Featured Posts

Five selfish traits babies reveal in humans


Before I had a baby, I was never really a fan of babies, and have never really observed how grown up adults react to babies, apart from saying they are so cute, and wanting to carry or play with them. As for me, I just congratulate you, and walk away. When I saw a baby, I didn’t see a human being, I just saw a time-guzzling creature with limbs, and time was a commodity I never had to give to a creature whose communication I couldn’t grasp, lol. The only baby I ever cared for was the last born of my family.

Of course, that changed when I got pregnant. I began to take interest in the biology of creating a new human being, and when my baby arrived, I saw things from a totally different light. More importantly, I began to observe the way adults behave with babies, and handle baby issues. I found it amusing the things a new baby in a family can cause. Most importantly, I observed how self-serving adults could be when it comes to baby matters, and here are some.

1. Everyone wants the baby to look like them
The argument about who the baby looks like is always the most common. You start hearing things like he has my grandmother’s nose to he has my uncle in-law’s toe nails. Every family member desperately wants the baby to look like them or someone in their family, such that they share the baby’s body parts into pieces and attribute different parts to different family members. The worst case is when couples fight because

The Reality (or Myth) of a Well-Balanced Woman



Image result for multitasking woman
Source

Before I got married, and later had a child, I constantly heard about how a woman could not successfully balance the different aspects of her life, i.e. her career role, motherly role, wifely role, ministry role (if she is has one). It is said that at every point in time, at least, one aspect has to suffer for others to succeed.

I have listened to several views on this, especially with the rise of several interpretations of feminism. Some say it is possible, while others say it isn’t. Some ask how come men can do it, while women can’t. Some say it is possible, but very difficult, and a lot of sacrifices will have to be made.

After deliberating on this for a very long time, I came to my own conclusion last year, after having an eye-opening discussion with a friend. And this is it. Whenever there are varying viewpoints and philosophies flying around concerning a particular subject, that is when it is time for you to shut all external chaos and noise, and look for the truth. So I asked myself what God said concerning this issue. Is there anything in the word of God that says I can't have it all, and be a totally balanced woman? Yes, I know sacrifices will have to be made, but it is not an impossibility.

Most of the women mentioned in the Bible were not housewives. They were working women, and as far as was portrayed, well balanced women.  So why would I choose to accept man’s philosophy when God hasn't said so. We know that many people's opinions about this are based on the experiences that they and many other women have had. They said, it's the reality of the society we live in. But we also know that reality is relative. Your reality is not my reality

Last week was quite tight for me. By weekend, I found myself having to manage several fronts, and ensuring

If these people can do it, what is your excuse?

Hello everyone. How are we all doing? I’m very happy that the pregnancy series is over. I did not want my blog to become a woman blog, pregnancy blog or mummy blog. I have been trying to be very careful about this because it sometimes seems automatic for a blogger’s new reality to take over the content of their blog, especially when it is a lifestyle blog.

This week’s post is quite brief. I want to talk about the recent trend of people spamming blog comments section with talks of herbalists and hex men helping them get their husbands back or in extreme cases, killing someone like the screenshot below.


I've always thought that there's no way on earth that someone will fall for this, and patronize such people. But then again, if their marketing strategy wasn't working, and no one was patronizing them, they would have stopped this gimmick a long time ago. You might have come across them on your blog if you are also a blogger

Gone are the days when you had to enter one bush to go and look for one 'baba' to do one jazz or the other for you. You can find them right here online, no more traveling to a remote village. One would think that the advent of technology would make us wiser, and send these people into extinction, but no, they wax stronger daily and now have websites and Facebook pages.

I think the several native doctor comment on the blogosphere is by the same person though, just that the person keeps using different profiles and email addresses all the time. Some people have time sha.


Are you aware of anyone who has fallen for these kinds of people? How did it turn out in the end?

So the real question here is what is stopping you? If jazz men, whether real or fake, are innovating, and changing the the demand of the recent times, what is your excuse? Some of us think that our trade is not marketable online, or we have just plainly refused to adapt, but I say if the Babalawos can do it, then you shouldn't be dulling.

Don't Call me Mama (11) - Let's get real: Your child is not your achievement

This week officially marks the end of this series. If this were a book, then this week's edition is the epilogue which is always as important as the book.

After I had my baby, I debated whether I should tell the world I was now a mother, considering the fact that I never even told anyone I was pregnant neither did I take a picture of me being pregnant. Not only did I blog about having a baby, I went into details about how it went down. Sharing things like this puts you in a vulnerable position, where people can attack you, but in the end, I'm glad I did. Even if it just proved to me that the demanding motherhood role doesn't mean I should drop my writing pen, it was a good thing I did.



This week’s edition is something that some people might not see eye to eye with me on. It might even draw criticism from older women and even some young folks, but this issue has always been a burden on my heart since I was a single lady.

When I said don't call me mama in the prologue of this series, I was very serious. Apart from the fact that I didn't want to become old school, lol, it was mainly because I didn't want to lose my identity.

The origin of women being called "Mama Sade" for example is because in those days, women were being defined by their children, which to be honest, might not really be a bad thing in itself, many women were proud of, and it has continued till this day. My issue with this was

Don't Call me Mama (10) - Let me tell you something about E-PI-ZI-YO-TO-MEE

Happy new year to every single person reading this blog post. May the year 2018 bring you all your heart's desires and God's will for your life.

When I became pregnant, I read every single thing I could about pregnancy. I became a walking encyclopaedia. I read books, forums, apps, etc. As informed as I got myself to be, one thing I never paid much attention to was

EPISIOTOMY

I took it like one of those topics we skip in science subjects because we really don’t like them and hope they never show up in exam questions. And even when they show up, we find ways to avoid them because there are four other questions we can toy with, in the “answer three out of five” instruction we have been given. In our world, they don’t exist.

Because I did not take episiotomy seriously, it was not surprise that I never really prayed about it. To be honest, when I was informed that they would do an episiotomy on me because I was too small, I didn’t know the postpartum implications until they started taking place in my own body.



For those who don’t know, episiotomy is when the doctor tears you in your perineal region so they can bring the baby out easily. They usually perform this when the baby is too big to come through your vaginal area, and they don’t want the baby to tear you.

I consider episiotomy to be a caesarean section done on the vaginal area. Period!

After my labour, my epidural wore out, and a couple of hours later, I knew that there was something in the dictionary called PAIN. I was on heavy dose of pain medication every four hours. Urinating was hell, standing was hell, sitting was hell, I could not function without pain medication. I was literally looking at the clock to see when it was going to four hours from my last medication.

I got discharged almost two days from the day I walked into the hospital, and the degree of my suffering went to another level. I was in so much pain that I couldn’t use the other rest room, so I became constipated. Almost 48 hours after I walked out of the hospital, I went back to my doctors. I was in so much pain that I was crying as I explained my plight to the doctor. As far as I was concerned, my life was over.

Don't Call me Mama (9) - Labour is not that serious. Or is it?

Merry Christmas everyone. I hope we are all staying home, having a great time with family and friends. This fuel scarcity and traffic doesn’t have part 2, but we will still have a great time this holiday season because we choose to not let our spirit be down. I have a Christmas gift for you towards the end of this post

We are almost at the end of this series, and I’m very happy I went through with it. Without much talk, here goes my labour experience.

I always thought that when labour contractions start at home before you go to the hospital, the woman will be screaming and sweating and rolling on the floor, then she will stop and then start again. Or at least, if she doesn't scream, she will at least be moaning in pain

So continuing from last edition, when my labour started, I only knew because my contractions became more frequent. When the castor oil kicked in the contractions, I kept walking to and fro in a straight line in the living room for 2 hours and watching tv at the same. When the timing between contractions shortened, I knew I was definitely in labour. And when my mucus plug came out sometime later when I was on the phone, I knew there was no question about it. I casually said to the guy I was talking to on the phone

“I’m going into labour. You are the only one who knows now. Don’t tell the others yet. I will be a mother by this time tomorrow, and I will send you guys the picture of the baby.”

The guy was like “Oh wow, okay… congratulations.” I’m sure he must have been confused about what to say to me and how to respond because one minute we were discussing, and the next thing, I tell him I’m in labour, and then we keep discussing like nothing happened.  

After this time, I wanted to stay back home for one more hour just to be sure especially since I didn’t want to be charged for false labour at the hospital. I guess because I wasn’t screaming and rolling all over the floor, I didn’t want to take it too serious but my mum convinced me that it was time to go to the hospital. It was when I got into the car that I realised the reason I wasn’t feeling so much pain even though the contractions were very real.

I had gone through this process before but more severe and painful when I had the red degeneration of fibroid, so my pregnancy contractions were like child’s play compared to it.

Before I left for the hospital, I left a message for my husband about the development. My mother later said I shouldn’t have done that, so that I would just come out of nowhere and surprise him with a baby, lol. Apparently, she was just about to find out that my husband and I are gossip buddies number 1, and found it hard to keep things from each other. When I got to the hospital, the first nurse I met kept looking at me with suspicion like “girllll, you can’t be in labour right now.”

She kept asking questions “when is your due date, how severe is your pain, when was the last time you experienced contraction/pain?”

All I heard was “yeah right! Labour indeed. Madam, go home and don’t waste my time. You are not in labour.”

Anyway, she examined me. I expected that I was going to be about 1cm or 2cm dilated. My people, I was 5cm gone!

Don't Call me Mama (8) - How to manipulate your delivery date




I'll skip my journey to the US for delivery because there was nothing special about it except that they didn't know I was pregnant especially because of the kind of top I wore. I told the immigration officers though, and all I needed to provide was evidence that I had enough money to sort my bills out.

I moved from New York to Houston to have my baby and then to San Antonio one week after delivery to wait for six weeks before returning to Nigeria.

By week 38, I was so ready to pop but my baby wasn't ready to come out, I guess.

I'm on a regular cycle of 26 days so I had 2 estimates due dates, one for 28 day cycle and another for my own 26 day cycle, which was just 2 days before the 28 day cycle one.

When I was 39 weeks, I was still 1cm dilated which is what I had been for the previous 4 weeks so I was slightly worried cos I didn't want to be induced to labour. I kept hoping that I would go into labour somewhere between 39 and 40 weeks but it didn't happen.

I had been researching the use of castor oil to induce labour naturally and after many considerations, I decided to use it on my 26 day cycle EDD.

Now here's the deal about using castor oil to induce labour

Don't Call me Mama (7) - I solved the Mystery behind women eating their unborn children



“There’s a problem with your result.” The doctor said to my husband and me as he took an intense look at my medical report.

I was getting ready to leave the country to continue my pregnancy journey, and I had to take all necessary tests along with me even though the new doctor I was using said they would still take their own tests. I decided to take tests in Nigeria, so I would be armed and equipped with all my medical records.

“What could be the problem?” I thought. At least, I was sure I wasn’t HIV positive. I had read that much from the medical report.

“You said this is your first baby. Right?” The doctor continued.

“Yes sir.”

“And you have never been pregnant before.”

“Yes sir.” I said emphatically. “Even this pregnancy sef ehn, I was dashed by force.” I thought.

I think what I was hearing was, “If you have been pregnant before, now is the time to confess.”

“Your test says you are rhesus negative.”

"Okay, what is the implication of that?" I thought to myself'. I was silently wondering where this was leading.