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ELDER ABUSE AWARENESS MONTH Q&A
FRIDAY, JULY 1st 2022
INTERVIEW WITH
VIMPI NURSING ASSOCIATES
One of our core values at MaMo is to care for and treat everybody with love, dignity, and respect.
June was Elder Abuse Awareness Month.
World Elder Abuse Awareness Day was June 15th, and was launched 2006 by the International Network for the Prevention of Elder Abuse and the World Health Organization at the United Nations.
Taking the time to care for our elders led us to a start-up that caters to the elderly as well as the sick.
VIMPI® Nursing Associates (VIMPI) is a home care and nursing staffing agency. They understand the needs of seniors and the sick and make it possible for our loved ones to enjoy the best quality of life possible.
1. When did VIMPI Nursing Associates open its doors and what is VIMPI all about?
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VIMPI Nursing Associates (VIMPI) started operating in 2013. VIMPI is a health care provider. We provide care services to patients in their home or hospital. VIMPI is owned and operated by a team of licensed and certified healthcare professionals. At VIMPI, we understand the needs of patients who wish to remain at home and maintain their quality of life and their families. Our caregivers are available 24 hours a day, seven days a week.
2. Is VIMPI an acronym? If so, what does it stand for?
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The name VIMPI originates from the first names of the original 5 founding registered nurses, and the acronym represents our values. These values are part of our company’s DNA. They guide the way we work with our patients, families, business partners, our communities and with each other.
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Value (for money)
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Integrity
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Mindful
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Patient-Centered
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Inclusive
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3. Who is your ideal client/patient?
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Inclusion is one of our values. Therefore, at VIMPI we welcome all patients and clients. VIMPI caters to all patients whether at home or in the hospital.
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4. Who can hire VIMPI?
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Whether your loved one is sick, or you are concerned because they are getting older and require help or need someone to check on a family member with chronic conditions requiring regular blood pressure or blood sugar checks at home you can contact us. We are aware that many in the diaspora are worried about their elderly relatives, and we strive to be very responsive.
5. What do you look for when hiring your nurses?
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Our caregivers are trained auxiliary nurses/nursing assistants. All our caregivers must have attended our 3-month training program or an equivalent and should have some experience caring for the elderly or the sick.
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6. Can you please describe your 2 most popular plans?
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Our 2 most popular plans are:
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the 8-hour day shift which is perfect for working professionals. We provide care for your loved ones so that you can go to work with peace of mind.
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the 12-hour night shift is ideal for patients who need a bit more help at night. Families like this package because our caregivers are there to respond to their loved ones so they can rest and not worry.
7. What additional training is given to your staff?
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In addition to the caregiver, our packages also include supervised visit by a qualified nurse. On these supervised visits, the nurse will provide valuable on-the-job training to the caregivers as required which includes guidance and oversight.
8. Any advice for prospective clients?
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We understand that caring for the sick, elderly and chronically ill at home can be stressful and our training includes communication, work ethics and empathy. Our caregivers are trained to provide care to patients and respect the privacy of the family.
9. Anything more you’ll like to add to let the community know more about VIMPI?
VIMPI team of qualified nurses has got collectively over 100 years nursing experience and deliver quality care through our well-trained caregivers who offer 24 hours home care services as required.
10. Since June was elder abuse awareness month, do you have any parting words you’ll like to add?
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Elderly or senior abuse is now common in Africa, even though as Africans we are well known to be family-oriented and for living within extended families and thus caring for each other.
But despite the good intentions to care for the extended family, the reality is that the extended family system is fading away especially in the urban area. Therefore, the primary family caregiver becomes over-burdened and without adequate support they can get burnt out and this may make their loved ones vulnerable to verbal abuse and even physical abuse.
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As a home care service provider, we are aware of the elderly being abused in many forms. Some examples noted are neglect, poor and inadequate feeding, mismanaging and depriving the elderly of their personal finances, verbal, and even physical abuse.
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VIMPI as a care giving agency would advocate for the government’s support in putting in place legislations that will protect the rights, safety, and dignity of the elderly in The Gambia. Lastly, to raise awareness on the abuse of the elderly within our communities thus helping to fight and eradicate abuse of the elderly!
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You can find VIMPI Nursing Associates on FB @vimpinurses
To contact them, please call (+220) 787 8571 or e-mail them at vimpinurses@gmail.com.
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fathers' day special
SUNDAY, JUNE 19th 2022
Dr. Ismail Badjie
Meet our latest contributor, Dr Ismail Badjie. Born in Banjul, The Gambia and raised in Belgium and New York, USA.
Dr. Badjie holds a Bachelor’s Degree in Chemistry (2008) from Tennessee State University in Nashville, Tennessee - a HBCU (Historically Black Colleges and Universities) and a Doctorate in Pharmacy (PharmD, 2013) at Purdue University in West Lafayette, Indiana.
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He is a husband and a father. In this piece he speaks about his journey of being a #girldad and the important role his wife Adama plays in it.
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He is also co-founder of InnovaRx Global Health LTD (IGH), a premier start-up clinical services and technology solutions company complementing The Gambia‘s healthcare system.​
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IGH serves as a bridge between modern healthcare solutions, affordable and quality access to all Gambians and subsequently, surrounding West African nations!
My true north
ARTICLE BY DR. ISMAIL BADJIE
The birth of my daughter, Isha Haddy, nearly four years ago on September 22nd, 2018, will always be the day my heart was awakened to feel and receive a brand of love that was truly unconditional. An overwhelming first step into a journey of fatherhood that would forever change how I see the world.
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I find it quite odd that prior to our ultrasound visit months into our pregnancy, I had never conceptualized life with a daughter. Not sure if it is society’s way of programming men to seek that flawed narrative of “young Simba” who grows up to be king, but here I was grappling with the news of being a newly minted #GirlDad!
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A revelation that was as exciting as it was filled with anxiety. She would not come with an instruction manual and I knew deep down, new layers of vulnerability were to be exposed in a way I had never experienced.
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Fast forward to present-day Isha Haddy giving her first public speech at the age of three, being an encapsulation of the wonderful journey of fatherhood I have been on since her birth. The past years have provided steady doses of black girl magic, watching her blossom with varying strokes of brilliance and idiosyncrasy, familiar to both her mother and me. (She still is a copy-paste version of me!)
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God has already started stroking his paintbrush to highlight the hues and contours that will be her life capacity, using our blood as paint and our DNA as a blank canvas.
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Every iteration of her growth and development since birth has infused me with joy which I could not have imagined. Her intuitiveness, curiosity, wit, and sense of humor constantly serve as pure oxygen in my life.
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A muse she has truly become - fiddling with all the strings of my heart to a spiritual tune no woman has ever been able to amplify.
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The backdrop of the journey, however, has also been filled with intermittent doses of guilt and sorrow considering the crazy turn in my life attending to another child (my budding start-up business InnovaRx) that has robbed me of so many nights when I couldn’t hold her and read bedtime stories to the love of my life.
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Balancing the polar extremes of pure bliss and emotional guilt has defined so much of my experience as a father. A rollercoaster many adults experience as they become fathers while balancing the raging demands of a professional career, often designed to disrupt all aspects of work-life balance.
Beneath my tall frame lies minefields of insecurity, anxiety, and vulnerability, with the daily price she pays because of my ambition. The impatience with my work now, I’ve realized, is a constant race against the calcification of her memories of me being constantly away. I’ll always wish I could get some moments of her infancy back, but a reorientation of my compass would not have happened without the pain absence has caused.
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Fatherhood has also given me whole new respect for mothers seeing the physical, mental and emotional sacrifice her mother (Adama) makes daily to maintain her sustenance. I remember vividly seeing my wife’s strength shine through 18 hours of labor, thinking no superficial layers of my muscular frame could ever match her sinew.
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I would have died!
No wonder most African men traditionally stay out of the delivery room (my father included). I think witnessing a woman sacrifice her body to bring a child into this world should forever calibrate the required level of adoration and respect she deserves for the rest of her existence.
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I could never repay my wife Adama for the heaven-sent gift Isha Haddy is to me.
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Even after birth, there’s little credit I can take for Isha’s growth to date, knowing the level of grace and patience Adama has afforded me over the past few years I’ve spent more nights on the road chasing my dream than at home with them.
This unsettling reality has always been symbolic of generations of absentee fatherhood that have plagued our family line. A disposition acceptable in a society that glorifies the tale of the ambitious and courageous man always returning home with depleted energy stores incapable of tilling the emotional soils of their children.
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A by-product of my relationship with my daughter has consequently been deep introspection about my relationship with my father. Taking inventory of the facets of our relationship that shaped the man I am today.
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The irony of my relationship with my father is that all the moments spent away from Isha Haddy over the past two years have been extended periods with him being back at home (Gambia), where he is now retired after a long career. I often say we are getting to know each other for the first time in our lives (at 36 and 71 years old respectively) and, to a certain extent, it is true.
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My Father, like many African fathers in his generation, saw fatherhood only through the lens of provision and discipline, often mortgaging away the tactile requirements of nurturing to exhausted mothers often caught rationing out love and attention to multiple children with varying needs.
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As an adult, being able to unpack the effects of such a dynamic between a father and child that felt more like a professional autocratic relationship has left me with many undesirable aspects I choose not to incorporate into my fatherhood toolbox.
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I had a father whose love language from day one was ambition and achievement. And boy, did he inject it into my veins. I attribute so much of my confidence and self-belief to his priming and psychological programming, even if the package came with side effects of him not being in tune with my emotions and vulnerabilities.
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Being the middle child of five kids, I, therefore, grew up with thoughts and views divergent from what was considered family doctrine mandated by my father. I was the rebel in the house who was most emotionally independent and forced my way to dance to my beat even at the cost of the usual beatings and disciplinary actions of my dad.
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Like me, my father was dedicated to his career in a way that left little time for conversations around topics that had no predetermined dominant voice. I don’t recall having any deep conversations about love, financial literacy, wealth creation, spirituality, sex, or any pressing matter that is called for democratized engagement. He was intermittently present in mind and attention, even if his lingering expectations of what we were to become hovered over us from Alaska to Johannesburg.
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Growing up, it was quite normal that dad was always away at work, sometimes in another country. Society always gave an excuse to fathers not being present in the day-to-day lives of their kids as long as their status in society and jobs provided ample “security” and a constant roof over the heads of their children.
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Unpacking the effects of a long-desired exploration of who he is and him knowing who I was as a child and now adult initially came with a bit of resentment.
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I journeyed so much of my life without him really knowing my real-time mental and emotional calibrations, but how could I demand such emotional intelligence from a man born into a polygamous family and who lost his own father when he was only 10 years old?
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His story as a child is filled with tragedy, being the victim of all the complexities of an unforgiving, patriarchal African polygamous family.
He never had the tools to lean into fatherhood with confidence, knowing which levers to push and pull to create wholesome relationships with all his kids at a deep emotional level. He overachieved in the fatherhood department, knowing none of us at any point felt like we lacked loved and protection from him.
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Ultimately, any father’s capacity is often influenced by their experience as a son and in that regard, my father accomplished a tremendous feat when compared to his father. I think the demands of fatherhood have evolved from an era where provision and protection reign supreme over what was deemed fickle needs for constant emotional involvement.
Now, as two adults, our intergenerational conversations have evolved into heated dinner table banter between men who see the world differently sometimes.
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I’ve grown to ask him hard questions about his life to help make sense of mine. Stories about his relationship with his dad (and family) that, for decades, had been hidden in the annals of discomfort reveal a level of emotional fortitude that allowed him to navigate all the storms in his life.
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Grace and understanding of all the trauma the void of an active father left in him have allowed me to shape my relationship with my daughter and finally start breaking some of the generational cycles. Putting in intentional efforts to improve on the design, he handed over to me. A complete 2018 fatherhood software update from his 1985 version.
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The fact that I end every conversation with my daughter by verbally telling her “I Love You” is earth-shattering innovation in fatherhood in my family. Three potent words that have an unclenching and cathartic effect most children growing up in African homes never had the privilege of hearing.
My relationship with my father has now developed into a fraternal type of love where we both have a level of agency in our thoughts and can express them freely. I embody so many of his gifts and traits that there's always a subconscious acknowledgement of our inherent nature. I have grown to love him for who he is and have never felt the absence of his steadfast love and support.
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Curiosity has guided my relationship with my daughter ever since she was born. Every day brings new questions and observations about her surrounding that I am so eager to learn. Ask her how she feels and thinks about everything to make her realize it is in questioning the oddities of life that knowledge and wisdom are found.
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I cannot wait to have deep conversations about faith and religion with her. Make her understand that spirituality (which was born in her) will and should always be the guiding principle in her life (Not Religion). Guard her mind against the narration of God’s love for us humans from a perspective of a man’s dominance and female submission as told by many religious texts.
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Her being raised Muslim is of importance but simply as a foundation of her faith and a viable avenue for cultivating an individual relationship with God that will breed wholesome virtues of good moral character in her.
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I hope that as she grows and attains maturity in her intellectual and logical faculties, she will have the courage to explore and read scriptures from Christianity, Hinduism, Buddhism, and traditional African religions to find the common thread of grace, love (Not Fear), and protection from a higher power in them all. Spiritual gateways to discovering the God inside of her.
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I cannot wait to have conversations about the love and betrayal she is bound to experience especially after having my unconditional love as a benchmark that will shape the quality of steadfast love she will seek in other men programmed from birth with the privilege of always having agency in choice.
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I wonder sometimes how I could guard her against the different seasons of heartbreak she is bound to face, but am certain that her cup of love will always be so full leaving the house, it will serve as an invisible cloak to weather all storms. She will never have an iota of doubt that she is loved beyond ever needing another man to validate her worthiness. I still need to convince her to rid herself of the western notion of taking another man's last name!
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I cannot wait to have a conversation about the need to not do extraordinary things in life as a way of receiving love and approval from me. I will be a safety net that allows her to fall and be propelled back up into the sky. That emotional pit stop that allows her to acknowledge the weariness of life she will have to navigate alone sometimes.
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So much of the urgency to attain financial freedom in our life right now (as parents) is geared towards allowing her to choose her path in life from a place of seeking fulfillment in a life of purpose and not from a place of desperation.
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Being “Born Again” is often a term referred to a moment of awakening and renewing one’s dedication to God, but being Isha’s father has been nothing short of a spiritual awakening for me.
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Being a father of a daughter has exposed me to how unbalanced and often neglecting the world, our African societies and families, are to the plight of a woman. Especially a BLACK WOMAN.
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A world where women’s agency to choose and define life on their terms is still held captive by the stranglehold of patriarchy and toxic masculinity.
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I etched her name with ink on my shoulder when she was born because for the first time in my life; I knew there was a commitment to love and protection that was forever going to be non-negotiable.
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Isha Haddy has become my true north and has affected and influenced every decision in my life since the day she was born.
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Sometimes I feel like she is growing up to have an uncanny radar for my emotional dispositions to know when exactly to provide a warm embrace that dissipates all my worries into thin air.
The therapeutic effects of her smile and warm gaze being something I yearn for knowing I will always be a hero in her eyes.
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I love her more than life itself and my greatest ambition will always be for Isha to grow to know my authentic self, not as the world may see me, but just as her perfectly imperfect father.
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A father who, through the gift of a daughter and manifestations of a version of myself born again through her, has a second chance at erasing all the pitfalls of fatherhood from generations past.
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So to all my fathers out there, especially my dad and older brother Malick,
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Happy Father’s day!
Check out his IG @drismailbadjie & @innovarxglobal
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Mental Health Awareness Month Q&A
TUESDAY, MAY 31st 2022
INTERVIEW WITH
STACEY PROM
Here at MaMo, Mental Health is a huge focus for us and we have spent this month pushing that message and helpful tools on our social media platforms. To wrap things up, we wanted to speak to a mental health awareness advocate who is brave enough to share her personal story and ongoing battle with depression and anxiety.
In her words, ‘A community that values privacy over the wellbeing of its people is one to dismantle!’. Meet Stacey Prom, Executive MBA candidate, wife, foodie, social media micro influencer and advocate. Her take on the stigma of mental health in our communities and her journey of getting help, growth and managing her diagnoses is one many can learn from.
1. What mental health condition are you diagnosed with?
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Depression + Anxiety
2. Can you share more about what it is?
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Depression and anxiety are mental disorders that affect your brain. It disrupts the chemical imbalance which in turn alters your mood, health & way of life. Experiencing long bouts of sadness, self isolation, abandoning self care etc are the many symptoms of depression that can occur from person to person. Mental illnesses for the most part, do not discriminate. It can affect any individual irrespective of race, religion or status. Because of all its intricacies, disorders as such can be hard to diagnose or treat.
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3. When were you diagnosed and how did you feel after receiving the diagnosis?
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I was diagnosed with depression at age 23, a few years later, anxiety was added to the mix. I think it’s important to delve into how difficult it was to accept or come to terms with my diagnoses. Depression wasn’t an anomaly to me, it was a topic that I briefly studied in University. It did not dawn on me that it's disrespectful introduction into my life meant it was here to stay. Denial ensued. Depressed? Me? Absolutely not. I was happy! I was and still am the life of any party. Life was pretty okay. What reason did I have to be depressed? Clearly it was something that I was going to snap out of, right? Wrong. Months went by and it became unbearable to perform daily tasks. Family intervened, leading to my diagnosis. However, I was unprepared for what it came with.
4. What made you decide to get help?
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Family (my siblings in particular)
5. What was life like before seeking help?
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Unfortunately, I do not remember a play by play of my life prior to the diagnosis. I would imagine that I was good on the outside, of course, on track to finish my master’s program, killing at a job I liked and just doing the mundane, everyday things. Red flags were overlooked due to unfamiliarity. Knowing what you know, allowing others to ease in to offer help, accepting and welcoming said help are all encompassing.
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6. How do you manage your symptoms or work through episodes?
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Medication, exercise, therapy, support from family and friends.
Stacey's Siblings
7. How has therapy/seeking help changed your life?
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Therapy has always been a safe haven. It has afforded a healthy medium between myself and my feelings. A place to express my shortcomings without judgment. I resonated with stories heard during group therapies and thrived during one-on-one sessions. As a strong advocate for therapy, I urge everyone to seek it. Keep an open mind. Booking a single appointment a decade ago changed my perspective and views on mental health. I am able to live a full life, setting and reaching attainable goals- a true testament of how beneficial therapy has been and continues to be, for me.
8. With the stigma of mental health in our culture, were you ever embarrassed for people to know about your diagnosis? If you were embarrassed, what made you change your mind and choose to be open?
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I was embarrassed about the stigma associated with mental health disorders as opposed to my diagnosis. Deciding to go public with my diagnosis was another hurdle I was prepared to bypass. A community that values privacy over the well-being of its people is one to dismantle! We needed to do our part to change the narrative. It quickly became more about preventing the loss of human life and less about my personal feelings. Narrating my story on social media was a no brainer. Against all warnings and implications, I shared an intimate letter discussing my brutal journey with depression. It prioritized treatment options, expressed candid feelings and traumas brought on by depression and reiterated hope in the midst of adversity.
9. Do you have any advice for anyone going through mental health conditions?
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Firstly - it is not your fault. Depression is not who YOU are, it is what YOU have. It is a heart wrenching, oftentimes - debilitating illness but treatment is available and possible, only if you allow it. Give yourself grace to process feelings of guilt and confusion accompanied by the diagnosis. Surround yourself with people that will prioritize your mental health, provide a safe space for you to offload your negative feelings because those feelings too are valid. Seek and accept help. Reach out to professionals or trusted friends to assist you on your path to recovery. Do not be compelled to share your journey with anyone or on any platform until you are ready. I am rooting for you.
10. Any parting words you’ll like to add to close up mental health awareness month?
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Visit nimh.nih.gov for resources, mental health screening and advice on how to navigate your symptoms. Also - Normalize Mental Health Awareness!
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Check out her IG @_staceyprom and TikTok @staceyprom
House of MaMo interview with Stacey Prom
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Motherhood: My Story
SUNDAY, MAY 8th 2022
If you ask me what motherhood means to me, my answer will always be the same. It is a fierce, unconditional and unwavering love! It is strength and power from deep within that you never thought you were capable of. It is letting go of the idea of perfection and control; it is accepting mistakes and failures; and learning to control and balance that urge to protect, love on, discipline and teach. Before the first 6 months with my second child, I would say the aforementioned is an apt description of my experience as a mom. Today, my toddler is about to be two years old and boy have I learnt a few things. In 2020 I did a piece where I shared my experience as an African Boy Mom. I touched on the challenges of raising kids with food allergies and asthma as well as my postpartum depression. The feedback I received after it was published was overwhelming. I was unprepared for the impact it had on so many people. I got phone calls, texts, DMs, you name it; everyone applauding my bravery for stepping outside my comfort zone and sharing something so personal to me.
I was grateful for the reassurance but I came out of it feeling like everyone just focused on 10 lines out of dozens that shared so many beautiful parts of being a mom. This was reinforced when I noticed some people treating me differently. They started to walk on eggshells around me. And I felt pitied. And that infuriated me because I felt like I failed in the delivery of my message. I wanted those who read it to come out of it feeling like yes, motherhood is tough, and will knock you down sometimes but you just have to keep getting back up. And the victory is in raising a happy well adjusted little boy/girl. I wanted women who are going through what I went through to know there is light at the end of the tunnel and you will get through it. I decided then, that if i was ever to do something like that again, I wanted to make sure people saw and felt the entire journey and appreciated both the good and bad.
My boys are 6 and 22 months old and my house is a rolling movie set. Tijan is transitioning into the quiet boy that either wants to be left alone to play video games and watch TV or off visiting his cousins. He lifts his head up long enough to make statements/comments that leave you trying to pick your jaw up from the floor. Khalil gave me my first gray hair and I have found many more since he started walking. He will put ketchup in his rui (porridge) if you let him and eats 24/7. If you are a Njien please be careful procreating with a Senghore. The combination is dangerous! Khalil is a daddy's boy through and through. Eats, sleeps, talks and does everything else like his dad. Even their snoring has evolved into a symphony-like rhythm. Everyday they do something new that has me tears-in-my-eyes laughing or wanting to pull my hair out.
I am watching Tijan learn how to be a big brother and learn to share his parents. He is learning not to be jealous of his dad and little brother’s relationship and everyday he is getting better at it. He is slowly growing into that awesome big brother to Khalil that he is to his younger cousins. In quiet moments on the couch watching yet another episode of ‘Dave and Ava’ or Cocomelon (when Khalil wins the remote fight), I catch them tickling each other or having pillow fights. They always kiss each other goodnight, even if one goes down first. Khalil is usually the one doing the kissing because my kids just don’t seem to need sleep before the age of 4. Some nights I will find them asleep in the same bed and as far away from each other as possible. But as I move to tuck them in properly, I find them holding hands. In moments like these, my heart feels like it's too big for my chest.
For the past 6 years we have struggled with food and dust allergies and asthma with Tijan. When Khalil was born and showed symptoms of the same allergies and new ones, we were dealt a huge blow. Everyone said it was very unlikely it would happen again. But we were better prepared this time. The breastfeeding process was more challenging but well worth it. Khalil was an easy baby and slept so much better than Tijan ever did. It dawned on us that perhaps if I was on the same diet with Tijan as I did with Khalil, he would have been a different baby. All the crying and discomfort now made sense. My breast milk then wasn’t best for him. Today, Khalil is able to digest gluten, soy and can handle foods that contain dairy. He eats cake with icing without incident and has even tried vanilla ice cream and rui with milk. With each new discovery we are so excited. Then we get to see the look on Tijan’s face as he watches his little brother enjoy all the little things he can’t get to have and it is heartbreak all over again. Everytime he cries for an explanation as to why his brother can now have cake and ice cream and he can’t. How do you explain to a 6 year old that life sometimes just isn’t fair and we aren’t all dealt the same cards?
Tijan & Khalil
To those who know me, being a private person is something I take to the extreme. I am a pessimist to the core. I am untrusting. I have walls behind the walls I put up and more walls behind those. But being called brave for saying I experienced Postpartum Depression somehow felt disingenuous. To me being brave would be completing lifting the veil behind the difficulties of motherhood today and not just the perfectly scripted/put together images and videos we see on social media and the movies. Brave would be saying I went to hell and back and I am TIRED. Brave would be talking about how depression cut me into pieces, tossed me around like a rag doll and the monumental effort it took to build myself up back again. To find myself again. This new version of Peh I had to get to know, love inside out and accept. This Peh with new flaws and shortcomings. This Peh that is not so super anymore. This Peh has more physical changes that remind me everyday of the disappointment of another failed birth plan. But most of all it taught me FEAR. I am afraid of how many things can go wrong. I am afraid of having another child. I am afraid of not being here for my boys. And for months after Khalil’s birth I was ruled by that fear. Today, I am cognisant of it, but not ruled or defined by it.
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I have heard about preeclampsia before and I knew it was dangerous. When I was diagnosed at 24 weeks, I went online and did my research. I was concerned but confident in my doctor’s (Dr. Diagne, Edinburg, Texas, USA) ability to stay on top of it and give me the best care possible. It was a departure from my experience with my doctor in The Gambia in the first 20 weeks of my pregnancy. When I found out I was pregnant with Khalil I was advised to try a different hospital and doctor in the country. I had a great orientation and they did blood work right away and set me up with a midwife. Things were already looking up. After my second appointment with the doctor, I started to feel anxious because he was very dismissive of my complaints and his answer for everything was ‘It’s a part of pregnancy.’
I am what they call ‘heebon’ (excuse the spelling! Rough translation is ‘sickly’). I have been sickly all my life and have gone through a lot of doctors and nurses. I have learnt early on to understand my body and to know when things just aren’t right. Late in my first trimester I was really struggling with keeping food down. My ‘morning sickness’ was all day long and I was exhausted. I also suffer from Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS) and it flared up really bad. For weeks I complained to my doctor that I could not eat, was constantly vomiting and tired all the time. His response? ‘Your IBS was there before pregnancy, it will be there during and after.’ Two days later I was hospitalized for severe dehydration and exhaustion. He walked in during rounds and saw me. He offered no words of reassurance or apology. The next day I asked for a new doctor.
At 32 weeks my pre-eclampsia was getting worse and I was in and out of the doctors, constant monitoring and was placed on a no salt diet. At 33 weeks, my doctor informed me that he had noticed my blood platelet count was decreasing. He told me it was a concern but reassured me that he would monitor it. He was due to travel for 3 days and told me to make sure I took care of myself and not go into premature labor because he wanted to make sure he was around. He was totally on board with helping me have a VBAC this time around and knew with my history and being diagnosed with preeclampsia, any other doctor would operate right away and not risk a natural delivery. On Friday night, I struggled going up the stairs but I figured it was just the baby getting bigger and heavier. That night after my shower I was listening to music and tried singing along but I couldn't catch my breath but I didn't think much of it. I woke up Saturday morning uncomfortable and struggling to catch my breath. Breathing issues in the middle of the COVID pandemic? Yeah, I was scared shitless! I called my doctor and he asked me to go to the hospital right away and would meet me there. Then he calls to tell me that he has asked them to do a Covid test and some bloodwork. All I heard was Covid test! The nurse came in and explained it would take 30 minutes and we would get the results and then proceed from there. LONGEST minutes of my life! Twenty minutes later, a bunch of doctors and nurses came into the room. They were talking to each other, giving and receiving instructions, IV line setup, wristbands, different monitors being wheeled in. I was like yup. I got Covid. I’m gonna die! CHALIT.COM.
A few minutes later, a doctor walks in and pulls up a chair and sits next to me. I have watched enough Grey’s Anatomy to know he wasn’t about to say anything good. He informed me that I had thrombocytopenia and that my platelet count was dangerously low. I had to have an emergency C-Section right away. It was so low that if the surgery wasn’t performed in the next couple of hours, the anaesthesiologist would not give me any anesthesia because of liability and the fact that I would most likely bleed to death on the table. My doctor once again called me to reassure me that he was on his way, he was taking care of everything and it would all be ok. Those words of comfort and reassurance were everything to me. Within the next two hours I had a successful surgery with no complications and my little guy was here. Because he was considered late preterm there was a good chance he was going to be fine to go home. There wasn't time to give me a shot to help mature his lungs further but chances were that wouldn’t be an issue. What a relief right? I mean God was really looking out for me because my doctor was due to travel the next morning!
Within hours Khalil had to be moved to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) because he was struggling to breathe on his own. The next images I got of him were him covered in tubes. Tubes from the CPAP machine, iv line, feeding tube and more.. I couldn’t go to see him and he couldn’t come to me. Mamie would run back and forth between my room and the NICU so I could see how he was doing and get updates. On day three I was finally able to go see him but I could only hold his hand. On day five, I got to hold him for the first time and he was so tiny. I think about the current state of our healthcare system and I can without a doubt say if I was in The Gambia, I would be another statistic. Another young mother needlessly lost. I am grateful to be here.
Looking at Khalil today, you would never guess it is the same child. This is also thanks to the excellent care we have received at Westfield clinic with Dr. Palmer, Dr. Garba, Rohey Sallah, Nurse Amie and the entire staff. One thing I have learnt is the importance of always having medical professionals in your corner that fight for you and your child. But also having your own voice and fighting for yourself. Read, talk to other moms, educate yourself. Never be afraid to ask questions. You might not be lucky enough to have a Dr. Diagne or a Dr. Palmer in your corner. Sometimes you have to fight for yourself!
It’s well after 9 PM right now. The boys still won’t go down and are chasing each other around. I have Yiruma playing in the background just like I did when I was pregnant with them. Soon they will settle and fall asleep to the notes of ‘Maybe’. It feels like we have come full circle. I wonder if spending so much time during Covid alone gave me time to reflect and center myself but I finally feel at peace. The anxiety I constantly carried around is no more. The worrying never goes away but I am more confident in my ability as a parent. I am grounded and sure. With Tijan, I lost myself and who I was as an individual. I was too hard on myself. I struggled to find my way but I persevered. Khalil ignited a fire in me. A confidence in myself I am not sure I ever had. But most of all, he has taught me grace. To give myself grace. That it’s ok to not be perfect all the time. That it’s ok to make mistakes. That I will fail sometimes and that’s ok too. With that acceptance comes comfort, contentment and surety within myself.
I am free, I am enough,
I AM SUPER PEH!
By Modupeh Njie-Senghore
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