It was 2:14 a.m. when Nadège felt a small hand shaking her shoulder. Divine, three years old and normally a champion sleeper, was standing by her bed with his pyjama bottoms half off, tears streaking his cheeks, whispering that his "bottom was burning."
The generator hummed outside because the power had gone out again, and in the half-dark, Nadège assumed it was a bad dream or maybe a rash from the heat.
She carried him to the bathroom, checked with the light of her phone, and saw just redness from scratching. She calmed him, rubbed his back, and told him it would be fine by morning.
It wasn't.
The next three nights followed the same pattern.
Divine would wake between midnight and 3 a.m., restless, scratching, sometimes crying so hard that his father, Steeve, would pace the corridor with him just to settle him back to sleep. By the fourth morning, Nadège was exhausted with that mix of worry, guilt, and sheer tiredness that makes you question every decision you've made.
She called her neighbour Grace Ntoutoume, a mother of four who had, in her words, "seen every childhood drama Libreville has to offer."
Grace asked, "Does he scratch more at night than during the day?"
When Nadège said yes, Grace didn't hesitate.
"That's pinworms, chérie. It's not dirt, it's not bad luck. Take him to Dr Ella tomorrow."
Pinworms are one of the most common parasitic infections in young children anywhere in the world, and they have nothing to do with how clean your home is or how attentive a parent you are.
The worm, Enterobius vermicularis, spreads through microscopic eggs that children pick up on their hands and then transfer to their mouths through the completely normal habit of touching everything and forgetting to wash.
Once inside, the eggs hatch, the worms live in the intestine, and at night, the female worms travel out to lay more eggs around the anus.
That nighttime itching that pulled Divine out of sleep wasn't random; it was the parasite's exact biological rhythm, which is precisely why symptoms almost always worsen after dark.
When Nadège finally sat across from Dr Ella Nguema, the paediatrician's tone was calm, almost reassuring in its ordinariness.
"This is one of the most common calls I get," she said, examining Divine gently.
"You did nothing wrong. Some of the tidiest households I know have dealt with this exact thing."
Dr Ella's plan was simple, direct, and rooted in real medicine, not guesswork. First, she prescribed an antiparasitic medication, a single dose, to be repeated after two weeks. This second dose matters enormously, because pinworm eggs can survive on surfaces for up to two weeks, and skipping the follow-up is the single biggest reason families find themselves fighting the same battle all over again a month later.
Second, she insisted that everyone in the household take the medication too, including Steeve and Nadège, even though neither showed symptoms, because pinworms move through families quietly and asymptomatic carriers keep the cycle alive.
Third, she gave a hygiene reset checklist that had nothing exotic about it: wash all bedding, pajamas, and towels in hot water on the same day as the first dose; keep Divine's fingernails short and clean, since eggs collect under nails during scratching; give him a warm shower each morning rather than a bath, because showering rinses away eggs laid overnight before they can spread further; and wipe down shared surfaces, toys, and doorknobs for a few days to break the reinfection chain.
What Dr. Ella spent the most time on, though, was what not to do.
"People hear 'parasite' and panic," she said, "and panic makes parents reach for teas, purges, fasting cleanses, anything marketed as a 'detox' for children. Please don't. A toddler's body cannot safely handle aggressive herbal purges or laxative-based cleanses, and there is no folk remedy that removes pinworm eggs the way a proper antiparasitic dose does. If someone offers you a home concoction for a baby, ask your pharmacist or doctor first, always."
For Nadège, this was the most important lesson of the entire ordeal: that urgency and love can sometimes push a frightened parent toward unproven shortcuts, and that the safest path is almost always the boring, well-tested one.
Two weeks later, on the night of Divine's second dose, the house was quiet again. Nadège sat on the edge of his bed, watching him sleep without a single scratch or whimper, and found herself thinking back to that first 2 a.m. moment of pure helplessness.
Steeve came in, sat beside her, and said, "We handled it. He's fine. You didn't fail him."
Grace stopped by the next weekend with a pot of soup and no judgment, just the easy solidarity of someone who had lived the same nights herself.
If your own child is scratching through the night, it is treatable, and it says nothing about your parenting.
See a doctor or pharmacist for the correct antiparasitic dose rather than experimenting.
Treat the whole household together.
Repeat the dose after two weeks without fail.
Wash bedding and clothing in hot water, keep nails trimmed, and favour morning showers over baths during treatment.
Watch for warning signs that need urgent attention - severe abdominal pain, blood in the stool, or signs of dehydration - and call your doctor immediately if any appear.
Resist the pull of unverified detox cleanses or purges for babies and toddlers; real relief comes from real medicine, hygiene, and patience, not shortcuts.
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