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Is There any Shortcut to Potty Training a Boy?

By
Maryanne W. Waweru
-
8

Today we have a guest writer who shares her experiences of trying to potty train her 2 year old boy. A mother of two, Santina Nyagah offers insights into the differences between potty training a girl and potty training a boy. Read her story below.

“On the 1 st day of September 2009, I became a mother for the second time. I delivered a handsome little boy who goes by the name Jeremy, but whom I fondly call Energizer Bunny.

He is literally like the energizer bunny that never runs out and most of the time I can be seen running after him because he is either hanging from window grills, running outside our house butt naked, sending anything he gets his hands on flying to the ground (plates, phones, remote control etc).

Now you may think my house is a battle zone but that’s only a quarter of the time, for the rest of the time has me rolling on the floor in laughter as I try to understand this boy.

And one of the things that I am still puzzling over is how to get him to potty train ASAP.

My reason for saying this is that he seems to have taken longer than his sister to do so. It’s important to note that at this moment, diapers have risen by more than Ksh 300 per pack.

So having him potty trained will definitely go a great way towards easing my household budget.

For starters, I got a colorful potty, bought him some nice training pants and we were ready to go.

A journey that I thought would take a month or at most 2 months has not ended it is still ongoing.

Where is my patience…?

The first time I taught him how to pee, I decided to do it girl style.

He got excited about seeing his own pee in the potty and he would run and sit on it every 15 minutes even if there was nothing coming out.

But soon he got bored.

And he was back in diapers.

And I was frustrated.

(There is that word again…..patience)

So I did some research and found out that sometimes boys do take longer to get potty trained than girls.

It is then I realized I was trying too hard to be the perfect mum with a perfectly trained son and that I had to ease up on him and let him be.

I had to be …..patient

He would get ready to use his potty in his own time, not when I forced him to do it

Like my very wonderful obstetrician had told me when I was pregnant; “Each child, just like each pregnancy, is different.”

While I loved githeri while carrying my daughter and could not stand meat, with my son I had to have nyama choma and ice cream or else the world would come to an end.

While my daughter walked on her own for the first time when she turned one year, my son took his first steps at 15 months.

Each child is different.

Each child needs patience

I realized most of the frustration I felt about potty training my son was because I expected him to be like his sister.

Yet he was different. He was teaching me patience, I realized

The more frustrated, the less patient I got with him.

Jeremy is now back to wearing diapers and we are taking it one step at a time.

Sometimes he uses his potty at other times he misses it and I have to run for a mop and get rid of his tell tale signs on my floor.

But at least I am not pulling out my hair in frustration.

A few days ago he even started peeing standing up like a boy and I was quite excited.

See that virtue called patience worked.

Life as a mother is a learning curve that never plateaus and with each child you learn more but you still discovers so much more you never knew.

And one of the things I am learning is to be patient….”

Do you have any tips you can give our guest writer, or any experiences you had potty training your boy or girl that you can share with her and other moms? Feel free to do so in the comments section of this post.

Editor’s note: Santina is a nutritionist with her own recipe blog which she refers to as ‘The Culinary Adventures of a Very Cool Kenyan Mum!’

If you have any motherhood experiences and which you wouldn’t mind sharing with fellow moms, you can email me on maryanne@mummytales.com for more details.

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My High School Reunion (State House Girls)

By
Maryanne W. Waweru
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3

Sometime last month, I attended my high school reunion. Actually it was more like a get-together.

I had decided long before that I would attend this get-together because lately, I’ve come to realize the value of staying in touch with old friends. Especially the ones who we grew up with –the friends we had as toddlers and in our early childhood, in our pre-teen days, during puberty and adolescence (I forget –are these two the same thing?) during teenagehood and into our early twenties when we were blossoming into the beautiful ladies we are today. The friendships established during those days have over the years proven to be invaluable. I attended this get-together because I wanted to catch up with former classmates whom I hadn’t seen in over a decade and a half. And some who I hadn’t seen in as many years. Some who I hadn’t seen in months. And some like Irene Were who I see every so often.

We met for a late lunch and it was a good five or so hours spent, remembering our good old days of fighting for plates (why oh why hadn’t the school developed a better system for this?), cooks and their drama (Malova), the school driver and his arrogant stunts making us sprint after the bus and hang onto it’s door just like matatu touts (Mjomba) remembering the school matron (who still owes some ladies their pocket money which they used to give her for safekeepingJ), good ol’ nurse Jane, Aunty the photographer, chief and his pontos, the sale of Britania bikiz for school clubs, dipping crisps in tomato sauce, prefects who would make us shit in our pants (Jean Waithaka, Brenda Amisi et.al)….and ofcourse the ever terrifying deputy headmistress Ika2. I hope wherever Ika2 is she has learnt how to smile and not have that stoneface of hers that used to make our goose pimples stand in attention. We had good laughs as we remembered the punishments we did and mused over the naughty stuff we did and our numerous incidents of truancy.

We also took a moment to remember those who have already left us –RIP Donna Otambo.

But most importantly, we shared life’s lessons. We’ve matured because we were able to candidly talk about how our lives have been, the mistakes we’ve made and the successes we’ve achieved –both in our personal lives and in our careers. The honesty with which we discussed our lives, our relationships, our children and our futures was a reflection of how much we’ve grown. Some narrations were heart-rending, some were amusing, some made me ponder deeply. But their common denominator was that in life, we deal with whatever comes our way and we move on –making the best of every situation.

Something that stood out from our get together is that our personalities never change. Years may pass and life can toss us in all directions, but our personalities remain the same.

I noticed that those who used to be reserved and quiet in high school are still the same today. The ones who were chatterboxes ni wale wale. The ones who used to entertain us with their humorous tales are still the same. Reminds me of the African proverb that says “When rain beats on a leopard it wets it, but rain does not wash out its spots.”

 

 

 

 

 

My take is that if your school ever organizes a reunion, make time to attend it. The close friendships established during high school are lifelong –and genuine if you ask me. Evidently so because I’ve noticed that almost all my pals who’ve gotten married have had their former high school mates as their best maids or in their lineup. I am no exception, as I had Irene Kimani as my bestmaid, with Irene Were as one of my maids. And then Nancy Lwosi was my MC and I must say she did a fantastic job –throwing in a few high school memories and jabs at me as she MCeed the wedding. Friends that I met in high school and with whom we’ve maintained very close bonds with. And not forgetting Emily Kinuthia (nee Kawinzi) who forms part of my girl crew.

 

Meanwhile, congrats to Charity Munene (who coincidentally was my classmate right from Pre-unit in Nairobi Primary School all through to form 4 in Stato) on the birth of her lovely princess –born on the same day we were having the reunion.

And thank you Myra Mukulu for your tireless efforts in making the reunion happen. Hope to see more of us in this year’s gathering.

Cheers.

Here’s My New Year’s Resolution

By
Maryanne W. Waweru
-
6

How’s your new year coming along? It’s good? Hope it continues that way all year long.

Mine is just fine, I’m still on holiday so mambo vipi? Mambo sawa.

So this morning as we were having breakfast with Kitty’s dad I asked him if he had made any New Year’s resolutions and if yes, would he mind sharing them?

He responded by saying he never makes any New Years’ resolutions.

“If you decide to do something then just do it, you don’t need a special day for you to make resolutions”.

That was an anticlimax response, not quite what I was expecting but then again, it kinda made sense.

Then there was a long pregnant pause and I kept looking at him, waiting. I was waiting expectantly, my eyes fixated on him. Then I waited some more.

Finally he spoke, the pregnant silence and expectant waiting having lasted about 5 seconds.

Him: Have you made any resolutions yourself?

Me: YES! I thought you’d never ask!

Another long pregnant pause.

Okay now I was getting frustrated. Couldn’t he just ask me what my resolutions were already?

Finally he spoke.

Him: And…..

Me: (very excitedly) my resolution this year is to hold a bash for Kitty on his first birthday.

Him: (with a duh! look) That is NOT a resolution.

Me: (confused) it’s not?

Him: Shaking his head and proceeding to bite into his slice of bread.

Me: Oh well, atleast I tried…

Him: Babes si you’re a joker….

Me: Grinning sheepishly

Him: Smiling

Anyway, the reason I tried to make Kitty’s birthday party as a resolution is that I have been unsuccessful, in previous years, in my attempts to stick to any New Year resolutions. Some of which included:

  • I will only eat chips and quarter (fried kuku) from a fast food restaurant once every four months. Now honestly, is that even possible? Especially if you work in Nairobi’s CBD? I achieved 0% success on that one.
  • To stay in shape and keep fit, I vowed to hit the gym for some serious workouts no less than 4 times a week. I made that resolution in 2008 and four years later, I’ve still never set foot inside a gym. Once again, I achieved 0% success on that one.
  • That I would go to church every Sunday without fail. I achieved about 50% success on that one.
  • There’s a year I made the resolution to thoroughly enjoy myself that year –on my last lap as a twenty something year old (mkondo wa mwisho). May I say that I achieved 150% success on that one?
  • And so on and so forth.

I guess I wasn’t successful because of two main reasons:

One, that they were unrealistic –for my kind of lifestyle that is and two, I just wasn’t committed enough and that’s why I kept making excuses.

So this year, it feels better disguising my resolutions as ‘Things I intend to do in 2012’ and holding Kitty’s first birthday party is top on that list (you know –the parties where the parents have all the fun, it’s all about the parents and their friends and it’s NEVER about the child).

Photo: hoboken411.com

So what about you? Have you made any New Year’s resolutions? How’s the going so far? You think you’ll succeed? Or have you failed or worse, quit in one or two already?

Remembering Christmas When I Was a Kid

By
Maryanne W. Waweru
-
8

This is my first Christmas as a mom. No doubt I’m quite excited, and grateful to God for bestowing me this blessing.

And, it’s got me remembering my Christmas’s as a young girl.

Christmas when I was a kid used to begin quite early. About a week before 25th, I remember my two brothers and I would humbly approach my mum and ask her for permission to decorate the house with ‘Christmas decorations’. Ofcourse, being the youngest, I used to be the one to do the actual asking. And when permission was granted, my brothers would happily scamper outside on a scavenge mission for Christmas trees –which meant haphazardly pruning down neighbors overgrown fig trees. Then we would decorate the tree with those mushaino shainos, balloons, Christmas tree lights and Christmas cards the family had received. We would then hang the paper decorations and baloons all around the sitting room wall (but careful not to interfere with mum’s money-maker plant located at the corner of the house (every house had those ones, right?).

And all week long, we would feel so good waiting for the actual day. I donno about you, but we would find it very difficult to sleep on Christmas Eve as the excitement would be all too much. On Christmas Eve, mum would allow us to sleep at whatever time our weary little bodies would shut down. We would spend it beating stories, singing Christmas carols and marvelling at the (now half withered) Christmas tree.

Christmas carols

Then come Christmas morning -a day that I always thought would never arrive! Especially because it meant that I would get to wear my new dress. Oh the anticipated joy! And it was always a dress that my mum had sewn for me. For some reason, she never preferred to buy me a
ready-made dress, but instead she always chose to personally tailor one for me. She would begin taking my measurements weeks before Christmas, and then during her off days from work, patiently sew it piece by piece. My most memorable dress was a polka dotted blue dress she made for me. I always wondered why she would spend all that time sewing a dress while it was so much easier to buy one. But now I think I do. Taking time to personally stitch something for your child is so precious. During my free moments as a mom, I’ll be knitting cardigans for Kitty –even if it’ll take me a year to complete one.

And as we prepared for church on Christmas day, mum would play Jim Reeve’s songs on the radio, and we would sing along making the Christmas spirit all so nice. And then the family would walk to church. Dad, mum, sister, two brothers and I. I remember the feeling of
walking around in a new dress all too well. The walk to church always made me feel like a little princess, more so because my mum would have held up my hair in a ponytail (with a new hairband), then added onto my ears white clip-on plastic earrings (oh yes!). On that day, she would also have allowed me to use her sophisticated body lotion, Lady Gay. Now add on the white pumps, and I felt indomitable as I sashayed my way into St. Phillips ACK Church Jericho.

Once inside the church, the Waweru  brood would sit at around the fourth or fifth pew from the front. It’s as though families had ‘specific’ seating spots. Ours was the fourth or fifth row, right behind the Otiende’s.

Upon our return home, mum would prepare a sumptuous meal of pilau, chapatis and kuku kienyeji and other delicacies.

After lunch, my brothers and I would then jitokelezea outside alongside other neighborhood kids, me with every intent of displaying my new dresses to them, and they in turn with the same exact specific intent as mine. The boys never bothered about new clothes as they were more focused on playing the football game of  ‘one touch’.

And as the sun set, none of us ever wanted to believe the day was over. The one day we had been looking forward to all year was gone –just like that.

Anyway, that was how Christmas was marked as a kid. But today I’m all growned up and it’s my time to start making Christmas memorable for my family, and specifically Kitty. So what will I do for Kitty on this his first Christmas? I’m still trying to think.

And as I do so, I wish you a merry Christmas and a blessed 2012.

When my Girlfriends Visited Kitty

By
Maryanne W. Waweru
-
2

Last Monday, it being a public holiday, my girl crew decided to pay Kitty and I a visit.

Now, I know every woman has a girl crew, but my girlfriends are just the best. We’re a group of 9 of us, all having met in campus almost a decade and a half ago. When we were fresh-faced innocent teenagers, and we’ve been together through the years, till today when we’re fresh-faced hot funky young women (did you just say a big ’HA’!’?).

We’ve been there for each other through all the ups and downs that characterize the life of many a young woman, and I’m glad to have been surrounded by such lovely women all through the years. And these ladies are full of so much humor and (positive) drama you wouldn’t believe it. Anyone who knows us knows exactly what I’m talking about.

We call ourselves the ‘mkondo wa mwisho mamaz’, and the genesis of that name is a story for another day, a story I will be sure to tell you someday. But the year 2008 has just got to be the most memorable year for us, the year when we literally painted Nairobi (and Mombasa) towns red, we had so much fun together I tell you we were intoxicated by barrels and barrels of the full mwenjoyo.

We also refer ourselves as wanamaresh, and that, dear friends, is a whole different story for yet another day. But it has all do with one crazy ssenga called Aunty Najjat. I’m sure a couple of you have heard about her. Or encountered her. I don’t know if she still operates in this Nairobi as an invited guest to bridal showers, but we had the most dramatic encounter with her in 2008. She a crazy woman that one is I assure you.

Anyway, we spent Monday afternoon together at mine, and one thing is always certain during such times. The stories told usually flow one after another and with such speed, comparable only to a furious waterfall.

Our tales are usually too many, too hilarious and too entertaining. Many of them true, many of them fake, and many of them well…just stories. There are those among us who have the gift of garb and the gift of entertainment. While there are those of us who just enjoy sitting back, listening and laughing it all. And then there are those of us who restore sanity in the group. We’re a mix of different personalities, making us all a perfect blend.

Have a look at some photos from Monday, a day very well spent. (Clearly you can see I’m not a good photographer like Baba Kitty).

I love you girls and thanks -for everything,

Meanwhile, there will be a reunion for State House Girls class of 96′ tomorrow at Carnivore at 3pm, coordinated by Myra Mukulu. Mimi, nitakuwepo. Je wewe?

And to plagiarize Jeff Koinange, ‘SPREAD THE WORD’ because it will be SMMMMMOOKIN! Aaiihhh Jeff na yeye surely!

Remembering the Day I got Stuck in Traffic

By
Maryanne W. Waweru
-
8

The other day, I had the misfortune of being stuck in traffic for about 3.5 hours while headed home from work. A journey that usually takes me no more than half an hour this time took 3.5 hours.

I was at Uhuru Highway, and for the better part of the 3.5 hours, I was between that Intercontinental junction and that junction that leads to parliament. A stretch of about 100 meters. I don’t know why we were stuck in traffic for that long. So anyway as I was sitting there in traffic, my chest was full as I have a certain schedule as to when I should express or breastfeed. It was way past my scheduled expressing time, so I kept worrying that by the time I got home, my breastmilk would have converted to yoghurt.

But the yoghurt issue was not my major worry. What was causing me untold agony was the fact that I was forced to do something that I never like doing while in traffic. Something that causes me total mental anguish. And that is turning off my engine. Oh, how I dread doing so!

Now, common fuel-saving sense dictates that one turns off the engine when the car is not in motion, such as when traffic is at a standstill. And I know that. I don’t dispute it at all.

But one of the worst fears I have is that of the engine refusing to turn on again when the traffic starts moving. Oh my, the nightmarish feeling that it gives me? Wacha tu! I’m a woman, and the possibility of such an incident usually scares the living chickens out of me.

Usually how it happens is that I refuse to turn off the engine even when I’ve not moved an inch for 10 minutes, all the while cursing why we’re not moving because it might just force me to turn off the engine because  my fuel will run out. And the mere thought of me running out of fuel is even more scarier, so when that thought crosses my mind, I instantly turn off the engine -only for me to realize that all the while my car was the only one whose engine was still running.

And now with the engine off and bored with my own company, the radio becomes my savior. And I enjoy the music until the time I spot, from a far distance some motion ahead of me, meaning the traffic has began moving. And so I sit up and start interceding and praying for God’s mercies upon my life, asking him to please make my engine start.

I remember one time I was happily enjoying the Sundowner show on KBC hosted by John Obongo Jnr when traffic started moving. So when I turned on the ignition, all I heard was a clicking sound. A weak click. The engine was dead. As dead as a dodo, whatever a dodo is.

Please Jesus, this just cannot be, I thought, as my heart went into full panic mode. The time was around 6.45pm and I was over there near University way roundabout. With my palms now all sweaty and my hands shivering, I tried to turn on the engine again, but it was the same clicking sound. I even tried to dance around in my seat, hoping that my shaking movements would reawaken the engine. But nothing.

Meanwhile, the drivers behind me were hooting endlessly. Which was not good because they were making me more confused and distracting me from trying to focus on my prayers and my engine trouble. I exerted all my mental energies into the engine, and began chanting:
“engine please start, engine please start, engine please start….but nothing doing.

I was scared stiff, confused, sad, heartbroken and just basically devastated. My eyes were almost tearing from my state of helplessness. And other motorists passing by and saying; “madam ondoa jam” were not helping ne much. Others were saying: “madam just push the car aside” as they passed me before speeding away. Aki si people can be insensitive sometimes? Now how do I push the car aside –alone? Surely!

Since I was near the roundabout, I saw a cop hastily coming towards me with his hands animated in the air bellowing “ni nani  analeta jam hapa?” God, I almost cried because I thought Mr. Policeman was going to yell at me or beat me.

But one look at my teary eyes and the completely helpless state of this damsel in distress made his toughness instantly melt away -just like ice on fire.

Mr. Policeman hurriedly mobilized a few passers by to help push the car as I jump started it. Thank God the car was a manual. Problem was I didn’t know how to jump start it because I understand you have to be at a certain gear to do so. But not to worry because Mr. Policeman  quickly told me to get out of the car, he jumped inside it and ordered the passers by to push the car while he jump started it (I don’t even know if cops are allowed to do so). And as he did so, he told me: “sasa wewe control traffic.”

Hahaha, he was a cop with a funny bone that one. Imagine me controlling traffic at the University way roundabout!

Within seconds, my engine was up and running, and off to go I was ready. The happiness I felt could only be compared to what I felt when I completed my last paper in Form 4. I was so pleased with Mr. Policeman, I wanted to plant a kiss on his cheek. But public decorum prevailed so I restrained myself.

And then in this new Kenya of ours, nowadays we don’t offer bribes, but because I really wanted to show my appreciation to the cop by not buying him chai (because chai is a bribe), I told him that I wanted to buy him airtime (because airtime is a sign of appreciation).

But he declined my offer, telling me that he was helping me because he goes by the ‘utumishi kwa wote’ moto of the police force. Aaaawwww, aint that just so sweet?

Who Knew What a ‘Butternut’ Is?

By
Maryanne W. Waweru
-
8

As I began weaning Kitty, one of the foods that was ranked highly among the first foods to wean baby with was butternut.

Now, I didn’t know what butternut was. What I thought butternut was, was a kind of nut. And not an ordinary kind of nut. By ordinary kind of nut I mean the usual nuts that you and I are used to –such as njugu karanga, coconuts or macadamia nuts. But because I had never heard of butternut, I thought it was in the same family of almonds, chest nuts, hazel nuts, pistachio nuts, pine nuts, walnuts etcetera etcetera. The kinds of nuts that are found in those upmarket shopping stores, malls and grocery stores located in the leafy suburbs.

The weaning information I reviewed talk so highly of butternut, but because butternuts were out of my immediate reach, I swiftly moved on to weaning Kitty on foodstuffs that were locally available and within my reach.

So one day while I was passing time twiddling my thumbs waiting for someone within the precints of a shopping mall in the neighborhood, I strolled into a supermarket and began window shopping. And as I was doing so, I spotted a small jar of food and on it was a label written ‘butternut’. And it was selling at Ksh 50. Alas! How lucky was I? Whatever nut this butternut stuff was, here it was –in a very local supermarket and at a pocket friendly price! Yaaaay!

So I quickly picked one jar and made a mental note that if Kitty took to the butternut well, I would dash back to the supermarket and clear the shelf of all butternut, lest they run out of stock or the prices suddenly go up.

So when I got home, I didn’t give him the butternut just yet. I kept waiting for a good time to serve him this exotic food. I wanted it to be at a time when I was home and had all the time to concentrate and read the label carefully (because it had a long list of nutritional contents mentioned), then give him a taste, and watch out for his reaction. Most likely on an easy Sunday morning.

For two weeks I didn’t touch it because I was always busy over the weekends and I didn’t want distractions while introducing this new food with such a lovely sounding name to Kitty.

Now, I usually buy my groceries from a small kibanda near home, and while the vendor is slicing up my vegetables, we usually engage in the usual idle banter that Kenyans like when there is nothing to talk about. Politics is the most popular topic at such times, and if you want to create conversation, just start a sentence with: Raila, Ruto, Kibaki, Kalonzo, Uhuru, Syokimau….and the tongues will wag endlessly.

So anyway, on this day I didn’t feel like talking politics with the vendor, and so as he was slicing the spinach, I took one of the fruits that I had always seen but had never known it’s name.

Me: Na sasa hii ndio fruit ndio munaitanga nini?

Him: Hiyo ni butternut.

The mind is a really funny thing I tell you. It can really play tricks on your psychology. Just because I had been preoccupied and dreaming about butternut in recent days, now I was also hearing my own things.

Me: Ati inaitwanga?

Him: Hiyo inaitwa butternut. Kwanza ni mzuri sana kwa katoto ka miezi sita hivi.

As he was finishing the sentence, my jaw was almost dropping to the ground and my heart was now beating very fast.

Me: Ati inaitwanga nini tena?

Him: (now getting impatient) Haiya kwani huamini? Si ni butternut!

I collapsed.

When I came to (in my mind that is), I asked him: Na unaiuzanga aje?

Him: Ni 30 bob.

You’ve got to be kidding me. I was very confused. Why?

First, the butternut is no nut at all. Kumbe butternut is malenge! Ala!

Secondly, I have been seeing that ‘fruit’ everywhere there are vegetable vendors, but I had always assumed it’s this kind of strange fruit that I wasn’t interested in trying. I always thought it was a kind of watermelon or soft coconut something like that.

Thirdly, it was 30 bob? The tiny butternut jar I had in the house was for 50 bob, and this 30 bob one could make 4 times of that jar. As in the quantity of that 50 bob jar was equivalent to 30 bob divide by 4 (I hope I’m making sense though clearly you can tell how well my mathematics grades were in school).

I immediately dashed home, prepared the butternut and fed it to Kitty. And he loves it lots!

Butternut squashOh well, I’m learning new things day by day. Some of them the most obvious things that are not so obvious afterall. The good thing though about this whole experience is that Kitty gets to eat butternut that is all freshly prepared. And most importantly -is friendly on my wallet!

Meanwhile, the commercially packed butternut in the small jar still remains unopened.  Your guess on whether I will give it to Kitty is as good as mine.

© Photographer: Sarsmis | Agency: Dreamstime.com

Doula’s in Kenya: Should This Expectant Mom Hire One?

By
Maryanne W. Waweru
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1

A Mummy Tales reader, 8 months pregnant recently asked me about a doula as she is contemplating using one. She was wondering if it is worth getting one. But she is not alone in her enquiry, as it seems that an increasing number of pregnant women (especially those in Nairobi) have been asking the same.

But before I go on, who or what is a doula in the first place, you might be asking.

Well, I asked around and was referred to Esther, a doula practicing in Nairobi and this is the information she gave me:

The word doula has its origins in Greece, and means ‘a woman who serves’. The word is today used to refer to a trained and experienced professional who provides continuous physical, emotional and informational support to the mother before, during and just after birth. Or one who provides practical and emotional support during the postpartum period.

In Kenya, you can find two types of doula’s:

The first is a birth doula. This is one who works with the expectant woman during pregnancy and during labour. After birth, this doula will usually do a follow up visit at the new mom’s home to ensure that both mum and baby are doing fine and are well settled.

When the pregnant woman is in labor, birth doulas rely on techniques such as massage, aromatherapy, visualization, positive positioning, emotional support, encouragement and nurturing to help with the process.

 

The doula is also an ally for the woman’s spouse or partner, who may have little or no experience with the labour process and may find it anxiety provoking. Often, the doula will help the partner find ways to support the labouring woman. A good doula supports, encourages and educates the father or partner during labor, rather than replacing them.

The second type of doula in Kenya is the postnatal/ postpartum doula.

Such a doula comes in once the mum and baby are discharged from hospital. They educate the new mom on lactation techniques, and address any breastfeeding challenges such as sore nipples, engorged breasts and nipple rejection. This doula also educates the new mother on issues surrounding expressing and storage of breast milk.

The doula educates the new mum on management of colic, infant soothing and coping skills. She also guides her on how to properly bath and massage the newborn. She also offers guidance on infant feeding and baby nutrition basics.

Esther can be found on 0722 776 210 or 0734 776 210.

Incase you didn’t know who a doula is, atleast now you have an idea. So back to the Mummy Tales reader who is 8 months pregnant and wondering if she should use one. Did you use a doula when you were pregnant or when you were a new mom? Would you use a doula if you were in labor? Is a doula necessary when you have your loved one/s there with you? Is a doula worth it? Your thoughts?

Is it Safe to Have an X-ray When Pregnant?

By
Maryanne W. Waweru
-
1
Can x-rays done on a pregnant woman cause any harm to her unborn baby?
I’ve just come across a news item in today’s newspaper (The People pg 5), which says a baby with severe deformities has been born in Kilifi District Hospital -the second such case in two months. Nurses say the rare abnormalities could be due to ‘many x-rays’.
This piqued my interest on the matter, especially because many a time, we women don’t know we are are pregnant until when we are weeks or even months into it. And during this time, we might have a medical condition that might require us to undergo an x-ray. It’s always good to be informed.
So here is some information that sheds light on this issue. (This information is by the Food and Drug Administration, The American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists, and the American College of Radiology).
X-rays, Pregnancy and You
Pregnancy is a time to take good care of yourself and your unborn child. Many things are especially important during pregnancy, such as eating right, cutting out cigarettes and alcohol, and being careful about the prescription and over-the-counter drugs you take. Diagnostic x-rays and other medical radiation procedures of the abdominal area also deserve extra attention during pregnancy.
Diagnostic x-rays can give the doctor important and even life-saving information about a person’s medical condition.  But like many things, diagnostic x-rays have risks as well as benefits. They should be used only when they will give the doctor information needed to treat you.
You’ll probably never need an abdominal x-ray during pregnancy. But sometimes, because of a particular medical condition, your physician may feel that a diagnostic x-ray of your abdomen or lower torso is needed. If this should happen – don’t be upset. The risk to you and your unborn child is very small, and the benefit of finding out about your medical condition is far greater. In fact, the risk of not having a needed x-ray could be much greater than the risk from the radiation. But even small risks should not be taken if they’re unnecessary.
You can reduce those risks by telling your doctor if you are, or think you might be, pregnant whenever an abdominal x-ray is prescribed. If you are pregnant, the doctor may decide that it would be best to cancel the x-ray examination, to postpone it, or to modify it to reduce the amount of radiation. Or, depending no your medical needs, and realizing that the risk is very small, the doctor may feel that it is best to proceed with the x-ray as planned.   In any case, you should feel free to discuss the decision with your doctor.
Young plus-sized pregnant woman in red dress

What Kind of X-Rays Can Affect the Unborn Child?

During most x-ray examinations – like those of the arms, legs, head, teeth, or chest – your reproductive organs are not exposed to the direct x-ray beam. So these kinds of procedures, when properly done, do not involve any risk to the unborn child. However, x-rays of the mother’s lower torso – abdomen, stomach, pelvis, lower back, or kidneys – may expose the unborn child to the direct x-ray beam. They are of more concern.

What Are the Possible Effects of X-Rays?

There is scientific disagreement about whether the small amounts of radiation used in diagnostic radiology can actually harm the unborn child, but it is known that the unborn child is very sensitive to the effects of things like radiation, certain drugs, excess alcohol, and infection. This is true, in part, because the cells are rapidly dividing and growing into specialized cells and tissues. If radiation or other agents were to cause changes in these cells, there could be a slightly increased chance of birth defects or certain illnesses, such as leukemia, later in life.
It should be pointed out, however, that the majority of birth defects and childhood diseases occur even if the mother is not exposed to any known harmful agent during pregnancy. Scientists believe that heredity and random errors in the developmental process are responsible for most of these problems.

What If I’m X-Rayed Before I Know I’m Pregnant?

Don’t be alarmed. Remember that the possibility of any harm to you and your unborn child from an x-ray is very small. There are, however, rare situations in which a woman who is unaware of her pregnancy may receive a very large number of abdominal x-rays over a short period. Or she may receive radiation treatment of the lower torso. Under these circumstances, the woman should discuss the possible risks with her doctor.

How You Can Help Minimize the Risks

  • Most important, tell your physician if you are pregnant or think you might be. This is important for many medical decisions, such as drug prescriptions and nuclear medicine procedures, as well as x-rays. And remember, this is true even in the very early weeks of pregnancy.
  • Occasionally, a woman may mistake the symptoms of pregnancy for the symptoms of a disease. If you have any of the symptoms of pregnancy – nausea, vomiting, breast tenderness, fatigue – consider whether you might be pregnant and tell your doctor or x-ray technologist (the person doing the examination) before having an x-ray of the lower torso. A pregnancy test may be called for.
  • If you are pregnant, or think you might be, do not hold a child who is being x-rayed. If you are not pregnant and you are asked to hold a child during an x-ray, be sure to ask for a lead apron to protect your reproductive organs. This is to prevent damage to your genes that could be passed on and cause harmful effects in your future descendants.
  • Whenever an x-ray is requested, tell your doctor about any similar x-rays you have had recently. It may not be necessary to do another. It is a good idea to keep a record of the x-ray examinations you and your family have had taken so you can provide this kind of information accurately.
  • Feel free to talk with your doctor about the need for an x-ray examination. You should understand the reason x-rays are requested in your particular case.

The above information is found on this link.

Photographs: Dreamstime.com

The above information can be found here http://1.usa.gov/uVGrHD

Pray, What Exactly is this Alabastron Business?

By
Maryanne W. Waweru
-
22

Ummm, what exactly is this alabastron kenya thing? Anyone know?

Over the last couple of weeks, this alabastron name has been flying all around me –left, right and center. And yet I still have no clue what it’s all about. And so do many other women around me –my friends, relatives, colleagues etc.

One of my friends talks highly about it. She talks about it very passionately. But yet I still don’t get it. And neither do most of our other mutual friends.

Is it a bible study class? Is it a self-help course? Is it a support group-workshop? Is it a networking forum? Is it a retreat? Is it a movement? Is it a crusade? Is it for all women or is it exclusive to a certain group of women? Is it for working women? Is it for married women? Is it for mothers? Is it for women of a certain age group? Must you pay to attend it? Is it recommended that all women do alabastron?

Pray, just what exactly is this alabastron thing?

Now those who have had interaction with alabastron vow that you become a new woman after you attend the class/group/workshop/retreat/movement/bonding sessions (I don’t know what to refer to it as). That you look at life differently. That you see everything in a new perspective. That your whole life changes. That your persona feels refreshed. That you learn to deal with many ‘issues’.

That you become a better wife. That you become a better mother. That you become a better daughter, sister, friend, colleague etc.

And when I ask how, when I ask what exactly it is that is taught or shared in alabastron that makes you a better woman, I am told that I just need to attend the alabastron class/group/workshop/retreat/bonding/movement to ‘understand’ it.

See why I’ve still never gotten it? I’m yet to get someone who will break it down for me kinaga-ubaga. Someone to explain it to me as though I were a two year old.

Now, I have never attended an alabastron for two main reasons:

–          I have never been convinced enough to dig into my pocket and pay for something that I don’t quite understand.

–          I’m not one to attend self-help stuff.

PS: Anyone who knows me knows I’m an avid reader. I read lots of newspapers, magazines, journals and lots of novels (fiction novels), biographies, the Bible etc. Actually I’m always reading one thing or another. Even in traffic I read. But anyone who knows me knows I don’t do self-help books. Not by the longest shot. My whole essence has just never resonated well with self-help stuff. Hard as I try (and beleive me I  do try) I don’t get past the preface. And if I really really do because the person who has gifted me with such a book has insisted and I feel obliged to, I don’t get past page 2.

I prefer reading about personal experiences –ones that are exclusively written and not inserted or camouflaged in self-help books.

So my understanding about alabastron right now is that it’s a self-help kind of thing. And many of my friends (who don’t understand it) also think it’s a self-help thing too.

Maybe I’m ignorant. Maybe someone hasn’t explained it to me well. Maybe I’m biased because of my attitude towards anything self-help. But that’s just me.

What I know though is that with alabastron –either you get it or you don’t. The ones who have gone through it are all praise for it (I’m still yet to understand why). And the ones who don’t get it (and we’re many) are yet to be convinced it’s worth spending anything -either money or time on it.

Oh well. *sighs heavily*

Image: Granitetheatre

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