she of a thousand names.

What's in your name? via OnomastikFun fact: We considered the name Poppy, after CNN’s Poppy Harlow, but when it was pointed out
that kids would end up calling her “Poopy,” 😦 we put the kibosh on that.
     .
Before Aisha was born, her father and I had taken to calling her Peanut, based on the way she looked in her ultrasound. Right after her delivery, and for a few weeks following, she was nothing but a big face and cheeks, so I took to calling her Bobblehead, Cheeks McGee or Colonel Fathead (in the most loving way, of course).

Over time, she has become Le Babe, El Bebe, Baba, Baba-lu and Baba-licious. Our neighbours are Sri Lankan, and a term of endearment in their native Tamil is, Chunkitty Bala (I’ve no idea how to spell it, so I’m going with phonetics. My apologies). My father is the only one who calls her that, but more often than not, he just shortens it to “Chunk”. This is perfect, since she is indeed a little chunk o’goodness. Her Portuguese father calls her Amor, or Menina and my least favourite, Boneca – it just means “doll,” but I hate the way it sounds: buh-NEH-kah.

I imagine one day, when she is old enough to speak, she will filter through the nicknames and respond to only those that she likes. For now, though, she is Peanut to her father, Chunk to her grandfather, plain ol’ Aisha to her grandmother, and Baba to me.

The dog, on the other hand, couldn’t care less. 😀

Advertisements

lost dog.

nakitaLookit that face. She used to be the cutest thing going at our house. 

Long before the days of Aisha, our little pup Nakita had the rule of the roost. She had three beds in the house, a million balls and squeak toys, and the undivided attention of all and any who visited. Our house rule was “please acknowledge the dog,” not because she was that important, but because she wouldn’t quit barking at visitors unless she received a rub.

When I was in the last days of being pregnant, Nakita took to lying at or on my belly, which I thought was pretty cute, and I hoped that she would be as attentive once the baby arrived.

And then the baby arrived.

Once the star of the house, Nakita was abruptly usurped as the new pink, wriggling, pooping thing quickly became top dog. Our poor little fuzzball couldn’t understand why, as with other small squeaky things in the house, she wasn’t allowed to chew on, drag or lick it. Loving words of affection and tummy rubs became “Nakita, no!” or “Stop that” and gentle shoves away when she got too close to the mysterious being. Continue reading

colour me big.

It’s official. I’m huge. At least, the belly is. Honestly, I know I’m defying some kind of law of physics, and I don’t understand how I’ve not toppled over from sheer imbalance.

People – friends and relatives – are certainly getting a thrill out of my proportions. Generally, I’ve always been “the skinny one,” particularly within my family. I have an aunt down from Barbados, so my mother and I went to do some visiting on Sunday. I also haven’t seen my mother’s other sisters since the annual family BBQ in August, so I knew they were in for quite the surprise.

Sure enough, there was the widening of eyes and the cracking of jokes (“you look like an anaconda after a meal!”). While I could certainly do without the latter, I got rubbed and patted like Bhudda, which I didn’t mind at all. They are all tickled to see my burgeoning bump.

I read someplace that the third trimester is where babies tend to double in size, and I seem to be the textbook example of this. My father was away for two weeks, and upon his return on Monday, his first words were “Let me have a look at you!” followed by, “Holy, jeez.”

I certainly feel the difference. The skin on my stomach has darkened considerably and itches constantly, despite my religious application of balms, lotions, creams and oils. In the last few weeks, my sleeping patterns have changed yet again; I’m unable to sleep through the night, and there’s no way in hell I can sleep lying down, regardless of which side I choose. My navel still hasn’t popped. It’s just stretched flat and taut across my belly, leaving a shallow little dimple.

Sadly, my boobs haven’t grown any bigger. I’m going to have to be content with the set of small Bs I’ve been given.

biggiesmalls_1
What a difference a month makes.

Braxton-Hicksville.

WP_20131207_001 (1)
The shape of things to come?

I have been dealing with Braxton-Hicks probably since early in month six. They have been frequent and uncomfortable from day one. In spite of the discomfort, the B. Hicks are usually mild and painless; my belly contorts and makes interesting shapes, much like the image above. Right now, though, I feel like I might be in the throes of early labour. It’s 6:49 am, and I was awakened not too long ago by a hard kick from Aisha, and severe pressure around my mid-section.

1. 6:49 am – 30 seconds.
2. 6:50 am – 31 seconds.

Because the sensation is more painful than usual, I am timing these cramps/contractions. They’re coming about a minute to three minutes apart and lasting for about 30 seconds. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m in more pain/discomfort than usual. I really hope it’s not labour.

3. 6:53 am – 35 seconds.

Perhaps I’m just dehydrated, and these are ridiculous Braxton-Hicks. I quickly consulted Dr. Google, and nothing he says indicates that this might be labour (no bleeding, discharge or anything like that. Will keep searching. And praying).

This can’t be labour. Aisha’s still kicking about in there. Continue reading

weekend wrap-up: mixed nuts.

family tell
My clothes can’t keep a secret.

family…
We told the boy’s family yesterday. He’s going for hernia surgery on Monday, so he thought it’d be a good idea to get the fam together and announce the news of the pregnancy and see everyone before he went under the knife. Again, my choice of loose attire gave me away – who knew I was such a fangirl for tight clothing ? – his niece Christina sensed that I was about to drop the baby bomb after spying my blue dress. The news went over well, anyway. His mother congratulated us, claimed she already knew, and then was upset because we hadn’t told her before…her baby boy is having a baby. She was hurt. So emotional, that one. Sweet lady, though.

After the family reveal, I headed to Brampton to see my dear friend Radmila and her husband. They’re like family to me, and they were having their annual summer shindig on the same night as the boy’s family do. I’d originally said I wasn’t going to make it, but seeing that my afternoon ended early, and I had news to share, I hopped in the car and headed north.

As I pulled up, I could hear the music blaring. I opened the door unannounced and made my way to the kitchen, where I knew all of the wives and womenfolk would be congregated. Radmila and her friend Karla spotted me at the same time. Karla’s mouth dropped open, and Radmila said, “so, do you have something to tell us?” I spent the night sharing the news with various guests I haven’t seen in a while. I was truly warmed by all of the congratulations. Continue reading

run tell dat.

runtell copy
This one tells that one, and that one’s gonna tell that one, and so on, and so on, and so on…

I’ve been meaning to expand on the events of a few weekends past, and how quickly the news of my pregnancy spread.

The buzz started at Saturday’s funeral, after I showed up in what I thought was perfectly appropriate funeral garb – black pants and a slightly sheer, loose-fitting blouse. Little did I know that the latter garment would be my undoing.  Many of the funeral-goers went to dinner at my aunt Thelma’s (Heather’s mom) for post-service dinner. As per usual, the young people found themselves in one section of the house (the front room overlooking the veranda), while the older generations gathered in the back of the house near the kitchen.

As I settled in to eat, I was approached by my cousin Chris’s wife Darina – a slender woman with a build similar to mine. We’re not close, but I’ve always liked her. I think there may have been some small talk before we addressed the elephant in the room. I don’t even recall if she asked outright, or just hinted at the possibility, but I did admit that I was pregnant.

“I knew it!” she said with a smile. “I  saw you at the funeral, and… ” Continue reading

weekend wrap-up: dribs and drab.

rainy-day
The weather this weekend was gorgeous; the image illustrates my mood.

a big turnout…
Saturday was Donte’s funeral. It was a massive turnout. Everyone was there. I t was supposed to start at 10; I got there early and could barely find a place to sit. By the time the service started, it was standing-room only. People were still coming after it began, and they were forced to stand outside. It was a beautiful service and a beautiful day. It was both the loveliest and saddest thing I’ve ever been to in my life.  Short sentences. What more can I say?

…and a belly to match
I thought I was slick wearing a loose, blousy top to disguise the pregnancy. Black is supposed to be slimming, right? Boy, was I wrong. All weekend my big belly was big news. Continue reading