My parents christened me Samoina, a name which has seen me get many more (nick)names, but one which stuck (and which I loved) was C-mone, more palatable for the many tongues if you asked me. Mummy tells me my name was the result of a cultural fusion, English and Maasai. Why the latter you ask? Because I have Maasai roots, paternal ones.
For the most part, my life has been a wild ride, with its ups and downs as is the case for all of us. Years before my son was born, post-campus, I was the typical party animal, hopping from one place to another, basically ‘turning it up’ or enjoying life because it was ‘lit’, not that there is anything wrong with that, but for me it was like going into a rabbit hole. I turned up till I could turn up no more, well, I just lied. I turnt up until 3 weeks into my pregnancy, and the realization that I was carrying life within me altered my life’s trajectory (for the better in the long run, but at the time, it brought my life to a stand still).
My pregnancy was fluid for the most part, save for a threatened miscarriage 8 weeks into my pregnancy, on my 24th birthday. Looking back, this has got to be the most precious birthday present, that God would preserve the life of my unborn child and keep him to term. Needless to say, this was, in retrospect, the turning point of my life, a crucial point. In hindsight, this is where my Postpartum Depression – PPD- stemmed from.
In January of 2012, my son Jayden was born. His name means ‘grateful to God’, and that is what I was, continue to be: grateful for the blessing and miracle that my son is. His biological father has not played any major role in my life, or my son’s for that matter. Over the years, I am beginning to understand that a father need not be the man who sired the child; rather, a real father is one who guides, disciplines, admonishes and celebrates the child. One who makes a conscious deliberate effort to be present for the child through the different stages of their lives. And there are many dads out there living it up, amazing job y’all doing.
My son’s birth, while bringing lots of joy and the new lease of life in motherhood, brought with it a dark cloud that would continue to loom over my head for a couple more years. The dreaded PostPartum Depression (PPD). At the time, I did not know what it was, but what I knew is that I was almost always angry, depressed, disappointed, feeling like a failure, and subconsciously feeling like motherhood was to blame. At some point I was suicidal, figured it was better to just, exit to the left, upwards, wherever, it didn’t matter.
I’d wish to say it is easy to just ‘snap out of it’, but it is not. It is the pain, and subsequent triumph over PPD that birthed the idea of a blog, as far back as 2013, but I held back. What do I have to share? What do I have to say? What will they say? That will be sharing too much. All these frenzied thoughts joined my mental panic train, and remained operational for a long while.
As of August 2016, I started attending therapy sessions which have put so so much in perspective, and certainly helped in my recovery process. In a few posts like this and that one, I share the lessons picked. It is my hope that many more moms can get the help they need. If you feel you need help, please get in touch using the Contact Form here. Wondering where to start? This post provides an introduction of sorts to this form of perinatal mental disorder. I share my story extensively in this post as well.
The lingering desire to share my story, share my journey, persisted. And here I am today. I pray, hope, trust, that this blog will encourage someone, that this blog will inspire another mother, that in these words, we will find God’s abundant grace. Welcome to my blog. Feel free to drop your thoughts, comments or feedback below.