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.

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What a difference a month makes.

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Braxton-Hicksville.

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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

run tell dat.

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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