Saturday, May 31, 2025
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Am I normal? I post weird pictures of my baby!

By
FK
-
20

A couple of weeks after I had Aridunnu, I saw an article about, and for, parents who feel that their newborn does not look cute, on BabyCenter. BabyCenter is a multifunctional app for women, couples, and parents; it can help you track your fertility, coach you through pregnancy, prepare you for delivery, and walk you through raising a healthy and happy baby. There are a number of such apps actually, but this is the one I used and still use. Apps like this are much better than running to Google each minute you feel something; these days if you googled ‘stomach ache’, you just might come off thinking you have cancer.

Google ki la gbe, ki lo ju? (Google it’s not that deep!)

Quick example here, around 6 weeks after I got pregnant, I bled. My heart goes out to any reader who has lost a baby – at any stage (miscarriage, born sleeping etc.), pulling through that is the true definition of ‘strong’. At barely 2 months gone, I wept like a baby, I refused to speak to SA all evening, as though he had a hand in it – lol. Because if you see what google had to say ehn? Anyways, on BabyCenter, and after meeting a O&G the next day, I realized it could have been either the implantation still, or just cervical changes – in the simplest terms. That said, lets focus on today’s focus.

Do folks really worry about how their baby looks? I am not referring to babies with a medical condition or any deformity. Just concerns about whether a baby is cute enough, big or small eyed, chubby enough, hairy enough, etc. No jokes there o, because the article I referred to up there, took its time appealing to new parents to let go of their expectations or fantasies, and accept their baby’s features for what they are.

Ha-mazing!

Why do we like to pressure and punish ourselves unnecessarily? Like almost everything else, is there also an innate tendency to compare babies? I am sure you’re wondering ‘Ibo latun jasi yi ooo, FK’, hmmm.

It was TFash, my sister, that got me thinking. She asked me to share a photo of Aridunnu with her on a certain day, and she specified that I was to dress her up for the pictures because she intended to post them. I blinked twice, and then a third time, as I processed and reprocessed the request. I queried her about why Aridunnu had to be specially dressed for posts, and she teased me about how I had ‘shamelessly’ posted her as she messily ate Mangoes – she claimed that was weird, in fact, that I am weird. Looool! The laughter was both ways, I am sure we thought each other ridiculous.

…and daaaz right! This is TFash. Rolls eyes.

Am I normal? Or is there actually a code of conduct for this thing, “only share what’s gorgeous and picture perfect”? No way! Hell to the N and to the O! A baby sucking on mangoes is messy, I am not going to dress that up to look fancy, nor refrain from sharing – it was beautiful to me! My little girl was diligently feeding herself on my best fruit, after Agbalumo. You can call me weirdo, I like.

Look, the bed isn’t laid all the time, I get tired I don’t do dishes immediately anymore, sometimes she eats without a bib because we just cant find any of the many, she sticks her hands in the butter at that very moment when I take one glance away, well yeah – if I want to take and share a picture in all of that, I will, I freaking will.

Ooops!

Dear you, I encourage you to feel free to keep it real too. So here is ‘cheers’ to many more messy photos, and weird photos, alongside the picture perfect ones.

Till your next visit here – stay blooming!!!

How My Daughter Got Me Thinking

By
FK
-
0

 

Aridunnu started to sit up just before she clocked 4 months. One night after work, I was having my usual mother-daughter time with her in my bedroom (this just means playing, talking, and giggling with just her, not minding my phone or anything else). I propped her on my thighs which were slanted, so she could lay down, rest her back, and still see my face. To my utmost surprise, she pushed back up forcefully with her elbows. She couldn’t get into a sitting position herself, but she kept pushing. It was as though she knew her persistence would make me pull her into a sitting position, eventually.

The next milestone after this was her flipping from her back to her belly milliseconds from the moment she is dropped on the bed or rug. Then she began to lunge for things, she would push herself forward when she sees something she wants to touch, or of course experience with her mouth (why does everything have to go into a baby’s mouth by the way?). After a couple of days of  doing this, she began crawling, albeit slowly and shakily. There are times my dear Bloom would go on a screaming bout, just yammering incoherent babylese. I reckon she is trying to emulate us and talk.

So, I was meditating one day and I realized this, you can call it a light bulb moment if you please – child development is absolutely hinged on curiosity.
Take away the keen interest of a baby in touching or reaching for something, or in imitating the actions of those around them, and you’d likely see that that child would not start to sit, crawl, stand, or talk. Curiosity is what spurs a baby to try to do what he/she cannot yet do. Repeatedly trying to do it, in turn, strengthens the muscles to a point where they can now carry out that action or function effortlessly.

Another thing that works for babies my daughter’s age, is that they really do not understand reprimand or discouragement. So, until what she wants to touch is out of her sight, she won’t stop trying, even if it’s a plate of steaming hot stew. She seems to interpret my sharp remarks; “stop it!” or “don’t touch that!”, as code phrases for “let’s play a game; do the exact opposite of what I say!”.
I am glad and proud that much early, I have learned to appreciate, encourage, and engage her curiosity and her attempts at doing new things carefully, as opposed to shooing her off, which is common.

It’s hard to live like a baby. Yet, what greater feats we just may achieve if we never stopped being curious, inquisitive, reaching, and fearless as we grow older; being unconcerned with self-doubt, the fears of failure and loss, criticism, and scorn. If only we too can choose to turn the contrary voices in our heads, and around us into code words for – go get it! Yes, you can!

Someone once told me that the best drivers are those who learned to drive as teenagers; this person lives in Lagos by the way – you know what ‘best driver’ means in Lagos. Teenagers are thrilled about moving a vehicle, and showing up around in their parent’s cars. They would ram into a fence, get flogged silly, and still get back in the car the next evening – I doubt they know that PTSD is a thing. So why is adulting and fear, like the proverbial 5 and 6? I think it’s the awareness of everything that could possibly go wrong that keeps many on the extremes of conservativeness – lets just leave well enough alone, right?

I haven’t invented anything yet, and I benefit so much from technology and innovation; electricity, airplanes, mobile phones etc. In the end it’s people who give in to curiosity in spite of the everything that could go wrong, that truly drive impact. People who question what’s already existing and celebrated. People who never leave well enough alone.

Don’t Ask What I have Achieved, Please.

By
FK
-
3

Hi there!

I know I know. You’re wondering where I have been, right?

Well, time does fly. I can’t believe it’s almost 2 months since my last post here.

To be honest, I have just been overwhelmed with myself. I have not been excited by many things lately – not that I post when I am excited (as in happy), but rather when something excites (as in stirs or drives) me into a writing frenzy, and moves me to share a single thought in over a thousand words.

Sighs. Time does fly, and you don’t even have to be having fun.

Anyways, by now you’ve figured I am pretty much just rambling today. But I do have a thought to share.

In the first week of June, Aisha… Hmm, a pause there.

I haven’t introduced Aisha to you before now, I’d really love for you guys to meet her. I promise I’ll do a post about her someday in the near or distant future (only God knows) when I no longer work with her (that reads some type of way – weird). So, Aisha said to herself “It’s June already – almost half of 2022, what have I achieved this year?”

No, nope, nah. She wasn’t in a serious reflective mode, it was more of a jesting, self-mocking question. But have you asked yourself that question yet this year?

Well when I asked myself, all I could muster as an answer was ‘Wo see Folake just leave me, I am tired, abeg.’ LOL!!! For real.

So instead I decided to ask myself a different question – what am I doing now, Is there some value in it?

I have a super amazing friend who has become a sister, she relocated from Nigeria to another country to be with her husband. She hasn’t gotten a corporate job yet but spends her time loving her husband, studying, reaching out to friends, sharing experiences, and counseling.
I have two adorable mums who have spent huge parts of the year being nannies for free.
I have a sister who has been home for months because of a school strike, she’s catering to my dad and brother while my mum is away, she’s sewing to make some money, and learning what she can off the internet to keep busy.

I am sure there are countless more people who have spent the first half of this year just waiting, just making sacrifices, just getting by, or just learning.

I remember January to March last year – 2021, I had just left a toxic job in November 2020, in mindfulness of my mental health (I would rather pray about, and commit my time to work towards getting a great job than get comfortable praying for strength to bear ill-treatment because of a salary. When I tell people I will leave any job hastily where I don’t have peace of mind, they think I am joking. Work can be challenging, but it must never be peace draining. Pardon the digression).

Even though I got called for interviews almost everywhere I applied in Lagos, I couldn’t take any of these seriously because I was relocating soon. Also, the companies I applied to in Abuja either insisted I show up physically for the interview or be ready to start in a month’s time. Neither of these options was viable at the time, so all I could do was wait – for 3 months (December to February), two whole months in a new year. No I wasn’t idle, I mean I started a food business, but imagine me having to answer the question ‘what have I achieved this year?’ I was only making little enough to handle my phone bills, logistics and personal effect, without touching my savings – was that achievement?

Ordinarily, it’s a great question to ask. I mean if you set goals, its safe to see just how far you’ve come through those milestones. But for some, putting the question that way would just result in depression and high BP that is not needful. You can be 33 and be at the phase where your own question should be – what am I doing now, is there some value in it? You can be 22 and you are happy to answer – ‘what have I achieved this year?’ So your age is not the point.

I am not encouraging idleness, or anything of such, I mean I have had a most eventful year so far, from having a baby, to organizing a high-impact/high-level program, I am the absolute opposite of idle, yet please Folake, don’t ask me what I have achieved, but feel free to ask me what I am doing/have done, and if there is some value in it. This is enough right now, abeg.

I am not rambling. Just reminding you to think more in the line of “am I adding value somehow?”, than “am I checking off a list of things called achievements?”.

C-Section Mummy is Mummy Part 2

By
FK
-
3

So, I had my baby by vaginal birth (I am pretty sure you thought this was about me, no.). It was what I desired and trusted God for, both I and SA, but if it had come down to having a C-section, I wouldn’t have hesitated.

I wanted the pride of “oh, I suffered to born you.”

I knew about epidural, but seeing as it tended to increase the duration of labor, I was willing to go without it, so as not to stress my baby too much. Ok let me not lie, maybe in my sub-sub-sub-conscious mind, I wanted the pride of “oh, I suffered to born you.” Looking back now kai, all I tell myself is – “Folake ehn, you too like suffer-head”.  I endured labor till I was about 7cm dilated (I honestly hope you are one of those who understand what that feels like for an induced mum), and then I DEMANDED an epidural (something I should have started with jeje), in fact, I was almost past that phase where they could apply it, seeing as my contractions seemed to be seconds apart and I could barely sit still from one contraction to the next. That one hour of sleep after it was administered, remains the best sleep I remember having in my last 28 years. I woke up from it, and Aridunnu was born within the hour.

So, if you put me side by side with a woman who did not use an epidural to birth her baby, what reason do I have to feel ashamed? Why would either of us not see ourselves as champions? The same applies to the mother who had to birth her baby via CS – she is a champion. The procedure has its own risks, and recovery isn’t nearly as quick as a vaginal birth, why go through that much sacrifice to be a mum and feel disappointed in yourself?

…the ‘Hebrew woman’ pressure is serious pressure.

Dear C-section mummy, stop explaining yourself out, stop feeling you need to let them know why it was necessary – because you worry that if you don’t, they’d think you’re weak, faithless, or less of a mum? You are not. The one that gave birth vaginally was helped of God, and the one that had a CS was equally helped of God, Kii se nipa ti agbara (delivering a child is not by strength)!

My parents (all four) were huge support from the moment we announced our conception till she was born. But even they were still a source of pressure. The way they spoke of CS, prayed openly against it, and in fact scolded my doctor about it, I felt I would have been a disappointment to them if I had ended up having my baby by CS. After Aridunnu was born, one of my parents said – I am so proud of you! While this made me feel good, I still wondered if they’d have said these exact words should I have had a C-section.

They were just being loving, but pressure is pressure, and the ‘Hebrew woman’ pressure is serious pressure. No jokes there.

 

So instead of saying “CS is a bad thing o, it will not be your portion, you’ll deliver like the Hebrew woman in Jesus name my dear child”, you could say “Your delivery will be complication-free in Jesus name. You have a covenant of life in Christ, and a command for fruitfulness, so shall it be for you. God who caused you to conceive, will also cause/help you deliver”.

The C-Section is an alternative that can help a woman having complications to still give birth to her baby safely. It is not an unfortunate incident that happens to weak and faithless women, no! This write-up stemmed from the provocation of seeing yet another woman attempt to explain why she had a CS in a bid to validate her experience to her audience. You my dear reader can help stop it, by having a paradigm shift, and a language change.

Now for us Christians and bible scholars, you do know that the Hebrew women were birthing their babies in their houses without the help of midwives? If there was a similitude of hospitals or maternity clinics back then, we can rightly assume that the Egyptian soldiers had closed them down. But now you’d rarely consider giving birth at home, right? You go for antenatal classes, hold monthly and then weekly sessions with your O&G, and pack for the hospital when it is time – quite unlike the ‘Hebrew woman’.

Stop it!!!

C-section Mummy is Mummy Part 1

By
FK
-
6

Cesarean Section, C-section, CS, you know what it is.

I would like to think I came to know it for the first time in my early teens, and as far back as then, it seemed to connote tragic childbirth, weak womanhood, misfortune, and even wickedness to a husband – seeing as he’d have to pay almost 5 times the hospital bill for a vaginal delivery. Also, for us Christians it felt bad, shameful, and faithless to not give birth like the biblical ‘Hebrew woman’.

In my early twenties, the campaign against emotional blackmail, victimization, and whiplashing of women who have their babies through CS picked up. Sadly, it didn’t start just because of better education, it started because of horrible experiences. Families, friends, and colleagues, cried out about their losses and shared horrific tales of avoidable pain and death of women and their babies on the delivery bed.  Stories like the ones below, filled newspapers, radios, magazines, and several media platforms.

…she bled to death

“Her husband refused to sign off on the operation, his mother said CS is an abomination, she bled to death”

“Though her pelvis was too small for the baby to go through, they insisted it must be a vaginal delivery – or how else would they testify?”

“She could have been saved, she could have lived, but we wouldn’t listen – at least not when we still could.”

Sighs! While I may never have heard the other side of these stories, nor come to terms with the regrets those left alive may have felt, I know for a fact that many women today still feel the need to explain and validate themselves over and over after going through a CS, and this shouldn’t be.

He is the originator and benefactor of the knowledge that drives medicine & surgery

Now, I am not saying go and opt for an Elective CS, especially out of fear, no, you have nothing to fear. The average woman’s body is designed to conceive and deliver. But say, for instance, you are unable to conceive when you want, or you do conceive but your pelvis is found to be too small, or maybe like me, labor doesn’t kick in by itself and you’re past due, are you any less of a woman? No!

God is there to help you come through anything, and He is the originator and benefactor of the knowledge that drives medicine & surgery (before you crucify me, humans can take a good thing and use it wrongly, such as we see in the changing a female into a male – the use for good or bad is a ‘human’ problem). Clinicians warn against elective CS, and so do I, but it is still your choice, and you have absolutely nothing to feel bad about. If you opt for an elective CS and go through with it, God’s love for you wouldn’t drop one bit, you would still be able to trust him to keep you and your baby through the procedure.

…what matters is going in and returning safely with your baby – no complication, no loss.

Delivery is delivery, vaginally or by CS, what matters is going in and returning safely with your baby – no complication, no loss. God can heal diseases miraculously without the intervention of science or medicine, still, he can heal diseases by causing the body to respond correctly to medication. Medicine is not the opposite of faith, instead, it is a tool in the hand of God. Jesus in his ministry on earth healed the sick by speaking, touching, or even mixing spit with soil, He can use anything, don’t put Him in a box.

There is a place of divine instruction and guidance, you know it for what it is, and obedience is key. But otherwise, always remember that medicine is not the opposite of faith, but a tool in God’s hands. This also shows that you don’t place your trust in science or medicine, you place your trust in God. I can only hope this is clear as we proceed to part 2 of this piece.

FK Goes Back to Work

By
FK
-
7
Unless it was your birthday, yesterday was just another Monday for almost everyone. For me, it was a special one – the first working day this year. Have you had that feeling when you’re walking out of the cinema, after just seeing a beautiful movie, and as you and tens of other people throng down the stairs, the lights come on and it’s like an imaginary shout “welcome back to the real world, the movie is over!”? Immediately you’re thinking, what am I going to cook tonight? Oh, the car has a flat tire! Oh, I hope there is light at home now. Most people are familiar with the feeling. That was how I felt – welcome back to the real world!

Welcome back to the real world!

I love my job/work, it’s very meaningful and I do very well at it, yet I find it upsetting to think of it more as the ‘real world’ than the last three months have been.
Whether it is ‘complication free’ or labeled ‘fragile’, pregnancy is hard and everyone knows that. What I have newly learned however is that in the context of motherhood, pregnancy is the easy part. LOL! You see, from delivering a child to recovering, breastfeeding (if you’re able to), dealing with so many people (visits, calls, texts, etc.), nurturing the baby, housekeeping, dealing with moods (and hopefully not depression), oh yes and trying to lose some weight, any woman could lose herself. When I think of it, I am so appreciative of every mother, particularly African mothers – it is rather common in this part of the world to make light of the toll that all these take on the body and mind of a woman. Now, imagine having to call these ‘the movie’.
So about resuming at work after about 3 months, I can’t describe how I felt in one word, perhaps not even two. It was like a buzz, or whirling of different emotions and thoughts. I felt enthusiastic about it, the meetings, calls, client visits, research and writing, bouncing ideas with colleagues I hadn’t seen in weeks, phew! But I also felt sad, I’ll be gone almost 10 hours straight without seeing my dearest Aridunnu. While she is in good hands, nothing feels quite as perfect as being with her. I worried about if she’ll miss me or not, would she give one of her broad toothless smiles when I return home by evening, or she’ll not even notice – silly right? I know. Seeing as I am writing this on Tuesday, I should just tell you, she didn’t smile at first, she just stared at me and all the gymnastics I was doing. It didn’t stop me from carrying her and kissing her all over, and she soon began to smile and almost giggle.
Asides being away from my baby, there was also that subtle anxiety, that nagging feel of starting over at the firm. Ok well, even if I picked up where I left off, everyone else has been moving on, and getting by. For colleagues at work, its 1 quarter down and 3 to go, for this new mum it is – happy new year. Sighs! Anyways we are breaking biases, ain’t we?

Look on the bright side!

Now, before you sigh along with me, know this, as I stepped out yesterday morning I chose to replace these concerns with positive thinking.
Consider this – when I left work, I was a pregnant woman, now I resume as a mum – this is a thing of pride and I’ll wear it as though it were a crown of gold with precious stones set in it.
Also while 9-5ers across the world are jaded already from one whole quarter of work, I am resuming clear headed and bustling with enthusiasm and grace.
Before now, I had only SA to look forward to at the end of each day, now I have Aridunnu as well.
People say, may our children make us proud, in the mean while I also hope to make my children proud, starting with Aridunnu – a new motivation to excel.
Now I would happily join group photos, I used to dread them – my 3rd trimester look was something else.
My weekends would be much more meaningful and treasured! I won’t simply look forward to laundry and sleep, but to quality mummy time.
I charged myself with these thoughts, and got into the swing of things. Guess what the day went well and ended so much better than I could have imagined.
First I realized I was at peace about Ari’s welfare – thank you mum, and all glory to God! Dear new mum, if you’ll function well in your career pursuits, please know you must first be at peace with where or with whom your child is kept.
Next I realized just how much I had missed work, and beyond that, how much I had missed the me that works – doing what I do is such a vital part of who I am.
Lastly, my colleagues and boss (a super amazing soul) blew my mind away! They wrapped up the day with a surprise welcome for me. I wasn’t expecting this as they had done so much already before and after Ari birth. I had a little chat with one of SA’s friends, a brother to me, recently. He believes Nigerian youths have no choice in where they work, as they are willing to take horrible options since jobs are scarce. I won’t pose my argument here, instead I’ll advice both the young and growing to keep praying for God’s favor. Dear new mum, those you work with can either make your life hell, or make it a livable. Just knowing they care, was a good way to end the day and boost my courage to forge forward.

FK’s welcome back to work

If you are a working mum, I hope you draw strength from knowing you are not alone, look on the bright side and shine everyday.

A Wig for the Job – IWD2022

By
FK
-
0

Earlier today, I participated in a webinar celebrating International Women’s Day, and it made me reflect on my professional journey. I recalled an experience I had just before the covid-19 pandemic hit the country.

I wondered how a long weave-on mattered more for the job than the knowledge and skills that I brought to the table

I wanted extra income, so I applied for a weekend training job with a renowned training institute in Lagos state, and I got invited for the interview. It was one interview I absolutely enjoyed taking, and it went perfectly well until the end when the lead recruiter said to me “I like women with long hair. Why do you have your hair plainly woven, and without a wig? You aren’t taking us seriously? If you’ll be joining the team, you must get wigs” Oh yes! This happened. I wondered how a long weave-on mattered more for the job than the knowledge and skills that I brought to the table.

I have seen men get paid more than their female counterparts because of the belief that they cater to their households. I have also seen confident and expressive women tagged as aggressive, while the same is considered as assertive and appropriate in the male counterparts.

Whatever our sphere of influence – small or large, within our families or on a company’s board, we must stay committed to breaking these biases, cancelling cultures that attack and stifle the growth of women everywhere and in the corporate spaces, rooting out these erroneous constructs, and wrong socialization that continue to limit women.

Everyone has a role to play, and so everyone needs to be educated accordingly.

At some point in the webinar, the moderator called on her colleague, a man, to share some information with the audience, but apologized first for having to call him up. No! More than ever before, more men should be encouraged to participate in, and champion courses and initiatives that promote gender equality. To achieve gender equality in a world of men and women, we must involve men. Everyone has a role to play, and so everyone needs to be educated accordingly.

Rita Series 2: Rita’s Interview

By
FK
-
2

It was 5:20 am on Tuesday morning, and Chidi had just taught on what he titled ‘Guarding Your Faith’. They prayed, and in closing, he asked Rita to lead the family in sharing The Grace. Rita wished the earth would open and swallow her there and then. Morning devotions were always a nightmare for her, yet there was no escaping it. Chidi had threatened that the day she missed any, would be the day she’d leave his house. Usually, Rita would sleep through the teaching, and mumble gibberish during prayers, counting seconds till the end. This was the first time Chidi was asking her to take any part of the devotion.

“Rita, lead us in sharing The Grace” Chidi reiterated impatiently.

Morning devotions were always a nightmare for her

“Errm…” She started. “Surely, may the grace of God, al…mighty, the love of Jesus the son… his goodness and mercy, be with us now and forever.” She finished.

Only Laura said ‘amen’. Chidi gave Rita a hard stare and shook his head. Rita quickly got up and headed for her room.

Beatrice, their 5-year-old daughter pulled on her dad’s sleeve and asked why aunty Rita shared a different grace. “Daddy which Grace is that?” she asked innocently. Benjamin, their 9year old son, burst out laughing, and Laura smacked his back. “Ouch mum! Beatrice, that’s what you call a remix” Benjamin said and laughed some more, moving away from his mother’s reach. Chidi looked at his wife, and they both burst out laughing too. Only Beatrice didn’t laugh, she was genuinely confused.

Rita stormed into her room and slammed the door shut. Why wouldn’t they just leave her alone? She didn’t think she could put up with these early morning devotions anymore. It was a big enough challenge already that she had to wake up at 5 am, but to be constantly made a mockery of was just too much to bear.

Rita heard a knock on her room door. She asked who it was and heard the person giggle. “Benjamin?” She called her nephew, “what is funny? What do you want?” she snapped.

“Ahn, aunty Rita, why are you angry? My daddy asked me to call you.”

“For what?” Rita asked irritated.

“I don’t know”, he answered, obviously getting impatient behind the door.

“I’m coming” Rita answered, and he scurried off.

Rita went downstairs to see her brother. He told her she would be following him tomorrow morning to see a friend of his who needs a personal assistant. He told her to prepare for it, and that it was a good thing she already has some experience in that line of work. “…and Rita”, he added, “please be decently dressed, it is an interview and he is a Christian” Rita threw him a flippant ‘thank you’ and went back to her room.

The next day, Rita was in her brother’s car waiting for him to return from his office. He had gone up to sort a few things. He called her and told her a lady called Monique was coming to join her in the car before he returned. Rita said okay, and he ended the call. Almost immediately a young lady approached the car, and after confirming her name, Rita let her in.

Monique was a petite woman with a teenage body frame, she had a beautiful face accentuated with nude make-up, she had a full black afro wig on and was wearing a black see-through blouse on slim blue jeans, with blue stilettoes that revealed her hot red painted toe nails. All together she looked like a billion-dollar. Rita loved her instantly.

“You must be Rita, thanks a lot. My car developed a fault, I am just glad it was close to Chidi’s office. I called him immediately and he said he would actually be heading my way.”

“Sorry about that, it’s nice meeting you, Monique. How do you know my brother?” Rita asked. Whether or not she liked Laura, she was going to watch her sister-in-law’s back.

“He’s friends with my husband,” Monique answered.

“You’re married?” Rita asked surprised.

Monique chuckled; she could relate to Rita’s surprise “Yes I am”, she answered, stretching her left hand forward so Rita could see the shiny silver band on her finger. “I am also a mother of two”.

“Wow, you have the body of a 16-year-old, you’re so lucky”, Rita said, and Monique chuckled some more.

“So where are you going?” Monique asked.

“I’ve got an interview this morning. My brother’s friend needs a personal assistant,” Rita answered. “I just hope the place is not a boring one, this one Chidi was emphasizing the fact that the guy is a Christian.” Rita said.

“What do you mean by boring?’ Monique asked.

“Well, I am single and overly ready to mingle” Rita said, and Monique giggled, urging her on. “Ordinarily, I wouldn’t take the job, it’s not my type of thing, but I am hoping to meet my type of man there, and of course starting with this boss of mine. I hope he isn’t married, though that’s not a new kind of challenge.” Rita said and laughed.

Monique raised an eyebrow at that and then laughed, “You are one naughty lady’” She said to Rita.

Chidi appeared, got in the car and greeted Monique, then they headed out. He slowed as they approached Life Gate pharmaceuticals, Monique’s firm, a large blue and white building on the right. Monique touched his shoulder from behind and told him she would follow them to her husband’s place first, something just came up and she needed to see him. Chidi said ‘ok’ and drove on.

“Rita, I forgot to introduce Monique, she is married to the person I’m taking you to, they are very wonderful people.” Chidi said.
Rita felt sick immediately. She mumbled a weak ‘ok’, keeping her face straight. Monique answered Chidi also and told him they’d already talked. Chidi sensed tension between the two women. He looked at Rita briefly and hoped nothing had gone wrong while he was away. They got to Ubest Consults, a large management consulting firm and the trio boarded the lift to the third floor. As they got out into the hallway, the receptionist greeted Monique cheerfully, and then Chidi and Rita. Monique headed straight into her husband’s office, while Chidi waited outside with Rita until Monique was through.

In less than 5 minutes the door opened, and Monique and her husband stepped out. He was a stout, middle-aged man, with long white beards and a bald head. Monique collected his car key, kissed him briefly, and bade Chidi and Rita goodbye, as she left. The man shook Chidi, and they exchanged pleasantries. He called out to the receptionist, “Kimberly, please serve the lady some biscuits and tea”, then he and Chidi went into his office. The receptionist asked Rita if she would have biscuits and tea, and Rita politely declined. She was too disturbed for that.

“Who is Mrs. Tonye?” Rita asked rudely

Not long after, Chidi came out, he beckoned for Rita to follow him, and they left. He didn’t say anything to her on their way down, but he was obviously fuming inside.

When they got in the car Chidi let out his steam. “What did you say to Mrs. Tonye while you two were alone in the car?” He looked mad.

“Who is Mrs. Tonye?” Rita asked rudely.

Chidi wished he could hit her hard across her cheek. “Get serious you silly girl, I spoke with Dozie just two days back and he still told me he hadn’t gotten anyone, and you could come, suddenly this morning he says he already recruited someone. I am not dumb like that Rita, I sensed the tension in this car as we drove here, and with Monique storming into his office like that, you must have done something. What did you say to her?”

Rita’s face crumbled in remorse. “I didn’t know she was his wife; I didn’t know. I only made a joke about marrying the man.”

“Aah!” Chidi exclaimed banging his fist against the steering wheel. “Rita, apugim ikwe na anyi nuru otu ara [I can’t believe we suckled the same breast]”.

Rita Series 1: Rita’s rude shock

By
FK
-
5
Shot of a young woman looking thoughtful while relaxing on the sofa at home

Rita hissed and dropped her phone carelessly on the marble stool beside her. She was seated in the balcony, on the upper floor of her brother’s duplex in Victoria Garden City, Lekki. Since her breakup with Udena, after he discovered she was seeing two other men asides from him, she hadn’t found a new man to fill the void. Being Rita, this was very unusual, at any given moment, she had no less than three men she was dating. She couldn’t help feeling bored and lonely.

Chief Balogun Romeo had dumped her after her persistent refusal to marry him and be his fifth wife. All she wanted was to be his ‘sugar-baby’. After stalling for 2 years, he finally broke off the relationship. He was so convinced that all the money he had spent on her more than qualified for him to own her. Chike Smart, her hot actor bobo had also left her for fresher fish. This she didn’t mind really; the guy wasn’t all that generous with his money. She had only enjoyed the hype and glamour of dating a Nollywood celebrity.

…at any given moment, she had no less than three men she was dating

Rita looked at her phone and sighed. It had rung only twice today and both times had been her network provider calling to make unsolicited adverts – “one would think these guys would stop at texts”, she hissed. All those she had tried chatting up seemed too busy and disinterested. Out of desperation, she had sent chief Romeo a few ‘pictures’ the ones she knew he liked to see, yet nothing. The ‘old Buffon’ was online and had obviously received them but ignored her. “Nawa o”, she muttered. If only she hadn’t squandered all the funds chief used to lavish on her, but with her addiction to the latest beauty products, designer wears, accessories, and wild partying, it had taken less than one month for her account balance to hit 50k. If only she had known Udena would discover her runs and call off their engagement, she would have rented her own apartment in a choice location with some of those funds. Now she was stuck here in her brother’s house with his ‘Mary-Amaka’ saintly-witch of a wife.

She believed her sister-in-law didn’t like her, as she was always complaining that she didn’t go to church, she didn’t dress decently, and that she never did anything to keep the house clean, instead she made a mess of everything. Rita scoffed, why would anyone expect her to wash the dishes with these beautiful French tip nails she had on? They cost money, and she couldn’t afford for them to chip off. Rita looked up to the skies, “Baba God money don drain o, I need a refill asap. Bikonu, send bobo.”

…she saw the ‘sweet boy’ in the driver’s seat

Just then she saw a black Range Rover drive slowly into the street and park in front of the house opposite theirs. Her eyes popped! She wasn’t knowledgeable about cars, but she could tell this was a new model. Nobody got out for what seemed like minutes, so she strained her eyes to see through the tinted glass, “who is at the wheels?” She wondered. The driver’s side window slid down slowly, and Rita stopped breathing when she saw the ‘sweet boy’ in the driver’s seat.  He was dark-complexioned, had pink lips, a cute nose, and well-trimmed beards. From the way the mint green polo shirt he wore hugged him snuggly she could tell he had a good muscle tone too. His hands, on the wheel, looked so strong and fresh. He looked right in her direction and Rita quickly adjusted her pose to accentuate her curves. When their eyes met and he held her gaze, she did the typical hair flip with just the right dose of attitude. She was going to leave an impression on this guy, whoever he was.

Mr. Range reached for something on the passenger seat, his iPad, and began typing away into it. He stayed there for a few more minutes before driving off. Rita scoffed; he didn’t even have the decency of looking her way again before driving off. She settled back into her seat and picked up her phone with irritation, perhaps Chief has responded.

A week later Rita was walking back home from her morning run when she sighted the same black vehicle. “It had to be the one”, she thought as she quickened her steps. It was parked in front of the fruits and vegetable Kiosk two streets from hers. “Eeeh! If it’s that bobo I saw the other day, he won’t pass me by today o”, She muttered to herself and began jogging till she got to the vehicle. The mallam who owned the kiosk was placing a paper bag full of vegetables in the back seat of the car. She came up through the driver’s side and knocked lightly against the window. The glass slid down, and Rita felt her legs wobble. If she were a cartoon character she’d be drooling! It was him and he was terribly handsome, though up close he looked younger than the last time, in fact, somewhat boyish. Bodily, his muscles were game! He sure spends a lot of time at the gym. Rita could picture them jogging and exercising together already. Perhaps this one can replace Udena!

“Hello”, he greeted with a smile, “what can I do for you?”.

“Errm…” Rita stuttered. “I went jogging and probably pushed myself too far, I don’t think I can manage the rest of the walk down the street to where I live. I’m hoping I can get a ride.” Rita asked sweetly.

The guy looked her over intently, up-down, down-up, and then smiled. “Okay, hop in.”

He stretched to open the passenger’s door beside him for her. As Rita walked around the front of the vehicle, she ensured her hips sways nicely and did her best to give her boobs some bounce. She settled in beside him and smiled. They began talking immediately he started the car, up until they turned into Rita’s street. He parked in front of her brother’s house, and they talked for another 20minutes. He clearly enjoyed Rita’s company. “So, we are seeing later tonight?” He asked Rita as he stroked her chin with his thumb. “Yeah, I’ll be ready at 6”, Rita replied excitedly. She got out and did ‘the walk’ again, and he gave a knowing wink before driving off. Rita was elated – she rocked at this game.

As she entered her room, she noticed it was tidy, too tidy. Bed laid, pillows neatly propped up, no clothes and underwear lying around, the wardrobes were shut, her standing mirror sparkled. Her shoes were all neatly stacked and there was a delicious fragrance in the air. She knew her sister-in-law, Laura, was responsible for it; she did it from time to time.

“How are you, Rita?” Laura asked, appearing behind her. “I cleaned your room; I hope you like it?”.

“Are you mocking me? I did not ask you to, I like it the way I left it” Rita retorted.

“I am not mocking you” Laura began. “I don’t believe I ever have, and I never would. You must believe that I truly care about you and love you. Not just because you’re Chidi’s sister, but because…”

With a dismissive wave of her hand, Rita cut her short and asked her to leave. It wasn’t the first time Laura would try preaching to her, it always started out with how she cared about her, and how much Jesus loves her and yearns for her to realize it. She wasn’t cut out for that crap. Jesus wasn’t paying her bills. She walked into her bathroom for a cold shower.

Rita and Chidi, were the only children of their late parents, and if not for the fact that Chidi was the only close relative she had left, he would have sent her out of his house a long time ago. Daily, Rita rode on the wings of his sentiments. At 27 she was unemployed and had no business of her own. Rita never stayed anywhere for more than 3 weeks before she’d pack up and leave. Chidi had given her capital several times to pursue her ludicrous business ideas, but the moment she made any money, she’d go on shopping sprees, and exhaust her income. She couldn’t keep her hands off anything she desired. Once, while she was a personal shopper, she borrowed the Gucci purse a client had ordered and paid for. It wasn’t due for delivery until Monday, so she used it to a wedding party on Saturday, only to stumble upon the client at the party. This client dragged her offline and online, the gist trended for a full week. Chidi had done his best and then left her to herself, it was only Laura that still tried.

It was the life she needed right now, and he was her ticket.

“See what Laura has caused now, she just spoiled my fine mood this morning”. Rita hissed. She picked up her phone and sent a WhatsApp chat to Anthony, her newfound friend, and potential ‘money-bag’ boyfriend “Thanks for the ride”. In their little time together in his car, she had gotten to know the things she needed to. He lives in Abuja where he owns and runs a multi-million-naira fashion outfit. He had plans to open a branch here in Lagos, and that was why he was around. He would be returning to Abuja in about a week, he’d head for Dubai two weeks after, and then stop over in Lagos, a good opportunity to see her again, before heading for Abuja.  Rita began to fantasize about how rich she was going to be once she got into a relationship with him. She would change her entire wardrobe, buy new shoes and bags, go on trips to Dubai and perhaps Santorini, get new gadgets, and take intimidating pictures and videos for the ‘gram’ and Snapchat. It was the life she needed right now, and he was her ticket.

Her phone rang and she realized it was Anthony calling. She picked it up and sweetly cooed “Hello Anthony”. Anthony replied and they began talking and laughing.

Suddenly Rita heard some noise from Anthony’s end and a woman spoke loudly and harshly, “Tony you spend all your time on the phone. Is this how you want to spend your life here in Nigeria too? Your father has insisted you would not be returning to the UK until I confirm to him that you’re behaving better! Good Lord! Tony, I don’t even want you here either, you’re such a bad influence on my kids, but I am stuck with you. What on earth is your problem? The vegetables you bought, do you expect me to go to the car and fetch them? Are you nuts or something?”

“Chai! Rita, you are such a fool!”

Rita listened to the outburst with rude shock, the woman speaking must have snatched the phone from Anthony while he was talking to her. She ended the call, got into her bed, and pulled the duvet over her head. “Chai! Rita, you are such a fool!”, she said to herself. She heard her phone ring; she knew it was Anthony, and the effrontery he had to call her back filled her eyes with fresh hot tears.

Mum Leaves Today

By
FK
-
15

Today my mother-in-law leaves us and returns home to her husband in Ogun State. I never thought I’d miss her this much. Much? I’ll miss her sorely already. I’ve been having heart palpitations for the last 2 days, from just thinking of caring for my baby without her. She arrived on 26th December 2021, 11 days before Aridunnuoba arrived. Mum is over 60, yet we went for long walks together almost every night before I delivered. Women in their 3rd trimester are encouraged to take walks as they prepare for labor, for me I was walking extra to induce labor. My due date was 28th December, at 39 weeks I had a membrane sweep. I wasn’t showing any labor signs and my doctor (the best one I ever met, by the way) wanted to make sure it came no later than 40weeks, still, nothing happened. At 41 weeks and 1 day (5th January), I went in for induced labor.

Mum was there every step of the way, making my meals, ensuring I wasn’t stressed, and praying for me. We got admitted on the evening of 5th January. Sadly, no private ward was available at the time, and so I was the only comfortable person of the 3 of us (myself, mum, and SA) in the room we shared with another woman. Mum sat all night watching me, while SA ran the errands. She was there (seated outside the procedure room) when I had my cervical ripening procedure, she was there in the lounge area all through midnight while I slept. They both left in the morning to freshen up and make me breakfast, I couldn’t help feeling sorry for mum, she looked like she needed a full day’s sleep.

At 8 am, I was to have a repeat of the cervical ripening procedure, seeing as I still wasn’t having any contractions. Upon checking my cervix though, the doctor exclaimed to the nurses – “wow! She’s 6cm dilated already! Please set her up for delivery, I’ll rupture her membrane now”. SA and mum arrived a couple of minutes after, and we asked mum to go to my room and get some decent sleep on my bed. I felt having her sit outside the labor ward listening to my wailing would give her a high BP –lol.  But trust mum, she couldn’t sleep, she was praying, I guess.

This isn’t the post where I describe my labor/delivery experience, that’s why I have left out many details, but just know this – once my contractions began, I quickly forgot Jackie Mize’s ‘Supernatural Childbirth’ lessons. Damn! How do we (women) go through that, and still have more babies?!!! I don’t get it.

Aridunnu arrived just past mid-day on 6th January, and as I was wheeled out of the labor ward, mum came towards me with so much love in her eyes, hugged me, and whispered – God bless you! It made me teary. I was happy we were past the whole thing, and we (particularly her) could now go home and rest. The realization hadn’t hit me, that work had just begun – especially for mum. We returned home on Saturday morning after Ari had her vaccine shots like a boss – no crying! Of course, mum did the carrying all through, besides the fact that I was hurting from my stitches, grandma couldn’t trust either SA or me with her grandchild just yet – lol.

For the next 3 weeks, mum did market runs, cooked all the meals, bathed & dressed Ari, bathed & massaged me with scalding hot water – the way my body burned, I wondered how her aged hands could even bear it each time. She went for all baby & mummy appointments, fed Ari, did midnight shifts, cleaned the house all the time, entertained guests, and still voluntarily funded some entertainment bills. She ministered to us ‘in cash and kind’ – as they say. Her selfless love was and remains overwhelming.

On days when it was obvious that SA and I weren’t in agreement over something, mum never interfered. There were times I had expected her to say something – iro o, mumcy would focus squarely on Ari, lol. Mum cared for Ari like she was an egg, and in the first 2 weeks, SA felt excluded (hehehehe). We worried about his beards disturbing her, we worried that his grip was too strong, and he didn’t always remember to lower his voice when we needed her to sleep, so it appeared as if we only wanted him to keep running errands but not carry his baby. SA grumbled about it all the time and even reported us to a few close folks that called -rotfl.

I doubt that mum will get to read this but, I am putting it out there more for the benefit of other people than for her – other MILs and DILs. She stayed with us for 6weeks and there was not one single moment where she and I had any issue (altercation, confrontation, misunderstanding – whatever, you name it), and this is a beautiful thing knowing how unpopular warmth and cordiality between MILs and DILs are. Oh, I certainly did not agree with every of mum’s styles and I am certain some of mine must have been weird to her, but acceptance was the priority. For instance, I love well-seasoned meals, while mum watches salt and Knorr sooo much, yet I ate her meals with joy and she ate mine the same way. When we had our last prayer session before her departure, she still remembered to apologize if peradventure she had wronged me without knowing at any time – I mean that should be my line naaaw.

Usually, people encourage that pregnant women should have their own mother with them for omugwo (after delivery) – this truly makes sense because they’re closer, and so much more used to each other. However, in agreement with both sides of the family, SA and I made a different plan, a rotational one that would keep Ari away from the creche till she’s about 8 months old. I do not regret it one bit, as I enjoyed having my MIL around, just as I would have enjoyed my own mum. Did I mention that she also added to the gift we gave my doctor?

There are still godly, and amazing mothers-in-Law out there, and I pray that you (if you’re still single) are blessed with one like mine. In fact, it feels weird calling her mother-in-law here, I used that term for clarity. I had been praying concerning my MIL since I was a teenager, and she is proof that God answers prayers. If you have one, and your experience is rather the opposite of what I have depicted here, I want you to know that when you pray with a good heart, God can give you the wisdom you need to win her over, or the grace and strength you need to tolerate her. Either way, be determined to be a good DIL yourself, and even when you misbehave, apologize humbly, and forge on. Oluwa will do it for you.

Do say a word of prayer for my MIL. God bless you!

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