Episode 9 - Japa Chronicles

I want to start this with a heartfelt apology to our readers for our absence. The past few weeks have been super eventful and filled with a lot of packing, unpacking, and sorting. I'm sure you can already tell what this episode will be about from the title. Yes, I have good news to share – this new mom blogger and her baby have relocated to the U.K.!

When I say japa, you say what?

In all seriousness, though, it has been a rollercoaster, as I always say. I've felt so many different emotions, from anger to excitement, nervousness, fear, and much more.

In all the stress, I got really close to quitting on the blog, but I made a promise to myself when I started, and I plan to keep it. It's now the 9th month, we've come this far, and I could not be more pleased.

In this episode, I will be sharing how my first and subsequent travels with my little human went. After birth, I developed this crazy anxiety and phobia for cars or bikes and traveling in general. (Please share your experience in the comment section if you ever experienced this as a first-time mom)

Basically, anything that would move me from my house to another destination was a no-no for me. I don't have a car of my own, so I have always booked safe, comfy rides for hospital visits and other errands. It took me a good five months after birthing my child and plenty of prayers while on the move before I could take a bike* with my child strapped to my chest in the carrier.

Our first interstate travel was an emergency, but luckily I had a private car to take me down to my destination. Then December came, and I was supposed to visit my parents for festivities. Unfortunately, I was yet to get over the phobia I had for public bus transportation at the time, and the fare for a private cab was killing, so I couldn't use that. I eventually decided to stay back, and everyone else around me traveled to see their families while I was home alone with my then four months old.

I had to give my parents a different excuse because I didn't want anyone to try to change my mind. I kept postponing till the festivities were over, but I couldn't run from it – I eventually had to visit them. By the end of January, I had tried my hardest to prepare for it again mentally and prayed even harder.

I finally visited my parents, and the journey went fine. My child was so calm, and people on the bus were amazed at how an infant could keep her cool in such an environment. At some point, I paid for two seats, just to be a little more comfortable because Nigerian drivers are always crazy; they drive like it's objects and not humans occupying the bus.

Fast forward to our other travels, my baby became a social butterfly. She made friends with different people we met on the bus, sometimes, I hated it because they're total strangers, and you can't play with everyone, but little miss will always have her way – what a happy baby, right?

Moving on to our first international travel, I had never been in a plane before, and for the first time, I had to fly alone with my nine-month-old – it was one hell of a trip!

I had all my family members with me at the airport, including my in-laws. You would probably think it must've been a smooth check-in for me, but…

Nope!

My crew of assistants wasn't allowed inside the airport with me – not even one. But, thanks to God, the man assigned to push my trolley was very helpful. He did all the weighing, subtractions, re-weighing, and getting the accurate weight for my bags, and of course, I compensated him. I already did a rough measurement before leaving home with my travel scale, and I had just a little difference.

I was allowed to skip all the queues because I had a baby, but if you think that's it, then you're so wrong because the shege* began at the Nigerian immigration section. I had a 7kg box, a 7kg bag for my baby which was hanging on my right shoulder, a fussy baby screaming down the whole airport, and an officer interrogating me, not concerned about how I was managing like, 'Madam write this here, madam sign here, madam this is not clear enough.'

Bruhhhhh, I had to do all this writing on my palm, and this man was acting like he couldn't see my baby crying. Little human, on the other hand, would not stop crying. It was like she'd been suppressing the tears her whole nine months of being a gentle baby and decided to burst out at the worst time possible.

I was so clumsy, tired, and disorganized, but I made sure I was as focused and dependable as possible for the sake of my child. I really needed some help, but I knew none was coming. I finally got past immigration and got to the boarding gate with a huge sigh of relief – "Indeed, after every difficulty comes ease" (Quran 94:5&6).

I boarded the plane, and we hadn't even settled in before little human slept off. She slept through the 10-hour flight. I couldn't even stand up to stretch my body the whole time; I was right there in one spot throughout. But, like they say, you can't eat your cake and have it. So I could either have a sleeping baby or my freedom.

We got to Doha the next morning and got off the plane to catch our next flight. The airport in Doha is so beautiful, but we had limited time, so we had to hurry. I got her changed for the next 10 hours, and off we were. We boarded the next flight and were assigned a baby bassinet, thankfully. She slept almost immediately again, and I placed her in the bassinet; it was such a breath of fresh air.

She awoke shortly afterward and stayed awake for about half of the trip. We kept busy with the stuffed animals given to us by the air hostess till we landed at our final destination. I got a lot of help from the people on both planes, and I'm very thankful for how aware they were that I needed this help. I also jumped at every opportunity I got, not minding if they were strangers because I really needed the help, and there's no award for suffering.

It was such a beautiful experience, but I still wish I had a travel partner, and I wasn't all by myself the whole 20 hours plus a 2-hour layover trying to figure out my next boarding gate. I got home jetlagged, and you would think I'd get to relax, but no, I continued being a MOM.

*Bike or motorcycle is a popular mode of transportation in my home country, Nigeria.

*' Shege' is a Yoruba word for unpredictable and very inconvenient issues.