My Guardian Angel

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A painting of a baby held by a parent.

He’s on my mind a lot nowadays.

He was a soldier. I call him that because I know he fought really hard to stay with his mammy and I never, not for once, take for granted that seven months I held him in my arms and he was my little boy.

I miss him a lot.

I was sure that with Chimamanda here I would think of him less, but I remember every step of the way like it was yesterday. The way he used to cry. He was so soft you would barely hear him; which was funny, but I am remorseful now that I think of it. Was it because he was in pain? He was so full of life and oh how he smiled. He would lift his entire head and a million dollar smile from the heart would emerge. This happened even when he was breastfeeding - just a mention of his name and with a mouth filled with milk he would still give his mammy a smile.

I wish these tears were not here now for such priceless moments I got to enjoy. They are safely tucked in the back of my mind and nothing can take that away.

I miss him.

The pain of losing a child, can even time heal this?

I know am blessed to have my rainbow baby Chimamanda. She'll slowly balm this wound and maybe when I think of her big brother I will only have good memories to think of, like how he had my little feet, my nose, eyes - just a clear copy of me, and how he used to sing himself to sleep. The world missed this talent for sure. Or how he used to be one quiet boy who always seemed deep in thought. We would go to forums together and at the end people would be shocked there was even a baby. I acquired my entrepreneurship skills with him in my arms the entire time. Such a doll. I wish he lived long enough to share with me the products, an award-winning business plan and a business that saw the lives of young mams like me when we I with him, changed even if for a short time.

But...

Maybe out of fear or completion of mourning what is stuck in my mind is that fateful day I lost a big piece of my heart; that tears seemed to betray the moment. That afterwards I would try not to breathe so I would die too. That life lost all meaning. That dark dark day!!! I thought the world would know and be grey as my life had just turned, or people would stop laughing and cry and break as my heart had done, but life continued as usual. How cruel death is together with the oblivion of the world.

It happens like a flash, the memory, I had him covered up and I would check on him from time to time and wished I had a jet since this matatu was a drag. Then he started choking!!! He was wheezing the whole night and I left home very early for the hospital. He had been coughing for about three months now. It would become worse after every clinic visit until he was diagnosed with Pneumonia just two weeks prior to this day at the same health facility we were heading to.

Then I felt a pang so heavy all the way to my bowels and I started unwrapping him crying, calling his name so frantically that a woman sitting behind us took him. A three worded prayer was all I could think, " Please God help" over and over and over again in the midst of chokes, tears, running nose and looking back to him and back to prayer. At some point a young man was pumping his chest, at some other point another woman was undressing him further, another was asking me to call my mam, I think I threw her my phone or something.

How can life change just like that in an instant?

By the time we got to the ER, the same woman who was probably going to work, and another who I think called my mam, were carrying my boy and my belongings and I sat waiting for the doctors to do what they do best, but the doctor just laid him on his stomach and they all looked at me. He was not moving. NO! NO! NO! NO NO NO............................

I could not imagine going through this again, I could not bear it again I know. Every night before you go to sleep, please pray for my Chimamanda. We need all the prayers in the world so that this princess lives to blow 100 plus candles. That is all I ask.

Stories
Kenya