All posts filed under: Love. Life.

Lessons on Loving, Lessons in Living.

Oh, Baby! My 3rd Pregnancy: Good, Hard & Worthy

Published by Osemhen

For the longest time, I debated hitting “Publish” on this post. Until now, only my closest friends had any idea about how my pregnancy progressed, and it all felt too deeply personal to share. I was only able to tell it by writing in the 2nd person. I am immensely grateful to all the women whose pregnancy stories helped me make sense of what I was going through and gave me hope that it would all be okay. And so I’m telling this story. Because there’s another mom out there frantically Googling, and if I can somehow help, then it would be my greatest privilege. When you find out you are pregnant, you let yourself feel only the slightest shock and panic. After all, you’re a veteran at this thing, right? Yes, you aren’t in the best of health to begin with. Your iron levels are low and you are borderline underweight from the stress of school. Still, this is your 3rd pregnancy. The first two were relatively smooth, you don’t expect this one to …

This Is How I Turn 30.

Published by Osemhen

The journey to 30 starts weeks, months before September 15th. There is brooding involved, as expected. I brood with books for company. Too many to count here. But there is “Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine”, and “Love Lives Here”, and a book on peak performance whose name I don’t remember (and am too lazy to google right now). This book convinces me to take the plunge and delete my social media accounts. I start with Facebook. Then Twitter. Then Instagram. 11 years of memories and identity carefully archived, and then summarily removed from the Internet. It doesn’t bring the catharsis I hope. But it is a good first step. An old friend reaches out on Google Chat (who uses that?!) to ask how my writing is doing. I tell him what seems like the truth. That it’s dead for now. But even I don’t believe it. **** In 2017, I followed a colleague from work who volunteers with St Vincent De Paul to the Island Maternity Hospital. She was going to check on a young …

Does Your Wife Have Natural Hair?

Published by Osemhen

Congratulations! You have either convinced a naturalista to become your wife Or your wife has decided to stop putting relaxers in her hair. Either way, you have become a member of a club few know exist until they join it. Welcome to the Husbands of Natural Haired Wives Association (HNHWA, pronounced huhn-wah). You will meet your fellow HNHWs at the natural hair meet-ups your wife might on occasion drag convince you to attend. You will also meet them in church when the wives step aside to discuss twist-outs and salon recommendations. And maybe, one day, you’ll meet a fellow HNHW in the hair product aisle of your neighbourhood supermarket. You will recognize his bemusement at the difference between Cantu Shea Butter and Shea Moisture. You will recommend he buy both to avoid “trouble in his marriage”. Here are a few other helpful tips you should know. No, your wife is not haemorrhaging from a huge gash on her scalp. That red/brown stain on your pillow case/white tee-shirt/car head-rest is henna that has bled off her hair. It …

When I Say I Love You

Published by Osemhen

So I listened to this interesting video today And the rabbi essentially makes the point that many times, when we say we love someone (or something), we actually mean that we love what that person (or thing) does for us. E.g. I love fried chicken. So I kill a chicken and fry it. Does that sound like love of chicken or love of the taste of fried chicken? He extends the analogy to “falling in love”. When a woman falls in love, does she love the man or she loves how he makes her feel? It sounds cold, doesn’t it? I love this man because we make (or people say we make) a cute couple, and we share mutual interests, and have compatible life philosophies, and it makes financial sense to me to split living expenses and child-rearing costs? Bonus points for the fact that I enjoy his company and the gratification that comes with being married in a society that places value on these things. Fish love. And I’m wondering if fish-love is such a …

The Unglamorous Life of Working Parents

Published by Osemhen

You make it seem all glamorous. It being “working motherhood”. I was chatting with one of my friends and we were discussing my prayer intentions. I admitted being overwhelmed by my life and asking for God’s help with work-life balance. And she said, “You make it seem all glamorous but I’m sure it has its iffy spots.” “Iffy spots”? Understatement. Parenting. Drool. Dirty, drooping diapers. Reading said diaper contents like they’re tea leaves, foretelling your child’s health. Why so orange? Right, he ate carrots last night. What’s that?? Is that an almond? Oh, Lord. Half-eaten bowls of oatmeal on the kitchen counter. Torn classics because the kid likes my books better than his. Nonsensical nursery rhymes I’d never heard before 2016. Daddy finger, daddy finger, where are you? Toddlers that tumble off beds. A subscription to Baby Centre. Hospital emergency room at 6 am on Saturday morning because the child ran an overnight fever so severe he glowed bright red. Motherhood. Forgetting your laptop at home but arriving work with your milk pump bag. Because…priorities. Work. …

Story of a Bleeding Heart

Published by Osemhen

Kosidinma, my friend’s son passed away last week. His mother, Ehimemen wrote this for him. Words cannot express the pain I feel at your demise. You entered my life and made me feel like finally I had a purpose. A purpose that was mine only. Suddenly I knew I owed someone, I knew I owed you a responsibility to raise you as God wants. You gave me sleepless nights but it was all worth it because the look and satisfaction you gave after each feeding was priceless. We had a connection which no one understood. Whenever I heard you cry, even when I knew you were having your bath, I jumped out of bed to watch just to make sure your crying was not for something that could have been avoided. When people came to congratulate me, I was proud of the child I had begotten and created; bright, tall, independent and a whole lot more. I looked forward to your growing up because I felt you were going to be the next Albert Einstein… …

The Woman You Married

Published by Osemhen

Look. Look at her, the woman you married. Look at her dozing as she nurses your child, make-up still on her face, one shoe off. Look at her doing the last of the dishes in the evening, still in her work clothes. Look at her as she patiently spoons rice into your toddler’s mouth, barely flinching as the child spills yet another cupful of water on the floor. Look at her. Look at her “adulting”. Trying to adult. Trying to be her mother, and her aunts, and her grandmothers. Trying to do it all, like she’s seen them do it all. Wear lace, walk in heels, attend weddings, go to the market, manage the domestic staff, do the last load of laundry. Can you tell we’re actually just little girls playing dress-up in our mothers’ lives? Look at her, smiling gamely as the baby places hands sticky with drool on her face. Look at her teaching your daughter to lace her shoes. Look at her, sighing with disgust at the fact that her jeans no longer …

Pregnancy Diary: Part 3 (Giving Birth)

Published by Osemhen

Sooo…you might have noticed that it’s been awfully quiet around here for a while. I literally just found the time to open WordPress…and to breathe…and to take a proper shower…and to think…because, would you believe it, I am now a mother! A couple of weeks ago, a little human being whipped and nae-naed his way out of me. He did whip and nae-nae, I have video footage to prove it! I will be keeping that to show his friends when he’s a teenager and starts to annoy me. This was my perfect, ideal birth plan. At the 39-week mark, with my husband and aunt in attendance, go into labour. Manage the pains of first stage labour with activities like sitting on my exercise ball, long walks, baking, reading a book, taking a warm shower etc. After my water breaks, proceed to the hospital with my packed bag containing my music player, framed pictures of calming scenery, energy drinks and cookies for my nurses. At the hospital, chat with my nurses. Brave the pain. Dance a …

My Pregnancy Diary: Part 2

Published by Osemhen

Thank you to everyone who responded to my call for feedback in my last post! It was very helpful and I will definitely be taking your ideas onboard. The winners of the giveaway are Ife, Sumbo and Nikki *rings bell* Congratulations! I’ll contact you directly on how to get your prizes. For everyone else, don’t worry. I have more giveaways planned this year! Now on to today’s post. Announcing our Baby I must be honest. Kae and I discussed whether going public with our pregnancy would be a good thing. The typical thing is to keep it private. Understandably. On one hand, there’s the superstition associated with sharing good news. Some believe it attracts envy, jealousy, ill-feelings, “bad bele” and in some cases, voodoo against the unborn child. Some others just want to enjoy these precious moments with only family members and close friends. And besides, being private about it means no awkward explanations are needed if there’s a miscarriage, a still-birth or other complications. Then there’s aesthetics. There are women who don’t think they look good …

My Pregnancy Diary: Part 1

Published by Osemhen

“Well, madam. I’m pleased to inform you that you’re pregnant.” I face the doctor, stunned. It is such a cliche moment. The day before, I nearly cut myself with a knife because my hands were trembling so hard. I thought I had a fever (or Lou Gehrig’s). The thought of pregnancy might’ve crossed my mind but I dismissed it because…Nollywood. Nollywood taught me that the first sign of pregnancy was puking your guts out, and I wasn’t puking my guts out. And a part of me didn’t think I could get pregnant without fertility drugs. Call me pessimistic but I know so many women struggling to have babies that I was starting to accept that as the new normal. “You’re married, aren’t you?” The doctor asks me quizzically. My reaction isn’t what he’s expecting, I guess. Lol. I smile. “I am. Thank you, doctor.” “You’re welcome. So come back in 4 weeks, and we’ll see if this pregnancy is viable.” In other words, we’ll see if you haven’t miscarried. So brutal, really. There are a …