Irene Kinuthia ‘8 is enough’

Irene Kinuthia has ‘been there’ and is ‘still there’. A mother of seven, she is expectant with her eighth born. She takes us on the ride that is her warm and beautiful life.

‘Hey. I know this girl!’ Irene says, lifting Pregnant’s Issue 19 to get a more convincing view of the cover model. ‘I taught her in Kianda,’ she laughs shaking her head. ‘Really; I should get out of this pregnancy business. How can my students and I be expectant simultaneously?’ She says with playful frown.

Irene is chic, brilliant, updated. She is also practical, modern, interestingly traditional and definitely hardworking. She lets me in on all these with a soft, warm and eloquent narration.

‘I met Robert in college when I was 22. And amongst our ‘sweet nothings’ when we hanged out. it was clear that he only wanted one baby—-a girl, to be specific. But two years of dating made it easy to buy him to my side.

Our first born. MaryLeah, was his dream-come-true. Her name is a blend of both of our mothers names, just incase he was really serious about his ‘one child’ desire. We got onto contraception.

Then somewhere down the line, we came across this nice spiritual perspective of family, which made us see why natural family planning (NFP) was the most ideal. Considering the zeal we both have in aligning to spiritual correctness, all the pills sailed to the bin. You sure will not be surprised when I say that soon after that baby two, was on the way. But I lost this pregnancy. As I worked through the grief. I got the usual siren of morning sickness. Yet another one was on the way.! I bore Joanna in 1995 and, thereafter, Mukasa in 1996.

By the time I was expecting my fourth child, Celia, in 1998, pressure began building from folk. Robert quickly moved to my side, saying, ‘If having many babies is Irene’s dream. I am going to be part of it all the way.’ I remember him getting quite curt with those who questioned my ‘old-fashioned breeding habit’.
Well, that pressure must have taken a toll on me, because I had an emergency labour which was long and tough, to say the least. Nine hours of heavy, actually baby-expelling contractions, but to no avail. I had to undergo a C-Section. You know what comes with a C-Section. Ogling other women clasping hot mugs of tea immediately after delivery, when you are nil by mouth for two days. No breast-milk, as the C-Section being an unnatural procedure, it takes the body by surprise. So the messages to the other motherly organs like the mammary glands take longer than they otherwise would with natural birth. The other undoing is a stitched up wound that has a long Dos & Don’ts list; as if that is not enough, it promises a scar. And more. You can be sure that after that, I took a good break.

The MBs
We call them the Millennium Boys (MBs) because they were born after the year 2000. These are: Kizito in 2002. Lwanga in 2004, and Leo in 2006. It was the same story: Crazy first trimester, sometimes having to practically run from the bus-top to the house to throw up: different cravings—this time I could kill for fish and paw-paw; and finally a C-Section.

Did you plan for all these?
Normally, we would start joking about having a baby, and no sooner was the joke out than the test kit confirmed that we were going to have another family entrant.
I had two impromptu incidents. I actually knew I was bordering on mischief, but a ’who-cares’ attitude carried the day. The results were Joanna (2nd born) and Leo, the current last born. Can anything get better?
Hey, you could be thinking that I have had all these children because of NFP (Natural family planning). This enormous family is out of sheer choice. NFP is as good as air-tight. So do not freak out.

Hard times
There is a gap between Leo and the baby I am carrying. I did not know that the gory images of 2007 post election violence could take such a toll on me. The shock made my cervix open at 4.5 months, and my baby had no alternative but to move out before time. That drained us as a family.
The other miscarriage is the one I already mentioned, after my first-born. I later learnt that it was as a result of wrong diagnosis, and changed doctors to the one who has seen me through all my other pregnancies to the current.

Most trying time
My 3rd born, Mukasa, was a bit premature, weighing 2.6 kg. For the first few days he could not feed, which made the doctors stick pipes down his throat to get food to his stomach. Now, this procedure went awry. Instead of milk being in the stomach, where it was supposed to be, it found its way to his lungs, causing pneumonia. Well, that was cleaned out and we went home.

Days later, I noticed Mukasa had slept for very long. I raised the observation with the paediatrician, who said I needed not to worry as the baby was recovering from the fatigue caused by the pneumonia. One day, he slept for unusually long: six hours straight. Without any other alarming reason. I decided to take him for check up. One look at the baby and the nurse started yelling at me. There was no recordable temperature. He was no longer breathing. In precise words, the baby was blue! They rushed him to the ICU, warning me that chances of him surviving were negligible. And that even if he did. he was likely to be very slow. (Sigh!)

The nights that followed were almost unbearable. The thought that he was miles away, only in the company of machines and medical paraphernalia was unbelievable. The hospital’s phone kept ringing off the hook. I wanted to know every detail of his progress.

On the third morning I wobbled into the ICU, praying against the worst news (as usual). When the doctor and nurses beamed smiles at me, I hoped against hope that they meant every bit of it. Before I could blurt out my anxiety, the doctor said that the baby was out of danger and was now being taken to the High Dependency Unit. Sweet relief. He stayed there for ten days. He is now a strong perfectly healthy boy in class seven.

In the house
It is now a Girls’ versus Boys battle. The boys want a baby boy; the girls want one their kind. The reasons for each party are so intellectually valid that they can put you at the edge of your seat, and so hilarious you may be knocked off your seat.

They have the say in all my maternity wear. Some were banned without discussion.

Together with their dad the boys and girls are very supportive, especially in the morning when I am all slow and sloppy. The older ones prepare for the MBs as Robert fixes their breakfast and lunch packs.

Robert
There is surely a humongous token up my sleeve for this guy.

The first trimester of this pregnancy had my eyes too swollen for me to read. Yet my exams were days away. The gentleman sat and READ aloud for me all my three units’ notes of about 700 slides. One of them was Strategic Management, which he had to read back and forth and back again, until I got it. He look leave to help me about during the exams. He chauffeured me to the campus and waited in the car until I was done. Once, the exams were a whole-day affair. He sat in the car all the while.

Money
Every dream costs something. If you want a house in Runda, you channel all your efforts into availing you that house. Same case if you want 12 children, like me. We work very hard to give them the best, including taking them to quality-delivering schools. The boys are in Strathmore and the girls in Kianda.

It is also about choices. Someone else would rather have a Hummer, and that’s really cool. Robert and I would gladly convert that to school fees. So we have one convenient car. As our family grew in leaps and bounds, we moved and went out of town, near Limuru, where there is lots of space at reasonable rent. For holiday, we opt for camps that have more ‘Do-it-yourselves’, thus cheaper and with more bonding power, as opposed to hotels where the waiters are at your beck-and-call.

Our house-help leaves just before we get home. She only cooks once a week, when I get home late from duty. We want the kids to be responsible and independent. My house has little luxuries but with practical gadgets like a washing machine.

Besides motherhood
I am a Life Coach in our company. Quantum Conferences, which trains on work-life balance, self management, people management, leadership development, and on parenting and couple relations. I am currently pursuing an Executive Masters in Organisational Development. Other than that, we breed dogs for sale.

Well…
I had hoped to have 12. But I seem to have started the journey late because my body is giving fatigue signals. The C-Sections, constant backaches and general weariness seem to be saying. ‘8 is enough!’ Come to think of it, the other day my sisters reminded me of the way I would do anything to watch the ‘8 is enough’ comedy. I am beginning to wish there had been a ’12 is enough’ one.

END: PG25/12-15