by a husband who would become sexually aroused after beating her up. Read that story here: “Why an Educated, Intelligent Woman Like me Stayed in an Abusive Marriage”
Today, I share the story of Linah, who similarly endured years of abuse by a man she loved.
“When I met my ex, he seemed like a nice and polite man, until I moved in with him a few months later. That was when I began to see the other side of him. I vividly remember the first day he got violent with me. We were in the house and disagreed on something. Next thing I knew, he was all over me, beating me up. In one sentence, he said I had made him angry and in the next sentence, he said he loved me. Then he apologized, saying how sorry he was for beating me.
After that first episode, the beatings became frequent. He would beat me for any reason that entered his head. I particularly remember whenever we had guests at our house, I would always start crying when it was time for them to leave. This is because I knew what would follow next. Just as soon as they were gone, he would start asking me why I had put on ‘that dress’, ‘that blouse’ or ‘that trouser’, while accusing me of flirting with the guests. Then the kicks and blows would come fast, followed by the words: ‘I love you’, ‘I’m jealous’, and ‘You make me angry, that is why I do this’.”
The interesting thing is that everyone who met him thought he was such a gentleman! There was no way you would ever pick him out as an abuser. He was always smiling, calm, gentle and helpful, leaving himself impressionable on anyone who met him.
At that time, I was working two jobs, one of which required me to be on duty at night. He would come to my workplace and park his car in a corner and spy on me –checking if anyone would come see me there. At times he would call me to go outside just so that I could tell him goodnight. He said he did all that because he loved me. Sometimes I concluded it was my fault when he said I made him angry because I really thought his love for me was genuine.
By the way, he would also take my paycheck at the end of the month and monitor my bank account, keeping track of all the transactions I made. My boss knew what was happening. Sometimes when I would walk into the office, she would tell me she was aware that I was being abused, but that she couldn’t do anything until I myself reached out for help. But I denied everything. I couldn’t admit to anyone that I was a victim of domestic violence. It was too embarrassing.
But it wasn’t only my boss who suspected it. Some friends tried to talk to me out of that relationship, but I was already deeply traumatized by years of verbal, physical, emotional, financial and sexual violence. I endured the abuse for three agonizing years because I had gradually come to believe that I was not good enough and the more I got in deep, the harder it became to think otherwise.
I got my freedom one night when we went out to a club. When a long-time friend said hello to me, my boyfriend got so worked up! He pulled me outside and began beating me. He even tried to choke me! It was so bad that fellow revelers called the police -who arrived just in time to catch him in the act. By that time my face was bruised, bleeding and swollen.
Hello friends, hope your mid-week is coming along well. Following a number of online posts I have read of women in abusive relationships, I have seen it necessary to run a series of articles telling the stories of women who have lived through intimate partner violence, in the hope that their stories can help another woman. Today, I share Valerie’s story, and the lessons that we can pick from it.
When growing up, Valerie M. had big plans for her future. She would be married by 27 years and at 30 years, she would retire from work to travel around the world with her husband and their two children. Valerie’s parents gave her a solid foundation and set her on the path to a great future. She attended Loreto Msongari School for her primary education before moving to Braeside High School for her O’ levels. At the age of 20 years, Valerie had graduated from the United States International University (USIU) with a degree in hotel and restaurant management. She was intelligent, bright, smart, and was confident that by 30 years, she would have achieved it all.
But today, Valerie is a 32-year-old single mother, unemployed and separated from her husband. Life did not pan out exactly as she had planned. So what happened?
“It all began when I left Kenya for Malaysia to study for my MBA degree in 2008. In January 2009, I met my prince charming –a Nigerian man through mutual friends. We hit it off immediately. Four months later, we were engaged and in August 2009, we both came to Kenya where he met my family. The wedding, to be held in Nigeria, was planned for December that year.
Two weeks before our wedding, my mother, aunts, uncles and close relatives traveled to Nigeria, as it was important for them to familiarize themselves with my future family. But things started going wrong soon after. My family said there was ‘something wrong’ with my fiancé and his family. Their future in-laws had given them a cold reception, and had completely ignored them for the two weeks they were there. My relatives further observed that my fiancé and his family were treating me more like a maid than a wife-to-be. Their strong instincts told them he wasn’t the man for me. But I ignored them.
Determined to stop our nuptials, just two days to the wedding, my family deceived me and before I knew what was happening, I was on a plane back to Nairobi! This made me very angry. But I worked out a plan. Nothing was going to stop me from marrying my love.
Immediately I arrived in Nairobi, I secretly got in touch with my fiancé and asked him to send me a ticket back to Nigeria. In five days, I was back in Nigeria without my family’s knowledge. Two weeks later, we held our wedding. Only six people witnessed our nuptials –me, my husband, his two brothers, a sister-in-law and the officiating pastor. I admit that I was however sad that none of my family or friends was present for my big day, especially my mother. But I had made my choice.
My new husband and I then returned to Malaysia where I continued with my studies. I wholeheartedly embraced my role as a wife, determined to make my marriage work. My parents had divorced when I was young and I didn’t want the same thing to happen to me so I purposed to make my marriage work, no matter what.
But my marriage didn’t start out as I expected. No matter how hard I tried, nothing pleased my husband. I am a good cook but yet my husband always complained about the meals I prepared. I kept the house clean and neat, but he always said it was untidy. I found myself constantly apologizing for one thing or another. Because I was determined to be a good wife, I stopped going to school so that I could focus on my marriage and work on everything I was doing that seemed to upset my husband.
Meanwhile, he had asked me to disclose to him passwords to all my emails, social media accounts, PIN numbers and bank accounts. Any money I made, he asked me to surrender to him, which I did. I didn’t mind doing so because I thought I was being an obedient wife. I didn’t want to do anything that would look rebellious to him. Interestingly, he never shared any details of his accounts or passwords with me.
For the first six months of my marriage, I never communicated with any member of my family. Due to the acrimonious manner they had left Nigeria, my husband forbade me from communicating with them because of their ‘bad behaviour’. He told me to instead focus on him and our marriage.
But as the months wore on, I began feeling trapped. My husband was always unhappy with me. No matter how hard I tried, I could never please him. We were in Malaysia and I had no friends or family around me. I felt isolated. It was also around the time I fell pregnant. One day, I decided to call my younger brother and as we talked, my husband walked into the room. He suddenly descended on me with kicks and blows, accusing me of cheating on him. I was four months pregnant then. He beat me up like a dog.
I’m in a number of Facebook groups that have thousands of Kenyan moms. And I take note that there are many women suffering abuse from their spouses and boyfriends, in silence. Interestingly, more and more women are beginning to talk about their suffering. They are coming out to do so, even though most are doing so under pseudo’s. Which is fine because this is significant. It is important to say something. It is a first step. A first step to something.
These are beautiful women tormented in marriages and in ‘complicated relationships’. They are staying put because of ‘what society will say’. Staying put ‘because of the kids’. Staying put ‘because he’s an amazing dad’. Staying put ‘because I’ve invested too much work in this marriage to just walk out’. Staying put ‘because I wouldn’t know where to start (he provides everything). Staying put ‘because when he doesn’t drink alcohol he’s a very good man’. Staying put ‘because I have my flaws and no one else can love me the way he does…
I know a number of women in these situations. And I’m sure you also know one or two or three women suffering an abusive relationship. And the question we always ask is: “Why don’t you just leave?” When we learn of another woman suffering in an abusive relationship, we ask: “Why doesn’t she just leave?” And when she dies we ask, “Why didn’t she just leave?”
On the blog next week, I’ll focus on the topic of intimate partner violence. And why she doesn’t just leave. Why she stays. #WhySheStays
If you have an intimate partner violence experience to share (you can remain anonymous), inbox me on Facebook or email me on maryanne@mummytales.com with your story.
If you are in an organization that addresses the issue of gender-based violence, email me on maryanne@mummytales.com with the organization’s details and how those suffering abuse can reach out for help.
Purity Musalia, 30, is a Procurement Officer and a mother of one. Today, she shares with us her journey as a first-time mom, including how she ended up becoming a mother on the same day she was supposed to attend her own graduation ceremony at Kenyatta University. Purity spoke to Mummy Tales writer SYLVIA WAKHISI.
“When I discovered I was pregnant, I remember being so excited but yet very anxious at the same time. With my period late, I had decided to buy a home testing kit and when I tested, two lines appeared, though one was faint. I wasn’t sure if I was pregnant or not, so I took a photo of the results and sent it to my friend, a gynaecologist asking him: “should I be excited?” His reply was: “Congratulations madam!”
Very happy but still somewhat unsure, I rushed to a nearby clinic to do the test again -just to confirm that I was indeed pregnant. And that marked the beginning of my motherhood journey. The day I found out I was pregnant was actually on my birthday and to date, it’s the best birthday gift I have ever received in my life!
Purity during her pregnancy.
Then came the morning sickness, which I actually discovered doesn’t necessarily mean that you feel sick in the morning. There are days when I would feel sick all day and even into the night. I also had so much saliva in my mouth for some strange reason! Luckily my mom had warned me never to spit in public during pregnancy, so I refrained from doing so. What I would do was always carry some lemon and salt in my handbag. I would shamelessly lick the lemon or salt as I went about my business in town, and this helped control my nausea. Expectant women can get away with anything, right?
Then there were the cravings! Unfortunately, I mostly craved junk food –especially pizzas and burgers. I couldn’t survive a day without them. No wonder I gained more than 15kgs during pregnancy. Oh and I also craved lots of sugarcane! Chilled sugarcane. If only my fridge could speak it could tell the story. Other than that I must confess that my pregnancy was smooth. The only thing I had to learn to manage was my hectic life as a working-student-expectant mom. I somehow managed though.
On 17 December 2015, I had planned my day quite well: I was to first go for my clinic appointment then dash to Kenyatta University for my graduation rehearsal. After that, I was to go to the salon to do my hair in readiness for my graduation the following day. However, things didn’t pan out that way…
Do you know that morning sickness can be so severe, to the extent that one can be hospitalized? This is the story of Joan Mwaura, whose two pregnancies were plagued with really bad nausea and vomiting, a condition also known as Hyperemesis Gravidarum. This is her story:
“No words can express the overwhelming emotions when the doctor confirmed that my pregnancy test result was positive. I was 4 weeks pregnant! My husband and I were so excited. How would our baby look like? Boy or girl? I was over the moon and couldn’t wait to share this wonderful news with our parents and close friends.
Early the next day, I woke up feeling nauseous and I was vomiting. I reckoned it was morning sickness and knew I’d be able to handle it. I left for work. However, the frequency of vomiting increased and I even fainted on my way to work. In the days that followed, the nausea and vomiting feeling became quite unbearable and uncomfortable especially while at work and when using public transport.
I saw a doctor who gave me drugs, but they didn’t seem to help much. Nothing would get past my lips -not even water. In addition, everything and everyone around me smelled horrible, which made me vomit even more. I was left very dehydrated and completely stressed out.
In my 5th week of pregnancy, I was admitted in hospital. Initially the nurses were unsympathetic but this changed as they took time to understand that my case was genuine. The intravenous drips they put me on helped a bit, even though I was still unable to eat anything as I would feel so repulsed and..you guessed right -vomit. My days in the hospital were agonizing, with the days being so long and nights hard to bear. The only thing that kept me going was listening to the foetal doppler where I would hear my baby’s heartbeat. That’s what kept me going.
By my 7th week of pregnancy, I could barely stand or make it to the bathroom without help. During my hospital admission, I was ‘chauffeured’ around in a wheelchair until I became friends with the guards, cateress, and even the doctors. Actually one day we jokingly asked the manager to allow us to be paying rent rather than daily bed charges.
As the pregnancy progressed, my health became worse and no medical remedy was working. I was sick so often -in and out of hospital and ended up losing nearly half my weight. At 16 weeks pregnant, I was 39kgs, my veins had collapsed and the drips that would feed me were now connected to the veins in my feet, which was a painful experience. The doctors, realizing my system and organs were shutting down, suggested terminating the pregnancy on medical grounds because the pregnancy had become life-threatening.
While they were still considering this, by God’s intervention, another doctor in the team instead recommended expensive steroids that miraculously helped me to eat. They were also able to re-hydrate me. That was quite a relief! But this was not to last long though, as I would still continue to be admitted many times after that throughout the pregnancy. I was on bed rest for the better part of the pregnancy as any activity would trigger my severe vomiting.
Having embraced a lot of pain during the pregnancy, I was actually not afraid of labour. The only uncertainty was if the baby would be born via Caesarean section or vaginally. Thankfully though, my labour lasted for a few hours and our long-awaited baby Tashley was born on 27 March 2014. When I saw her, I felt the heavy and dark blanket of the pain and agony I had endured throughout the pregnancy go away.
Joan’s daughters.
That experience made me aware of the condition that I had – Hyperemesis Gravidarum. Before my pregnancy, I had never heard of it. I got to learn that it’s an extremely severe form of morning sickness that I had become a victim of.
Well, in January 2015, we realized that we were pregnant again! Tashley was barely 10 months old then! But if I thought the first pregnancy experience with severe morning sickness was bad, the second one was so much worse. In total, I spent about 3 months hospitalized cumulatively. At some point the doctors even recommended termination of the pregnancy just like the first time, but thankfully, it didn’t happen.
Being sick and admitted in hospital throughout the pregnancy made me miss some of Tashley’s milestones. I wasn’t there when she made her first steps; a major milestone that every mother desires to witness. However, amidst all the struggles, our second daughter Wema was born on 21 August 2015 at 36 weeks.
I thank God for my husband who offered his unwavering emotional, spiritual and material support. He took good care of me and was always praying for me. Hyperemesis Gravidarum is a very dreadful condition that I would not wish even on my worst enemy. There are a few lessons I learnt during those moments;
Spiritual and emotional support is extremely key. Hyperemesis Gravidarum can force you to lose the will to live easily.
Hyperemesis Gravidarum treatment can be quite expensive. We were rendered broke. Insurance’s maternity covers have very low limits. Financial support does really help.
Due to its rarity, many people have a lot of misconception and superstitions. A mother struggling with this condition needs to be careful about the options given to her.
Today, and every other day that I look at my daughters, I reflect on the incredible opportunity and joy that being a mother is, amidst the tons of challenges it has taken me to be one. My experience has also made me aware of the heavy costs that some women have to pay, in their journey to motherhood. I share my story today to encourage any mother currently struggling with this condition, to be strong and to hold on to their faith in God. I also hope to educate any woman who plans to get pregnant in the future, just so that she can be aware about Hyperemesis Gravidarum, to know that she can seek help about it, and that just like me, she too can have a positive story to share at the end of it all.”
Thank you Joan for sharing your encouraging story.
Are you a Hyperemesis Gravidarum survivor? Would you like to share your story? Email me on maryanne@mummytales.com and I’ll be in touch with you.
Mummy Talesby Maryanne W. Waweru is a platform dedicated to empowering its readers on different aspects of womanhood and motherhood. Read more motherhood experiences of Kenyan momshere. Connect with Mummy Tales on: FACEBOOK lYOU TUBE l TWITTER
