Biblical-historical timeline

creation big bang

Ever wondered where our history lies in the Biblical context? I attempted to compile my own biblical cum historical timeline because deep inside I am a child of faith and science and one who wishes science and religion shouldn’t be in such a collision. Si they can help each other through history? Like this week I saw a scientific article that said sharks are older than tree, for example. Someone else was wondering how we can be receiving evidence from billions of light years away when the universe is only 14 billion years old.

What do you think? Can I have my cake and eat it?

Did pre-adamic creatures exist that used tools?

When was the world created?

Did Noah know Abraham?

14 billion years ago? Universe?

4.6 billion years ago? Big bang? Solar nebular?

6000 BC tools, stone age, homo erectus
5529BC creation?
4500BC copper age
5000-3500BC sumerians
4000-3000BC bronze age

4004/4027BC Adam, garden of Eden
4000 BC first neolithic settlers in Malta
3500BC mesopotamic writing
3382-3017 BC Enoch
3317-2348 BC Methuselah
3300 BC bronze age in Indus valley
3227-3102 BC Krishna?
2898-1948 BC Noah
2800 BC Gilgamesh historical leader
2348 BC flood
2100 BC tower of Babel
City of ur
2085 BC Abraham
2038BC Eber
1800 BC Mayas
1792BC King Hammurabi
1650BC Joseph
1500BC Incas
1447BC The Exodus
1300BC Moses
563BC Budha
551BC Confuscius
540BC Jainism
6BC Christ
50 CE agnotism
70 CE New Testament
570CE – 632 Muhammad
590 AD Roman Catholicism
610 AD Islam
1845 AD Seventh Day Adventist
Unity School of Christianity
1928 AD Opus dei


And the kids run the shopping list


Today I laughed out aloud after I saw a discussion on Twitter about how it is us parents who make the buying decisions in our homes, not our kids. You wish! I thought. The discussion was on the recent ads and packaging by Brookside for their Dairy Fresh Yoghurt that features Disney characters and someone was saying the toon targets kids yet it’s the adults buying. ”is-a-lie” and we all parents know who makes the purchasing decisions, at least when it comes to our kids.

On Saturday I was looking for trousers for my five-year-old son but ended up buying  a jumper that had Chase the dog because I knew the kids would love it. My son would rather carry his torn to tatters Lightning McQueen bag to school than a new bag we bought him that has no cartoon character. Woe unto me if I bring home a birthday cake that is not cartoon-themed. You will see the disappointment. Then you understand that it is not just about cake. May be I should be more worried that Disney has brainwashed my kids!

My youngest hates yoghurt. But since Sofia showed up on the pack, she actually carried the yoghurt outside to show her friends, “I have Sofia Yoghurt,” she screamed at the top of her voice. “And Frozen, and Moana.” She didn’t care the flavour. Just Sofia was on it.

I have sworn never to buy Jawbreakers and Skittles because I think they are a waste of money but I would be a cruel mom to ignore two months of pleas, “Mum please bring me a jawbreaker. I wont bite it with my teeth. You can even buy me on Sunday after church,” the negotiations go.

You still want to brag that it is you who does the purchasing, not your kids?


Side Note:

I have finally managed to convince the kids not to watch Vampirina the new cartoon on Disney Junior. Even before I watched it, I hated that the story was about a vampire, regardless of how nice she was and the many lessons she taught on tolerance. No, someone was not about to make my kids think that vampires, ghosts, and coffins are cool. But the tots loved the sound track and story. After battling within my conscience, and someone mentioning how Vampirina sleeps in a coffin and drinks blood, I decided that was it. I sat them down and told them no, Vampirina is not a good cartoon. It has scary things and we are not going to watch it. And Yesterday when the cartoon came on, I asked them to change and they did and affirmed, Vampirina is  bad cartoon.

I hope in my absence they will still do the same. At least in the past we have been successful in banning Aerial the Little Mermaid because it gave me the hibbie jibbies. I love Moana’s music but my son saw it at a neighbour’s house and walked out midway to tell me that “they are watching a bad cartoon” because of the fire monster scene.

Names should be important

name cloud

My five-year-old son has this habit of catching songs fast. The first time I heard him sing along to Jeremy Camp’s “Defender” I was shocked because I didn’t know the song myself, and it’s not one of those easy sing-along songs. He had caught the tune on radio and it had stuck. This week I heard him massacring another Chris Tomlin song and mildly corrected his lyrics but was still amazed because it is not one of those that are endlessly looped on my play list.

My sister recently recorded him singing the entire ”You’re my Defender” song then told me, “May be you should pay for him music classes.”

We laughed about it then. Today I was reading a book I have had for the last three years, a gift from my dear friend Mary Ngigi. Marla Alupoaicei in “Prayer Warrior Mom”writes: “An excellent way to bless your children through prayer is by finding scriptures that pertain to their names, personality traits, gifts and character qualities (both the qualities they already have and those you’d like them to develop). Names are important to God, so they should be important to us. Find out the meaning of your children’s names and then use those insights when you pray for your kids.”

I paused to smile because my son’s second name means praise. May he live to declare the praises of He who called Him and may his lips openly profess the name of Yahweh.

Are your children living up to their names? Pray them into the destiny and character qualities you named them into.

Honouring parents

farmer mama

When I was getting married I had this grand vision of myself walking down the aisle, looking all majestic and glorious, all eyes on me, may be singing to my husband-to-be who would be wonder-struck and shedding tears of joy at the altar. My pastor was keen to know why I wanted to walk myself down the aisle.

“No reason,” I told him. Ït’s just what I wanted.

But he told me of what an honour it would be for my parents to walk me and hand me over to the man I was going to marry. I agreed to do it if doing otherwise would have dishonoured my parents.

In retrospect, I’m glad I did. My parents have never been prouder, and I was shaking so badly along that long walk, I would have tripped myself if I had no one to hold me.

A few days ago I came across a verse in Matthew 15 where Jesus rebukes the Pharisees who refuse to help their parents because they had already made a vow to God. It’s one of those verses that I must have read numerous times before but never really noticed till now. From the verse, it seems that Jesus would rather you first help your parents when they ask for help rather than meet an obligation you had made to church. Correct me if I am wrong.

For instance, God says, ‘Honor your father and mother,’[a] and ‘Anyone who speaks disrespectfully of father or mother must be put to death.’[b] But you say it is all right for people to say to their parents, ‘Sorry, I can’t help you. For I have vowed to give to God what I would have given to you.’ In this way, you say they don’t need to honor their parents.[c] And so you cancel the word of God for the sake of your own tradition.

It’s easy to ignore our parents once we are out of their houses, and especially if we feel they made our growing up years hard. Finally we can’t wait to break free and be ourselves.

But we have a Christian duty to honour our parents and to take care of them. According to 1 Timothy 5:4-8 providing for our parents is a gospel issue, whether they deserve it or not. It’s pleasing to God.

Here are other ways we can honour our old folks apart from letting them give us in marriage.

  1. Forgive them. I don’t think any of us has perfect parents. They failed us numerous times when we were growing up and we carry grudges and hurts that affect our relationships with them, with our own children and our spouses. But once I realised that my parents are sinners in need of grace as I am, once I removed them from the exalted pedestal and saw them as people who are also messed up and dealing with their issues, not seeking to hurt me purposefully, I was able to forgive them for all real or imagined wrongs. They were not perfect, they will never be perfect, but God is good.
  2. Pray for them. They have needs, dreams, challenges… pray for them. for their health, for their jobs or businesses or enterprises, for their friends, for the burdens they carry, for the house they are building, and for their redemption.
  3. Acknowledge them. Letting my parents walk me down the aisle acknowledged who they are in my life. Mention the dad who has always denied himself to make sure you have during your graduation speech. Praise the mother who has been on her knees on your behalf since you were in nappies at her retirement party. Introduce them to your friends with pride. Keep them in the loop on what’s cutting in your life- did you get a new job, moved houses? Seek their counsel or thoughts  on issues.
  4. Bless them physically. I belong to a Facebook group of aspiring and already-there home owners and I am so proud of the many posts I see of people who are building houses for their folks even before they build their own. It’s beautiful. Find ways to bless your parents physically. Buy them something they need or wish for, especially if it can make their life easier. Update their phone software and teach them how to use that Facebook.Remember that joke about men who buy random girls iPhones yet their mothers are using a rubber band-bound Mulika Mwizi whose key pad is so worn out calling people is a fit?
  5. Help them in their time of need. My folks are still young but I realise that as we get into our 40s and 50s, the reality of ageing parents kicks in. What do you do if your other siblings are unbothered by the arising needs? You will still take care of their hospital bills and when that time comes, let them stay in your house if they need to knowing that you are honouring them and God is pleased.

How else can we honour our parents as grownups?


“We should never allow the cares of the world to overshadow the things that are most important—serving God through serving people, especially the people in our own families.”-

Taking stock of relationships


In the past month my church small group has been studying stewardship. During one of the lessons, it was highlighted that we are stewards of the relationships God has put our way. It was a time to pause and take stock of the people I was connected to.

I realised that I quickly identified as a wife to one Muse and mother to two lovelies, sister, daughter, christian church goer, neighbour, small group leader, friend… I even introduced myself thus. These relationships demanded a certain level of input from me. I had to be the good neighbour who doesn’t throw noisy parties at 3am or pour trash on the stairs because I was mindful of my neighbours. I had friends who needed me and who I needed to be there for. I had prayergroup mates to pray and be accountable to.

In these relationships I was trying to stand before God and say I have worked what was given me as a mother, wife, writer, Kenyan woman, believer and I have fought  a good fight, finished the race and kept the faith.

But there were relationships I was ignoring or not taking too seriously yet God was expecting me to be a faithful steward in these as well. I was someone’s grandchild. Was I holding my weight to my cucus? I was a cousin, aunt, niece, mentor, villagemate… was I being a good steward? Would my nieces be proud of the aunt I had been to them or I was just a name in their lineage? Would my village remember a daughter like me in their time of celebration or need? Was I holding my weight as a mulamwa to someone?

Christmas will be a time when you are reminded just how many people you are connected to. You can choose to see them as a burden, obother or non-of-your-business but God will demand an account of what you did with your life in relationship to these people. Realise the privilege it is to have those people living across the hall from you, or related to you or attending the same church as you and ask God why he has placed them in your life. Recently there was a story of a woman stranded in Dubai and the first question people asked is “kwani she doesn’t have a family, friends?”

Chance encounters for me have turned to be blessings, people brought into my life for a purpose, people I need to get my job done some day in the future in a way I could never have anticipated. And those chance encounters have probably opened doors for some people as well. Recently I needed to get an article form a medical doctor. Then I remembered a family we had carpooled with for one church trip and the lady is, yes, a medical doctor. And she was willing to write.

On the same note, it’s time we dealt with this lie from hell that we do not need some people in our lives because they come from a certain community, or we don’t need certain communities in “our” country. We are connected, and we don’t always choose who to get connected to. In fact we can only choose our friends and spouses, to some extent. All those other relationships – your classmates, colleagues, cousins, brothers, parents, in-laws, neighbors, parents at same school- are providence. Appreciate them. Build them.

I am taking stock of more relationships in my life and trusting God to give me the love, patience, time and wisdom to be a faithful steward.

Milestones, and we hang the breastfeeding boots at 31 months


Last week my 2.7 year old girl finally learnt to peddle her tricycle on her own. And we finally took the training wheels off the 5-year old’s bike. Am I feeling proud of the achievements of these little ones or what! Oh, and slowly but surely Lil Missy is kissing booby bye. Its been 36n hours since her last feed. Happy dance!

Teaching a toddler to peddle was one of the hardest things I’ve done recently. I explained everything right but she still needed someone to push her around and that can be tiring. Then one day she just did it. And you should have seen the triumphant look on her face.

But the hardest thing was stopping her from breastfeeding. I new I wanted my children to breastfeed at least to two years. So after two years, everyone kept looking at us wondering when we were going to stop this thing.

This was someone who cold negotiate and haggle for nyonyo. “Mum nipee tidogo tu (Just a little mum),”she would say. “”Give me one nyonyo,” she would persist. And sometimes I gave her one and she would happily jump off my lap. But most times one is not enough. So after exhausting the right one, she would then ask for the other one, then tell me “Ïmeisha,”as she pulls down my top. Yes, we were long overdue this breastfeeding thing.

But my girl wasn’t quite ready to say bye to boobie and neither was I. After breastfeeding everyday for 31 months, it can become a thing, our thing. I wasn’t quite ready to stop.

Then over the past month i just felt fed up and tired. I no longer wanted to breastfeed her. Her cry for nyonyo made me want to run and hide.Then I knew it was time to stop. So I went to the tried and tested method of chillie on boobie. I generously appplied chilli sauce on my nipples and called her for a feed. !5 or so seconds later she stopped, looked at me confused and said, “kali.” Then left to go watch cartoons.

We would fall off the wagon over the next few days, mostly because I just felt like breastfeeding her, but whenever I got tired, I picked up my chilli and showed it to her and told her “Nyonyo ni kali.”

Yesterday I got home and I was carrying her, she eyed my boobs like a teenager eyeing a young lass, then laughed out saying, “Nyonyo ni kali”.

So, yes, chilli works i stopping breastfeeding.


Martha, the mother with a heart for every child in need



Cheerful faces.

I tend to obsess about purpose. I passionately believe that every person was born wired and endowed to accomplish some things only they can the way they can, and that we are never truly fulfilled until we know we are doing what we were created to do. Idealistic, I know. Don’t blame me. I am an idealist in my DNA. I’m the kind that wonders what my epitaph will say when I am gone… the kind that writes bucket lists.

Do we all have a mission? Yes, I used that word. Last week at my place of work a HOD shared a TED Talk about DNAs and shells. Shells are what we do. You are a doctor, a teacher, a missionary, a mother, an accounts executive. That is what you do. Not who you are. Your DNA might be to teach people new things, or two care for the sick and hurting. Or to connect people. Or to create new things. Or create order or beauty in chaos. Then you have to find ways of doing these things, despite the shell that is you career because that is why you walk this planet. If you were made to bring awe to people, you will not be fulfilled unless you are inspiring awe wherever. Sometimes your DNA perfectly aligns with the shell. Other times your shells hinders you from being who you are meant to be. Other times several shells can carry and house your core you.

The TED speaker gave the example of a man who wanted to be a magician while growing up, then trained as an architect, then found himself with a hobby of trekking in the woods, had a first job as a graphics designer and had a dream of starting a company that takes people on outdoor adventures. The underlying factor is that he lived to inspire a sense of awe and wonder in people.

That is why when I met with Cucu Martha at her home in Kabiria-Satellite over the weekend, I was struck by the beauty of a life that knows why it was put on this planet. Martha Njeri is a mother, heart, body and soul – to many children, most not biologically hers, most that she meets in the most painful of circumstances, but all that she would not think a second about bringing them to her home, limitations or no limitations.

With her cheerful smile and glowing face and boundless energy, Martha sort of runs a children’s home. Sort of because she says it’s not a children’s home; it’s a home. She want to see her kids clean and fed and happy and loved and travelling abroad for their college degrees and getting married- just like any mother. And she wouldn’t give any of the 43 of them up, not even for adoption.

“This is their home. What I would want is help to make them achieve their dreams but we are not like other children’s homes. These children already have a home,” she says, pointing to Kevin who has lived with her since he was five years old. He is now 17.

And that is what most of those children desperately need. Some were picked from their houses by the police after  being left for days without food or care. She has in her care a brother and sister were left in their house for four days while aged 6 months and 18 months. Others were left at her gate by mothers who had reached the end. Others were born on the streets without even the help of a midwife, to drunken mothers who rolled over for their bottle of some illegal beverage seconds after labour.

Martha remembers arriving to cut the umbilical cord of one such child who was born on a pavement somewhere in Kawangware. She wrapped the baby in nylon bags and rushed him to Kenyatta National Hospital for treatment since he had been exposed to the cold for too long. She was admitted to hospital with the newborn and while there, met a mother who had a mental disability and had an infant with celebral palsy. While she was leaving the hospital, Martha asked the hospital to waive the bill of the other mother and to release her and her baby to her care. The boy still lives with Martha 11 years later.

Her home is simple and small; it’s hard to imagine how they all fit or even how they squeeze in the sitting room to watch the tiny TV perched on a table. What is lacking in space is made up for by the love and joy that fills the compound. Martha’s love is more than enough to go around for her children and her guests and any other child out there in need of a home. In fact Martha says that as we talk, if she heard of a  baby or child in trouble, she would rush to get him or her without worrying that she has 43 other mouths to feed.


Martha feeds a 6-month old boy in her care.

Martha says she never went to school and in fact had a very difficult childhood. Born number two in a family of 13 where her father was a drunkard, they lived hand to mouth.

“I never ate till I was full growing up. I don’t remember ever sleeping comfortably at home,” she says.

She took her first job as a house help at age 9 and did this till she was 17 years old when she got pregnant. But life in her mother’s house hadn’t changed and being a new mother, she took up the first opportunity at marriage she got. A friend mentioned to her that a certain “kimundu” [man] in her village was looking for a wife, so she packed her bags and carried her three-week-old baby for the man’s home where she she was duly installed as a wife to man she had never met before and who had a mental disability.

Four years later and with three more children who all happened to have various physical and mental disabilities, Martha found herself back at her mother’s house after his family chased her away. This time she decided to live the children with her mother to go work in Kawangware as a house help. But she says when she went to visit her mother a few months later, she found her children malnourished and suffering from kwashiakor; without a second thought, she took them with her to Kawangware where they all begun life in  a one-roomed mud house. They slept on a a mattress she made from grass and survived on begging or food foraged from dumps in Marikiti.

The interesting thing is that despite her lack, Martha found herself feeding other children in the neighbourhood who were worse of than her, and offering a home to others even while she hardly had enough for herself.

“I would see a dirty child and call her to my house and wash her and giver her some clean clothes. I would see those street women with hungry babies and tell them, ‘kuja twende kwangu nikupee tunguo twa mtoto,'” says the 57-year-old who likes to call herself Cucu.

And the neighbours  [and schools] would wonder what was wrong with this woman, bringing in ‘strays’ while she was no better than them. She says she has begged teachers to take in strangers’ children while promising to get them school uniform when their parents were unbothered.

“I didn’t want any child to grow up the way I did. I am particularly drawn to children from alcoholic families,” she says.


I go gooh gah gah over this two week old twin-let.

Martha currently has one helper but her daughter comes in once in a while to assist at the home they call Shiphrah Centre, although on Facebook they go by Martha’s Little Angels Kawangware. We ask how she survives with 43 kids, some as young as two weeks old. The oldest is aged 19. She says she lives like the Israelites in the wilderness, trusting for each day’s provision.

On this day they have generously shared with us tea and chapatis. We joke that we will be visiting on Saturdays to eat more chapos.

“Actually, that’s all we had in the store so we decided it’s what we will eat today,” she says. Why does it sound like that  widow of Zarephath in the Bible who made prophet Elijah bread from all the flour and oil she had? May that jar of flour not be used up and the jug of oil not run dry until the day the Lord sends rain on this humble home.



You’ve got to love this cheerful bunch.


Classes needed here!

Bible study

Today I read Titus 2:3-5 and burst out in laughter. Classes needed here.

Titus was saying that older women need to be:

  • Reverent
  • Not given to slander
  • Not addicted to much wine
  • Teaching what is good

In turn these older women were to train young women to:

  • Love their husbands
  • Love their children
  • Be self controlled
  • Be pure
  • Be busy at home
  • Be kind
  • Be subject to their husbands.

Why? So that no one will malign the word of God.

Who else like me feels like they need classes in the above?

Clearly you can be taught how to love your husband. And who ever thought you’d need knowhow on loving children? And being self controlled, kind, pure, busy at home, submitting?

And we are to learn these from older women who disciplined and spirit-controlled, who have mastered their tongue and have themselves learnt to be reverent. describes these as older women who are living “like holy priests serving in the presence of God. Their sacred personal devotion to the Lord has slowly come to influence every aspect of their lives.”

I long for such an older woman from whom I can get encouragement and perspective. Loving my husband is hard. Submitting to him can be a mountain I don’t care to climb. Loving my children is hard. Staying pure is hard. Don’t even go to the part about being busy at home. Or being kind. Or not blowing up at everything. Have you had episodes in your life that needed motherly advice and not from your mother? That’s what I am talking about.

The scary part is that I am an older woman to some fresh-eyed bride. Do I fit the cut of a teacher? Do I have anything worth sharing? Can I open up my life to share on what I have learnt so far on loving my husband and children and reining my emotions?

What season are you in?

Life beginning on wasteland

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing.”

Ecclesiastes 3:1–5 (NIV)

This verse popped twice in my study time today. Then I came across this study on Christianity Today and it reminded me of a seminar I attended by the Mukolwe’s who pinpointed that Jesus healed many sick people in his day; but he did not heal every sick person; or raise ever dead person; or preach every possible sermon; yet nearing his death, he said that he has finished the work and glorified the Father. What work has been set out for me today, this year, this season of my life? I’m being called to be faithful and obedient.

Here’s the study:

By Jocelyn Greene

The common refrain among time-starved, noise-saturated, overworked Americans [Kenyans] is, “How can I achieve balance?”

We’ve been asking the wrong question. Nowhere in the Bible does God tell us to pursue balance. Your purpose in life is far bigger than that. Jesus said that being his disciple requires us to deny ourselves, to lose our own lives so we can find life in him (Matt. 16:24–25). As we follow Jesus, with our crosses on our backs, we aren’t balanced—we’re leaning, hard, toward our Saviour, whatever that may look like in our current season of life.

If we define balance as a state of equal attention given to equal priorities—a static, even-keeled division of time — Jesus himself was not balanced. Sometimes he feasted, sometimes he fasted. He preached to the multitudes, but also escaped from the crowds to pray alone. And yet soon before he was arrested and crucified, Jesus said to the Father, “I have brought glory to you on earth by finishing the work you gave me to do” (John 17:4). No, Jesus was not “balanced”—but he was passionate and complete, because he did the work the Father gave him to do.

Balance is not our goal. We are free to lean in whatever direction God is calling us. Whether it’s a time to build or tear down, to run or rest, to raise small children or start a company, we have the freedom to order our days accordingly and without guilt. In reliance upon God, we each can lean into the current season of our lives, understanding that other seasons will follow.

Is baby sick or just teething?



Have you ever met two doctors whose different schools of thought leave you more confused as a patient?
About a year ago, Little Missy, then about 14 months old, woke up in the middle of the night throwing up and with some crazy fever. My children chewed our two thermometers so nowadays I can only classify fever as mild, high and crazy. Crazy must be in the ranges of 38.5 and above in my head.

Anyway, since the elder boy had also been throwing up and running a fever for a day or so, I decided to take the two to hospital the next day. The older boy had a nasty throat infection and was put on antibiotics. For the girl, apart from fever, the doc couldn’t pinpoint anything in particular, but because she had similar symptoms as the brother, she too was put on antibiotics.The boy improved promptly. But the girl, after 24 hours on antibiotics seemed to be getting worse. Her fever was not abating; in fact I was alternating Brufen and paracetamol every two hours with just a little improvement and I started worrying I would overdose the baby. She was weak, screaming in pain every hour or so, was  diarrhoeaing and throwing up . I started wondering if she was adversely reacting to the medicine. So on day four of sickness and day three of medication we went back to the same hospital but found a different doctor, who decided to change the antibiotics.

More than 24 hours later on new medication, Little Missy wasn’t getting out of the woods. She still was running a burning fever and we were alternating painkillers every three hours, she was having tremors and was so weak her legs couldn’t bear her weight. Every 1 hour or so she would scream in pain touching her legs. I started wondering whether we were treating the wrong thing when may be the problem was in her legs.

I remember holding her all day long on Sunday as she drifted between awake and asleep and thinking “I so do not feel confident in continuing with this treatment at home another day.”  Being a Sunday, I called our paediatrician and explained what had been going on and asked for advise- whether to continue waiting or to take the child back to hospital. He told us to take the child to hospital.

Hubs had mentioned our week of no sleep to a colleague, who booked us an appointment with a doctor friend of hers. “He’s so good with babies and he does not prescribe medication unless he thinks it’s necessary,” she said.

On Monday we went to see the new paeditrician who observed my daughter as she breastfed and cried, switching arms from mine to the dad’s.

“So I am the third doctor you are seeing in a week?” he asked.
“Yes,” I answered.
“Your daughter is not sick, ” was the shocker.
I thought I heard him wrong. What did he mean our daughter is not sick? This girl in my hands who was shaking like a leaf, who hadn’t eaten anything in a week save for breast milk, and who was falling if she tried to even stand despite having taken her first steps months before?
The doctor said our daughter was teething and that the mistake we had done was to take her to hospital too early.

“She should never have been on those antibiotics,” he said.

He explained how baby teeth come out in mini phases hence the periods of intense pain, especially at night, explaining the screaming. He gave us a mini-lecture on how “us people” with insurance are quick to run to hospital instead of observing baby for a while.

“He asked me if I would have done all those trips if I was paying cash. I didn’t answer him but I thought that he must have been crazy if he thought I would have stayed with that baby in the house. It was that place of stress and worry and sleeplessness where staying with a sick baby in the house was not an option, cash or no cash.

Anyway, I liked this doctor because he inspired confidence in us. The heavy weight of worrying was lifted and we knew we were not missing something. He did not prescribe any medication or test, just told us to go home and continue with the antibiotics and to manage the fever.

Two days later, Little Missie started eating and the fever could now be managed on a six hour basis. A week later she was slowly walking. Yes, she had had new teeth coming out, but our regular paed still insists that teething should never make a baby sick or cause high fever. The verdict I suppose is still out there.