Did I tell you how my 4.5kg-born son almost took me out of the life game? Well, grab a seat because this story isn’t just a tale of survival—it’s a masterclass in realizing when to surrender for the greater good.
I call it: You Cannot Fit a Square Peg in a Round Hole.
So here I was, already a mother to two girls, and now blessed with a bouncing (and I mean bouncing) baby boy.
Let me tell you, the phrase “square peg in a round hole” has never felt more real to me than during my breastfeeding saga with my 4.5kg heavyweight champion of a son.
Here I was, determined to do exclusive breastfeeding for six months, like I had with my two daughters before him. It worked then, so naturally, I assumed it would work again. I mean, why wouldn’t it? But oh, how wrong I was!
At 4.5kg, the boy was born already auditioning for heavyweight championships. I was determined to give him the same exclusive breastfeeding I had given his sisters. Oh, friends, I tried.
By month three, this young man was already in Pampers Junior—and if you’re yet to experience the joys of parenting, let me enlighten you: Junior is for toddlers who’ve decided walking, running, and bossing people around is their thing. My son? He wasn’t just big; he was a big deal.
The first time I took him to the clinic, the doctor gave me a look that said, “Woman, are you feeding him steak and milkshakes?” I laughed nervously. His weight was causing confusion in the medical community. But before you suggest I “watch his diet,” let me stop you right there: genetics are undefeated. Both my family and my husband’s family are stocky folks. .
Now, back to the battlefield that was breastfeeding. At two months, after one of his marathon feeding sessions, I lovingly put him to sleep, thinking, Finally, some peace. But five minutes later, he woke up crying. Not sniffles, friends, but the type of crying that suggests he’s been fasting for 40 days and 40 nights. I was baffled. How much can one tiny giant eat?
So, I breastfed him again. But this time, when I tried to stand up, I collapsed back onto the bed. Dizziness hit me like a poorly-placed punch. I was drained—literally. My boy hadn’t just emptied my milk supply; I’m convinced he tapped into reserves I didn’t know I had. Water? Gone. Blood? Probably. My will to live? Questionable.
And it wasn’t for lack of trying. Oh, I tried everything to boost my milk. Healthy eating? Check. Hydration? Check. Bitter cassava leaves? Double check. I even subjected myself to the abomination that is oloifera moringa powder. Dill seeds, porridge, seeds with names I couldn’t pronounce—if someone swore it worked, I was game. But my son’s appetite was unmatched.
Then, on that day, lying dizzy on the bed, I called Patrick, my husband, and told him, “Bring home the Nan milk.” It wasn’t a defeat—it was a strategic retreat. I realized that if I kept pushing for this exclusive breastfeeding dream, I might not make it to six months. The boy would thrive, yes—but I’d be a distant memory.
Looking back, that moment taught me a valuable lesson: sometimes, no matter how determined you are, not everything is going to fit perfectly. Life isn’t about forcing what doesn’t work; it’s about adapting and finding the solutions God has already provided.
And you know what? That Nan milk saved both of us. My son thrived, and I regained my sanity. Turns out, letting go of the square peg isn’t defeat—it’s wisdom. It’s recognising when to stop pushing and start trusting that there’s a better way.
This isn’t a post about breastfeeding, though. If you can go exclusive for six months, kudos to you and I encourage it. But this is about knowing when to pivot in your purpose and assignments.
Sometimes, the path God sets before you requires adjustments. There are decisions you don’t need to broadcast to the world. Seek advice from those who know your struggle intimately, those who’ve walked through the fire with you. Then make the call, own it, and move forward.
Because here’s the thing: walking in purpose isn’t about pleasing the crowd; it’s about following God’s guidance—and sometimes, that means picking up a tin of Nan milk and keeping it moving.
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Here are four life lessons:
1. Know When to Pivot
Sometimes, clinging to a rigid plan can do more harm than good. Just as you realized that sticking to exclusive breastfeeding was no longer sustainable, life often requires us to adapt. Flexibility is not failure; it’s wisdom. Purpose is not about perfection—it’s about progress in the right direction.
2. Prioritize Self-Care
You can’t pour from an empty cup—or in this case, produce milk from a depleted body! Taking care of yourself is not selfish; it’s necessary. Whether in parenting, work, or ministry, prioritizing your health ensures you can keep serving those who rely on you. Burnout doesn’t glorify God; wisdom does.
3. Listen to Trusted Voices
Not every opinion needs to shape your decisions. When faced with tough choices, lean on those who truly understand your journey. Be open to advice, but filter it through the lens of God’s purpose and the wisdom of people who genuinely have your back.
4. Purpose Requires Adjustments
Walking in purpose isn’t about sticking stubbornly to a plan—it’s about obedience and discernment. When circumstances change, don’t be afraid to adjust course. Just as you brought in Nan milk when exclusive breastfeeding became impossible, sometimes we need to embrace new strategies to fulfill our God-given assignments.
One thing I’ve picked up in my four decades of life (besides a few grey hairs) is that women are naturals when it comes to confessing, asking for, and accepting help. It’s like an Olympic sport we’ve perfected. Our brothers, bless their hearts, are still warming up in the confession relay race.
So, what book is in my hand today? CONFESSION by Lazarus Gatimu.
Now, if you’ve ever wrestled with inner battles, struggled to admit you need help, or felt like your unresolved issues are turning you into a walking pressure cooker, this book is for you. It’s basically therapy in paperback.
Lazarus dives into the power of vulnerability—kind of like when I had to admit my 4.5kg newborn had drained me of all energy, milk, and possibly my will to live. Asking my husband to bring Nan milk felt like a confession to the world that I couldn’t do it all. But guess what? Confession isn’t defeat; it’s a strategy for survival!
Here are some profound lessons from the book:
- Disclosure is key: Hiding your struggles won’t make them disappear, just like pretending my son wasn’t starving didn’t fill him up. Confessing your limits is where healing starts.
- Sharing invites healing: The moment I confessed to Patrick that I was one feeding session away from passing out, help arrived. Whether it’s formula or forgiveness, sharing opens the door to relief.
- Vulnerability builds relationships: Turns out, letting people in doesn’t make you weak; it makes you relatable. And hey, it gives them a chance to show up for you.
- Joy comes from letting go: When I stopped trying to be Super Mum and embraced Nan milk, my stress level dropped, and joy peeked around the corner.
Lazarus Gatimu’s book is a witty yet deeply insightful guide to tackling the battles inside us. Much like I had to admit defeat in my exclusive breastfeeding mission, Confession reminds us that God doesn’t need us to be perfect—just honest.
So, if you’re carrying guilt, shame, or just plain stubbornness, grab this book. Let it show you how to stop pretending you’ve got it all together, because newsflash: none of us do. And that’s okay. God fights for us, even when we’re wobbling on empty and clutching a tin of formula
Meet the Author
Lazarus Gatimu is an itinerant preacher and theologian with a passion for helping others navigate their inner battles through faith and self-reflection. Born and raised in Eldoret, Kenya, he now resides in Ede, Netherlands, with his family.
His journey into self-publishing sparked a deeper calling to empower others, leading him to a distinguished academic path. He holds a Master of Theology from Theological University Kampen, a postgraduate diploma from Vrije University Amsterdam, and both a Bachelor of Divinity and a Diploma in Theology from St. Paul’s University, Limuru.
Currently, he serves as the Regional Coordinator for Kenya and Ethiopia at the NET Foundation in the Netherlands, where he is committed to equipping Christian leaders and fostering theological growth across the region.
To find more about Lazarus, and his inspiring work, please visit https://africanauthors.net/lazarus-gatimu
With Christian Literature Communications – CLC Kenya
With Christian Literature Communications – CLC Kenya
African Christian Authors Book Award – ACABA
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