my eyes, they sweat (and a wee TMI).

eye sweatGonna have to ask my doc about this salty discharge that’s been leaking from my eyes.

I’m a bundle of hormones lately. Got my first period since getting pregnant, and it has thrown me into another existential tailspin. I am sweaty. I am ravenous. I am retaining water. But most of all, I am SUPER emotional. I mean really, I can’t stand myself right now; I literally cannot handle all of life’s feels and I find myself busting a #thugcry at anything remotely sweet or touching.

To wit: I was watching Ellen the other day, and she had audience members participate in blindfolded musical chairs. The last girl standing (sitting?) won a great prize package…and then Ellen – with her generous ol’ self – ended up giving the losers the same prize as well. They were elated, jumping up and down, hugging each other, I laughed along with their joy, then all of a sudden someone started cutting onions in the room and I had to change the channel.

Peanut and I were hanging with the boy yesterday, and he reminded me that this May will be the first time I am a Mother’s Day giftee, as opposed to gifter…Totally stoked. Ha! He knows how to spoil a sista when the occasion calls for it, so I. Can’t. Wait. (Listen, he’s totally got the clean end of the stick when it comes to this whole parenthood thing. The one who wipes the poop gets the gift. Rules is rules.)

Speaking of salty discharge and special occasions, a friend of mind posted this link on Facebook and I completely lost it at the end. Here’s the write up and, peep the video after the jump.

Enjoy! Continue reading

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a day for down syndrome.

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A day for gettin’ Down…It’s a celebration, bishes!

Before having Aisha, I never had a cause.

Several friends and loved ones have been affected by, or lost their lives to various illnesses such as depression, cancer, heart disease, HIV/AIDS, Multiple Sclerosis, Parkinson’s or Alzheimer’s. Others have children with autism, cleft palate, juvenile diabetes, ADHD, or seizure-related disorders.

I have sympathized and sent condolences, offered words of support (or in some cases, attended funerals) and on occasion written about the battles won and lost by the people I’ve known. Yet in doing so, I never felt “close” to the situation – even when it was one of my own fighting the good fight.

Aisha’s pre-natal diagnosis of Trisomy 21 changed all of that. Continue reading

OT: a mother’s love.

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Does it extend across species?

I just read the saddest story in the Huffington Post about a baby elephant in China that was attacked and subsequently abandoned by its mother. The little one cried for five hours (just typing that made me teary-eyed), and the story made me want to gather up this giant baby in my arms and console him.

It was this sentence that started the welling of the wet stuff:

“Photos taken of the crying baby elephant, named Zhuang Zhuang, show tears streaming from his red eyes and down his face. In one shot, he is seen lying under a blanket while he appears to weep.”

The accompanying photo (not the one above) finished me. I couldn’t bear to watch the video.

Generally, I’m a hardass to the human condition, but I’m a big animal-sucky; almost any picture or video of cutelings can set off a series of “awwwwww” from me. And heaven help me if said photo or footage is about abandoned or distressed animals.

On a normal, non-pregnant day, I’m gutted. With all the hormones coursing through my veins lately, I simply cannot.

friday the 13th: part II.

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What? Not this again…

Today marks the second occurrence of Friday the 13th this year. It’s been a fairly innocuous day thus far, yet I can’t help but think back to Friday, September 13th, and the bomb that was dropped on me that morning.

I have talked about my superstitions in various posts in this blog, but aside from a single unfortunate coincidence, I’ve no real ties to (nor fears about) this day. Still, in keeping with the somewhat ominous tone of Friday the 13th, I thought I’d share something that I’ve been keeping to myself for a while…

* * *
I am a creature of the night, and my habitual night owl tendencies have been thrown into overdrive by my inability to sleep comfortably for any stretch of time. To fill the hours between sleep and wakefulness, I rely on my old friend internet to keep me entertained. I’ve mentioned that I’m an avid reader of mommy blogs, but my natural curiosity finds me poking my nose into things that are likely best left alone while pregnant.

Continue reading

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

today is children’s day.

international kids day
Were it not for Google doodles, I’d be pretty uninformed.

Apparently, Children’s Day was proclaimed by the UN General Assembly in 1954. A globally recognized day, its goal is to promote the welfare of the world’s children – especially those living in poor conditions, or those who have suffered violence, discrimination and exploitation.

It’s fitting, I suppose, as today is also the day that one of my dear friends undergoes her second IVF harvesting. Round one was successful, and the result is an adorable, tiny yet feisty almost-two-year-old by the name of Naomi.

I am praying that the second round is successful. And that the result is a boy-baby. There’s too much estrogen happening among my friends and family (more than 10 little girls in the past two years, compared to a measly three boys). We are in dire need of some penis to make things a little more interesting – and a lot less pink – around here.

blogging for baby.

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I am a black mommy blogger. When did this happen?

I have been an intermittent blogger for about 12 years.

I have created (and deleted) blogs that run the gamut: my hair, fashion, sex & relationships, my life here in Toronto and while living in Montreal, random, pictures of interest (before Pinterest), my daily commute and work. However, I’ve never identified as a “black blogger,” where my race/ethnicity was paramount to my online writings. Sure, there were a few culturally-relevant or race-related rants, but my blackness in general was only a small part of having a blog.

I have followed bloggers whose race and experiences were varied and vast; I tend toward writers whose style and tone (and penchant for grammatical correctness) match my own. I also liked to read about travels and day-to-day experiences that were relatable, or aspirational. Ironically, I rarely followed mommy bloggers, as I was a childless singleton with zero interest in how these ladies balanced the demands of parenthood with daily life.

Today, I have to admit – while eating a steaming pile of crow – that the bulk of the blogs I read are about pregnancy, parenthood, Down Syndrome or food. I have come across a plethora of good blogs and great writers, and I know I haven’t even begun to scratch the surface of them. As the soon-so-be black parent of a bi-racial child with special needs, I think it would be helpful to find more blogs from parents of colour who are dealing with some (or all of the challenges) I am about to face.

But why would race matter in this instance, you might ask? Continue reading