I almost became a Father.

Six years ago, I almost became a father. True story. By now, you'd be calling me Baba James because I had already named the kid James after a friend of mine (who shall remain nameless to protect the innocent).

As a first-time husband and almost-father, I had no clue what I was doing. So, naturally, I relied heavily on the advice and wisdom of others. One fine day, a friend urgently told me to get my wife to the hospital ASAP and not to worry about the bill. We hopped on a matatu and made our way to the hospital. What started as a normal day quickly turned into an emergency.

My wife, who walked into the hospital, was soon being wheeled around in a wheelchair, and at one point, we had a bloody floor situation. It turned out to be an ectopic pregnancy. Not funny. I hear the pain is equivalent to having your balls squeezed for 30 seconds. Painful!

Later that day, we went into surgery. Unfortunately, the pregnancy had ruptured, and we lost the baby. It was devastating. And last night, I had a dream that reminded me of the baby that could have been. I’m shocked that, six years on, I still find myself mourning.

But here’s the thing: grief doesn’t follow a schedule. It’s okay to feel the loss and to remember. It’s part of being human and part of being a parent, even if it was only for a brief moment. 

So, if you see me staring off into the distance or looking a bit down, just know that I’m remembering James, the child who made me Baba James, even if just for a short while.

By now, James would have been six years old and a few months over. He'd probably be asking me for a new pair of socks, and instead of buying new ones, I’d pass down my pair to him because, you know, I’m a true African dad.

Maybe he would have been tall and slender or a ball of energy. Would he have been like me, his mother, or some random relative we’ve only seen in old photos?

There would be school fees to pay and walks to take as we dropped him off at school or picked him up. I imagine he’d be a noisy lad and a favorite among many.

I know my thoughts are all positive because that’s what we hope for in life. He might have been the opposite. Maybe he would have been sickly. I’m told I was sickly as a kid. Some even thought "kamuti" had been used against me. Maybe he would have given us a run for our money, and instead of fundraising for missions, we’d be fundraising for his medical bills.

I never did think of his second name. Maybe it would have been Swahili, Kamba, or Kalenjin. James Smart would have been a smart choice, but some other parents were smarter ahead of my time. Maybe you’d have visited us to hold the baby and bring gifts – "ile box ya diapers" and the toys he’d never use. 😂

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

One of the tricky parts about expecting a child is how you start planning for them long before you even meet them. These little humans make you hide money, get insurance, start planning their education, and engage in what some call "nesting." In that season, I learned that men plan mentally. I was ready. Some of you were part of the plan, and you were going to be informed when your scene was on.

Diapers; year’s supply, check.

House to move to; check.

House help options; check.

Who to harass; check.

Who to demand a favor from; check.

Bills; check.

Whose house to rob of their baby things; check.

I mean, I was ready. I even prayed the mosquitoes to our neighbor’s house, and they moved. 😂😂😂

You can be sure the youth from church were slated to become babysitters and official photographers, while the teens were on cleaning duty to pay for the food they devoured. Many other plans were rolling.

In the end, the plans were in place, the horse and horsemen were ready, but we never made it to the battlefield.

Six years later, we relieve the days.

Kids are influential. Humans are. I just didn't know they start influencing when they're unborn. So influential that they can drive people into marriage or into bed with another. It's the baby that wants to be born that's driving you. Sometimes it's called baby fever. Sick. 😁 It feels like how Jesus picked his mom before she picked him up, and how the father of John the Baptist was silenced because his opinion wasn't needed, just like Joseph’s. You think you're man enough, only to be pulled, pushed, and turned around by a baby. 

A friend of mine says children are a result of marriage, not the reason, but these little humans can make themselves the reason. Born or unborn, they influence and control things.

James was an influencer. He fought and won the race to the other side. I have a feeling he convinced the other sperms by saying, "I'll go over to the other side, check things out, and when I find all is okay, I'll signal you to 'come'." He lied. He never went back for the rest. He influenced those other potential kids, and now he was influencing the parents.

He started dictating the soap to be used, the food to be cooked, and when the house would be clean or tidy. He was James Smart. He was the friend you'd want to have as a lawyer. I think he would be part of the maandamanos, and I'd be there babysitting and fighting off the police to let him fight for his present and future.

Funny thing is, as I write this, I can only see his trunk and legs, not his face. He's wearing brown trousers and a black sweater. He's holding a bottle of milk. It's clear blue in color, and I'm somewhere on a curb watching and waiting for the influencer to make things happen.

James is in my heart and mind today. His brother would be Andrew, but James influenced many other things, so Andrew or Ann, depending on gender, will have to wait.

Grief has no timeline, but I recently learned through the loss of my dad and comforting others that, on average, it takes around 13 years to speak about a departed loved one with little-to-no pain or emotions. Let me know what you've found out.

I'm in my sixth year of mourning this child and son. It hurts. Being on the frontline of ministry, mainly dealing with children, teens, and youth, it would be more fulfilling to minister to others while ministering to my own. Those who know me well know that I love kids. I love being young around them and helping them figure out how to go and grow through where they are in life.

My journey of ministering with kids kicked off at CCIT, where I first failed in teaching them but did well in being with them. Later on, I handled the teens and youth, which was a learning curve that shaped me very well. Daystar University came second when I was called upon to lead in The Christian Fellowship (DCF). As I said earlier, humans are influencers, and I enjoyed seeing and leading influencers influence both positively and negatively. If you're reading this and you're a Daystar alum who's not yet a believer, we need to talk, BTW. Then came Chania Girls in 2012. It was through Chania Girls that I was first given the title Dad or Father. This is a high title. It made me feel good and honored, but I remembered we only have one Father in the kingdom, so I did not take it up (Matthew 23:9). Breathe Ministry was running across the seasons since I left college. Then came TCR. Here I was anchored for real. I love and loved this season. It's still winding down, but it was fun seeing preteens become teens, later youth, and even parents. Seeing them discover themselves and the world, picking a tangent and riding it all the way, was my reward. Many are yet to be anchored in Hebrews 6:19, but they're headed there at a good speed.

In all this, there was a deep desire to see one of my own. Like Abraham, I wanted to be inherited by my flesh and blood. Are we not all selfish? Or maybe it's just me and Abe? (Genesis 15:2-3)

Maybe James will be birthed one day and be a leader in the Church just like James in Jerusalem. Maybe. In fact, things went south in the month of May in 2018. So maybe May was my month of maybes.

This, however, is not just a sad post but a celebration of healing and the journey thus far. God has brought and enabled my heart and mind to carry and handle this load. There were times I walked alone, other times I involved friends, and best of all, I turned to God.

Losing money hurts. Losing a friend hurts more. Losing a child is harder. To a great extent, your life gets redefined. Your character and behavior change, and your response to things and people shifts. Your strength is tested, and you're found wanting. You realize that in your strongest moments, you're weak (2 Corinthians 12:9).

This loss affected how I led, loved, and lived. To some, I went quiet; to others, I became loud. Unfortunately for men, even in your lowest moments, the world expects you to lead—whether at work, in the community, or at home. If not careful, men are rarely given a chance to mourn. The assumption is that you're a hero and that you'll overcome.

This is a season where friendships are redefined. Friends get confused about whether to invite or inform you about their pregnancies and births. As a leader/minister, you're not sure whether to share your challenges or address theirs. Many friends were shocked and still are upon hearing this. Their common response is, "Mbona hukunishow ile day?" While I'm there thinking, "That was the same season when you lost your job, your marriage was on the rocks, or you were having a crisis of faith or finances." We addressed and prayed over that. It would be unfair of me to hear of your struggle and then tell you of mine as well. I'm sorry if my shift and turn affected our friendship.

Thank God depression didn't hold me down. Thank God I'm still standing despite the many changes and shifts. Thank God I'm still a believer, and I'm never going to curse God. Thank God. In everything, give thanks—not for everything, but in everything (1 Thessalonians 5:18).

James cannot and will not be replaced. If the Lord wills, ... 😎