Rev. Jesse Kamau ‘When I was pregnant’

‘I was in my final year in school of theology some time in 1969 eager to begin church ministry. Basically all was well, save for the missing rib, which got me praying and preparing. And during one of my visits to Tumutumu Church Hospital in Nyeri, the answer to my long silent prayer captured my sight. I had no doubts that Miss Grace Wairimu (a nurse there) and I would be make great marriage partners.

The nurse had a lovely testimony of a humble walk with God and faithful service for the community-to cut. short the beautiful story. As to my desire, our friendship picked accordingly. Two years down the line, with the blessings of the parents and the church procedures, we allowed God to usher us into the next phase of life-marriage.

Serving as a parish minister and Grace working in Nyeri’s General Hospital, we went through the common rigors creating a ‘home’. These included getting out of the comfort zone and going the extra mile-literally. We both had to commute long distances to earn. Other than that, it was bliss-again something akin to newly wedded couples.

It was not long before our bliss was interrupted by some turbulence in her behaviour. All of a sudden she could do anything for nyama choma, once in while have a crazy mood that tells you to she clearly needs her space. The gentleman in me would oblige and step out for some hours. And lo and behold, she’d be very glad to see me when I got back, even asking why I had abandoned her. In the midst of the spitting, throwing up and the unpredictable mood-swings, I was tempted, to think she was blowing it out of proportion. Considering we are Christians testifying the Lord being in our lives, I wondered why such would have room in our marriage.

But when she eventually explained to me the medical side of her volatile pregnancy predicaments, my misgivings were settled changing my attitude for the better. She reminded that although we are spiritual, we have natural manifestations by our human bodies in different circumstances-one of them being pregnancy. So I took up my role with more confidence; which also included washing her legs and helping her sit and get up in the advanced stages; while looking forward to when the reasonable burden would come to a favourable end.

Then the expected guest was violently knocking at the door. We dashed to Tumutumu Mission Hospital her former workplace where her former colleagues were beside themselves with warmth to see her. But her pangs made their catch up short as she quickly delved into six hours of intense labour. I shivered and panted in prayer through the night until in the early morning hours of 5th October, 1971 when Beth Goiri, our girl, arrived. Grace did not bounce back immediately as other mothers around her, due to fatigue; thus having to go through a series of post-delivery help.

On the other hand, Goiri was happily cooing away when not sleeping like princess-totally oblivious of her mom’s precarious condition. Days later she back to herself and the three of us left for home, thanking God for the Goiri.

What followed required careful understanding. At this juncture, a mother subconsciously shifts most of her attention to the baby, who wails for attention at the most odd times. Therefore, as a hubby, plan to be part of the nurturing from the word go, so you don’t feel left out. Children are the most precious gifts ever-when accepted and raised in love.

Well, baby two was a peaceful journey. I think the fact that we had ‘been there’ before made it easier for both of us. Like Goiri, he was born also born in Tumutumu Mission Hospital. Besides the relief of the road not being bumpy this time round, I could hardly contain the gratitude that my house now had someone who uses the left side of the brain to think-like me. We named him Joseph.

Grace’s third pregnancy was the most trying. Once again, it was long, intense, tedious, left her bleeding profusely and unconscious after the baby. We named her Mercy Naomi Wanja, because it was by God’s mercy that I had both of them alive. You can be sure that after this we put a big hold on baby talk. But five years down the line, it happened again.

This time, my family had joined me in Atlanta USA where I was doing further studies. Recapping how the previous pregnancy experiences were, I poured my concerns to professional experts of the Grady Mission Hospital in Atlanta, and Grace was put under intensive investigation and medical care.

The usual last-leg drama indicated the D-day was with us. My friends Rev (Dr.) and Mrs. Kuria kept watch over Beth, Joseph and Mercy, as I made for the hospital as part of fatherly responsibility-to pace along the corridors in a bid to calm the shouting nerves, and praying to hear a sweet little cry the soonest time possible.

The irregular was awaiting me. No sooner had I gotten there than I was told that is was common practice for husbands to be present to comfort their wife IN the labour ward. You can be sure that I was shy and extremely reluctant to go inside. But in a swoop I was in the midst of medical jargon, adorned in a white hospital gown trying to reassure someone I so truly loved going through something I was not privy to. My sporadic assurances while touching her head and shoulders saying God would provide every necessary help, were being drowned in her audible discomfort and the on going medical jargon. Her profuse sweating, writhing, and whimpering were clearly in response to a bigger voice from within her-all making my efforts a clumsy affair. And when her pain shifted into another gear making me feel like I was indeed in labour altogether, I begged the medical personnel to allow me to step out of the room. While regaining my composure out there in prayer, the good news came rushing. I had gotten a baby boy, Amos, and my wife’s condition was perfectly steady.

Thereafter, it was the usual American fast-life. As Beth, Joe and Mercy went to school in the morning, we handed over Amos in his carry-coat alongside his diapers, milk and whatever else necessary, so Grace and I could go to our respective schools too. Our weekends were maximized; eating out, visiting the zoo. and of course going to church. It was our desire that our children grew to be instruct-able people who enjoyed a relationship with God. Grace and I therefore took it upon ourselves to uphold prayer in our home where every child got an opportunity to pray aloud. To uphold their indigenous heritage, they did it in Kikuyu. All this was built on the foundation that our children were our friends. thus employing discipline and not punishment in the process.

And we were a happy family until September 1986, back in Kenya. Grace had been having an issue with prolonged periods -haemaglobinemia (lack of haemoglobin in the blood). So one time in the course of treatment to boost her haemoglobin levels, the doctor prescribed for her ‘inferon’ (Iron dextran) which caused allergic reactions that were so severe that we never went back home with her. This is because at 6.30pm of Monday 29th September, 1986, she left in peace. The autopsy report said she died of chemical intoxication.

What followed was generally a difficult year; but the kids remained my great friends .. That and God’s assurance made the grief more bearable. And slowly my heart began asking God for His perfect partner for me now. Someone with the capacity to embrace the kids and I.

Soon, I realize I am beginning to enjoy someone’s company, soft humour, rare wit and a special humility that only comes from above. Her name is Alice Njoki, a high school teacher, who is passionate in things that make God happy. She uniquely fills the gaping hole bringing a new flavour into the family. We get married in 1988 and it is amazing how quickly mutual acceptance and trust takes off between Alice and the kids. A few years later, Alice is heavy with child. There is the usual behavioural manifestation but being having a different persona altogether, she doesn’t talk much about it. Wearing the ‘Been there’ badge, I nevertheless execute my duties.

Being back home, there is no obligation for me to be in the delivery room. So I do the African corridor- pace in Aga Khan Hospital, and 30 minutes later, my life’s pregnancy ventures are brought to the end; and I am conclusively handling the prettiest thing ever. My wife names her Grace, to keep warming flame of the Late Grace burning.
Beth, our first born, is now 38, married with two kids and working as a project co-ordinator for AIDS at Bible Society of Kenya. Joe is a graphic and web developer. Mercy does administration in a leading law firm. Amos is back in USA, married with a daughter.

Grace, the youngest and Dad’s right- hand person, is currently studying criminology in University of Nairobi.’ Well, Reverend will not go without putting his calling to task. So a word to the young couple with a baby on the way is that, there are 6 T’s that must be adhered to.

• T – Talk: It is through this that what is in our minds is exposed to each other. Talk to the baby great things you aspire for them too.They hear.
• T – Time: Regardless of how genuinely demanding your days can get, slot in some time for family.
• T – Trust: Assume the best of each other. Trust is the glue that sticks people together for years on end.
• T – Teach: We all come from diverse backgrounds and our differences are likely to” cause friction in marriage. But endeavouring to teach the other and striving to be teachable makes the whole difference.
• T – Touch: Has nothing to do with pushing or beating the other, but to communicate what can’t be said-like a pat of encouragement, and embrace to remind them where they belong, or to caress-which is a marriage fundamental in itself.
• T – Tribute: Avoid the popular version-during funerals. The real tribute is given when the person can listen and be enriched by what they get from it. The baby is part of this too. Pay it NOW.
• T – Take up your child-upbringing roles and be diligently faithful to them.

END: PG 26 /11-14