Parenting was an easy plight when you don’t have kids. I thought I nailed the parenting business before my kids arrived but I couldn’t be more wrong. It was a long winding tunnel of challenges.

My first girl arrived packed with punches. With extra two weeks overdue, I was induced to kickstart her arrival. As labour progressed, she showed signs of distress after 14 hours of intense labour and was delivered through cesarean section.

The first few hours of being a mother was filled with uncertainty, misery and confusion. I laid helplessly on the intensive unit bed bleeding my life out, while my new baby cried nonstop for four straight hours.

The medical team at St Thomas Hospital London hovered above me trying desperately to stop me from bleeding to death while my girl wailed. The midwives on duty took turn in pacifying her, surprised by the hour old baby vocal strength.

Exhausted by the 15 hour long labour , the emergency cesarean and hours of bleeding, my body weakened and I soon slumped into a deep slumber.

Surviving The Birth Ordeal

I woke up staring at the white corrugated ceiling of the hospital ward wondering where I was. The time was 2:15AM, the air cold and still. The bed I laid on was elevated and secluded within the cubicle of divider curtains.

Suddenly, I remembered. I remembered the baby, the bleeding and the wailing of my tiny baby. The cot beside my bed was empty. I looked around me, the ward was empty. The baby was supposed to be in the cot but she wasn’t.

My eyes widened scanning through the room, my heartbeat increased, I didn’t know what to think. I stood up deliberating on what action to take next, then I heard it; the signal of my baby cry. Right under the bed I was, laid my crying baby. My poor baby. I bent down with excruciating pain from the wound of the surgery and picked her up amidst fear and worries. I was scared to death.

Clutching this hours old baby to my chest, I replayed the event silently. I recalled waking up to her crying in the cot beside me. I also remembered picking her up and laying her beside me to feed. Perhaps, I pushed her off the bed cliff in my sleepy tired state. Perhaps?

I couldn’t go back to sleep after that and within those early hours, I made promises. Part of it was to be the best mother I could ever be, to be watchful and for the baby to grow up healthily without a broken bone from the fall. We both had to work hard on this.

Weeping uncontrollably, I buckled up ready for the journey of motherhood. My new baby survived the fall and I learnt my first parenting practical lesson.

And They Multiplied ..

My baby followed me home two days after she was born. The secret remained intact. Our little flat sat on a little hill and it was in this flat I spent the first eight months of my parenting life watching every move of this inquisitive little lady.

In reality, it was a very lonely moment of my life, no manual just instincts, books and medical advise, but we survived. We survived the night feeds, teething and soiled nappies. My sense of smell widened.

Three years after I welcomed my first child, my second one reared her beautiful head. She was a late arriver as her sister; a day short of 42 weeks. She arrived exhausted after ingesting some of the excrement she passed in the amniotic fluid. As a result, this led to another emergency caesarean section.

My second girl was a far cry from the first. She was the direct opposite, never moaned, never cried for attention. She made parenting easy on me.

Two Bundles And A Cherry

With two little babies under the age of three, my mind was occupied, I needed to get things right. Returning to work wasn’t as fun as it used to be. There was always something to do and childcare commitment was a pain. Similarly, home life was challenging as hell but we weathered the storm together with pink and purple and all things beautiful.

Twenty seven months later, my little boy tagged along. He came out cladded with the umbilical cord around his neck. As expected, he was unresponsive due to the strangulation. The operating theatre was silent expect for the clattering of medical utensils and the resuscitating muffling. He arrived through planned Caesarean section.

After what felt like eternity, I heard his tiny voice breaking through, sense of relieved washed over those present and within forty eight hours I took my boy home to meet his sisters. In addition, he added a bit of tumbling energy to the rather girly strutting.

With three children under the age of five, I was once again determined to make it work. My watch word right from the moment I brought my girl home stuck with me. I watched and played. There were routines to follow, bed time stories, natures walk, stories from my childhood and morals to incorporate.

My Ways Of Parenting

I had vowed never to use force or threat as part of my parenting weapon. Growing up, I detested my parents’ parenting methods. The spanking, smacking and corporal punishments didn’t portrayed the special love and sacrifice enclosed within their hearts. I had scars from cane strokes of years ago. Instructions were laid down to follow without thorough explanation, the conversations we had weren’t two ways.

Parenting is a load of sacrifice and I planned it differently. I wanted my children to feel free discussing their failures without any guilt; to be as close to me as possibly could. The freedom to express their feelings without fear. The all important love, respect and morals all in imbedded in them.

With my children, I explain things through, listen and negotiate. I asked of their opinions before making decisions directly affecting them. I put my best foot forward. Saying sorry when in the wrong was part of it and along everything else; there are cuddles, loads of it. Praises and telling offs are also part of the deal.

It’s Exhausting

Of course, parenting is exhausting. There were times when I had to borrow a bit of my parents’ method and there had been loads of screaming and shoutings but my parenting method is far from what I experienced as a kid.

As my children move from single to double digit of age, I found myself reviewing my parenting style. The children are treated more like adults now, we meet often to review what works and what doesn’t. I ignored some faults and crack more jokes.

I have learnt to ignore the sighs and the eye rolling, the little insults muttered underneath the breathe. Consequently, I have also worked out when to talk senses into their silly heads. Sometimes, I am a raging mad woman and other times a sweet soothing mother who’s not deterred by a teenager filled with fluctuating hormones.

My view has changed since becoming a mother. Children are not dummies. They are human being entrusted in our care. The more we treat them with respect the more ready they are to conform to positivity.