Written by Moses Wahome
Editor: Sophie Bochaberi
When I first heard the term “Kangaroo Mother Care,” I instinctively assumed it had nothing to do with me. The phrase “mother care” sounded sacred and exclusive, something only women could do. As a man, I thought my role was to support from the sidelines, watching and waiting while my wife did the nurturing. I never imagined my chest could become a place of healing, warmth, and life for our small newborn, Zoe. It took time—and a gentle push from a nurse—for me to realize that this care wasn’t just for mothers. It was about love, presence, and the power of human connection. I discovered that fathers have just as much to give. This is my story.
My wife’s pregnancy was always a joyous occasion for our family. We were expecting a new addition to our family: another daughter. We anticipated that this pregnancy would be as smooth as the first one. So, I was unprepared when our second daughter was born prematurely at only six months, following labor pains that led the doctor to recommend delivering the baby at that point.
Having a baby prematurely is a profoundly emotional experience, filled with uncertainty about whether the baby will survive. The doctor reassured us, explaining that many babies in these situations have a good chance of survival, though they often arrive with low birth weight. When my baby was born at night, I didn’t get to the hospital until early the next morning, around 6:00 AM, and by then, she was already in the nursery.
I had never seen a preterm baby before. As I walked into that room, nothing could have prepared me for the sight that met my eyes. It was overwhelming. I glanced at my tiny baby, my Zoe, and felt a rush of disbelief; she looked so fragile, and I struggled to comprehend that Zoe was alive. It was a moment filled with fear and hope, and my heart ached just thinking about her journey ahead.
Zoe, Moses’ daughter, at birth.
An elderly nurse who saw the disbelief on my face jolted me back to reality. She said, “We have encountered many preterm babies here, and they have the potential to grow strong. All you need to do is adopt a loving mindset. Go back to the nursery, look at the baby, and start showing them love. That’s the key to helping the baby thrive. If you find yourself filled with questions about why the baby looks the way they do, it will only hinder their progress. However, if you maintain a positive mindset and begin to love the baby from that moment, you will see changes for the better.”
Fortunately, my wife hadn’t seen my face. After taking a few minutes to compose myself, I went to the ward to fetch her so we could visit the nursery together. I was holding back tears filled with hope, and I started speaking positively, even saying that she was a big baby. Have you ever seen a preterm baby before? She asked. As I know, I haven’t seen a preterm baby, but when I look at this baby, it’s not what I expected. This looks like a baby. She was a real baby at only 900 g, the weight of a packet of cooking flour.
From Doubt to Devotion
After three weeks, while she was 1.1kg, a nurses’ strike forced us to transfer her to a different hospital. It turned out to be a blessing in disguise because it was there that KMC was first introduced to us. I had never heard of KMC or seen anyone try it, so when the nurses introduced it to us, I figured it was strictly a mother’s role. After all, it was called ‘mother’ care. The nurses gently urged me that skin-to-skin care was not just for moms. Dads could share in this bond, and they explained how warmth helps the tiny babies thrive.
Putting a newborn against one’s bare chest felt foreign to me, especially in our community where I had never known a man to do it. I resisted twice, even avoiding the hospital for three days rather than face those instructions. But when I realized it could save my daughter’s life, I summoned the courage to go and ask to try it myself.
Zoe, one month old, undergoing KMC
The nurse unbuttoned my shirt and tucked Zoe against me, wrapping us both snugly in a cloth. I was self-conscious, so I slipped on my jacket to hide the moment from curious eyes, but the instant her fragile weight pressed against me, everything changed. Her tiny hands and feet tickled as she shifted, and though it felt awkward at first, I held on for two hours.
Zoe, now, at ten years old.
That evening, I chose my daughter’s well-being over my own biases and self-consciousness. I returned each night for at least an hour of KMC. With every heartbeat shared, our bond increased, and so did her weight. When Zoe finally left the hospital at 1.7 kgs, we carried our KMC routine home. Zoe is now ten years old, and she dreams of becoming a doctor so she can care for other premature babies—just like she once. I like to call it KFC. Kangaroo Father Care or even Family Care because it is not just a mother’s role, it is a shared journey of love, connection, and strength that fathers and family members can share in. To any dad feeling unsure or afraid, I urge you to take that first step. Walk into the nursery, hold your child close, and take part in their recovery and growth. Zoe is living proof that those early moments of skin-to-skin care can save lives. we still find warmth and comfort in the simple embrace that began it all.
Images on this blog post are credited to Moses Wahome, a Kenyan photographer.
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