Make You Feel My Love

I could make you happy / Make your dreams come true / Nothing that I wouldn't do / Go to the ends of the earth for you 

That's a few lines from an Adele song.  Anytime I fight with MyLove, this song is so appropriate.  This is definitely, most definitely how I feel about him.

Although, MyLove, I am starting to resent you.  There were things I wanted during this pregnancy.  Maybe unreasonable things.  But they were my dreams.  I have yearned for your attention, your romance, and your humility.  I have given you all that I have and bent over backwards to make you feel my love.

I feel like I'm waiting for you to grow up.  And sometimes I feel as though I am waiting in vain.  Sometimes I feel that I am doing this alone.

It hurts my feelings that you aren't able to console me.  It hurts my feelings that most of the time, your ego remaining intact is more important than how I feel.

It's frustrating that I humble myself in self-talk, remind myself you are just human, just like me; remind myself that all things happen in due time, make excuses for the things you do and say that make me cry.  It's frustrating to do these things to keep the peace and still your ego is more important.

It's hard to fight your ego when all I'm usually trying to do is tell you that I'd go hungry for you, so just love me a little harder.

We made a person, a little Black girl.  And when she gets here, I want her to think you're the most wonderful man in the world.  I want her to want a husband like her Daddy.  I want her to see how wonderful her Daddy treats her Mom.  I want her to say one day that she's never seen us fight, that she's never seen us not in love.

I could hold you for a million years to make you feel my love.  And I don't mind letting you make me cry a while longer while you find the man you really are.  For no matter what, I know I am where you belong. 

Forums II

It's Saturday.  So we are officially 28 weeks today.  My cousin and his long time girlfriend delivered their baby at 27 weeks in the month of May.  I have been terrified of not getting through week 27 since I heard that.  It's a devastating thing, I imagine.  To give birth and not be able to take your child home.  But it is also an amazing thing that the technology to support a baby born at 27 weeks exists.

In my head, I lament about my pregnancy alot.  Not the physical pregnancy, which has really gone very normal and healthy, but the emotional and physical circumstances taking place during my pregnancy.


We moved out of our apartment at the end of June.  We were having a lot of trouble finding a place suitable for our income and our space needs.  One of MyLove's friends was going to move in with us, but couldn't quite commit to living in Richmond, so we scrapped that plan.

I was just online, trying to entertain myself by looking on Craig's List for the new rental listings.  I found all kinds of amazing, cheap rentals!  Of course I was irritated.  I wish those had been available when we were looking. 


After a little bit of searching and after scrapping the 3rd roommate idea, we decided to move to his mother's house.  His parents have a beautiful house about an hour from Richmond, with lots of land and love.  We've been commuting between there and Richmond, staying at my sisters' house or my parents house on some nights and in the country on the weekends.  It's been working out.  Everyone has been so welcoming, letting us stay in their homes and being so supportive.  My sisters especially have been so supportive.  I get teary-eyed when I think about them and where I would be without them during this pregnancy.  They make me so happy and when I'm around them, I feel like my life is completely perfect.

Still, it gets stressful.  MyLove and I are growing together, fighting, arguing, planning, budgeting.  It would be nice to have our own space to do it in.  It can also get sticky when we don't get enough alone time together.  Additionally, I'm the only pregnant one, so when it's time to go out, my sisters get dressed, get ready, get drunk, and leave.  I sometimes feel alienated.  I feel guilty for feeling alienated because it is not as if they are trying to leave me out on purpose.  I'm pregnant.  I also feel guilty because I fear that I am telling the Universe that I resent my baby, which I don't.  I think those feelings are normal though and I accept them, go through feeling them when I am feeling them, and then remind myself that I used to party, I'm going to be a mom now, and I'm only taking an extended hiatus from leisure, not retiring.


Sometimes I resent MyLove because he's not pregnant.  We often discuss his "adjustment" to my pregnancy.  I try to be understanding about the time it has/is taking him to come to terms with how much I have changed and how much more I need from him.  But at times, I resent it because I am pregnant and I don't have the luxury of "adjusting."  I have to accept my pregnancy and adjust accordingly for the health and well-being of my child.  I can't drink and say, "I haven't really adjusted to being pregnant."  Ain't nobody tryna hear that.  But he can say that.  He can get an attitude about me not being able to go out with him or something else I can no longer do and cite the fact that he hasn't quite adjusted to my pregnancy (even though we are 7 months pregnant now).  What a plight and a pleasure it is to be a woman.


I am becoming impatient.  I get daily emails from some website I signed up for several months ago that keeps daily track of my pregnancy, the baby's development, and the changes I may be experiencing.  I am counting down to the day girl.  Every Saturday, I graduate a week.  Today, Saturday, August 6, 2011, we are 28 weeks pregnant!! That means we have approximately 12 weeks to go.  

And I cannot wait to meet my baby girl.

Forums

I totally forgot I even had a blog about my baby stuff.  Last time I wrote in here (May 2011), I was about 15 weeks I believe.  I'm 27 weeks pregnant now.  I have gained about 15 pounds.  Originally, I was hoping that would be my cap for my entire pregnancy.  But I have 13 weeks left and it looks like I'm going to gain some more weight.

I'm not that alarmed though.  The 15 pounds I have gained thus far have not been anywhere but on my belly.  From the back, you can't even tell I'm pregnant.  And then I turn around and it's obvious I'm carrying a load.

MyLove is a giant.  At leas he is to me.  He's 6'1" and robust and this baby seems like she's built like her Daddy.

We found out in June that we are having a girl.  At first I was disappointed but now I am ecstatic.  I always wanted a boy first to protect his younger siblings.  I also wanted to learn to do hair before I had a baby girl.  Lastly, MyLove wanted a boy so I wanted him to have a boy too.  His relationship with his father is weak and severely compromised by his father's choices to be absent from his family.  I wanted him to have a boy to parent but I think a girl child will give him the opportunity to flourish as the successful father he didn't get to have.

He is going to be such a good father.  That's the most exciting part of all that is going on.  I am emotional, hungry, irritable, and anxious but there is still a strong element of excitement.  I can't wait to see MyLove and his daughter and the millions of ways she will sucker him everyday, like I did my own Dad, who is still a sucker for me.

A lot has been going on.  I don't make the time to write.  It hasn't been the most conducive lifestyle for a healthy pregnancy but my support network and I are doing the best we can to prepare for a healthy baby.

3D ultrasound pictures coming soon.  I really need to keep up with this blog for my daughter to read in some years.

I'm Gon Tell Yo Daddy

I participate in sheeple behavior often, namely by watching the boob-tube.  I shamefully love television.  I don't watch dry and generic television shows on the more blatant mind-control networks.  I love the more entertaining mind-control networks that you must pay extra for like HBO, Showtime, and the ilk.  I can't wait to be enthralled by Weeds and Dexter on Showtime.  I need to figure out a way for the Mr. to let me get cable at least to watch my shows in the fall!

Anyway, I was watching regular mind-control programming today on none other than MTV.  It was 16 & Pregnant.  I really do enjoy that show, despite the fact there are few appearances of people of color on it.  It does a pretty interesting job of depicting the manner in which having a baby, especially when one is not developmentally prepared for one, changes a life.

This episode featured a [White] couple.  The boy was working full time, some job that requires daily 10 hour shifts.  He apparently also left school in order to work full time.  The girl was forced to quit school and become a full time mom.  She complains to the boy about falling behind in school once she rejoined and not having the time to complete her work.  As soon as he gets home, the boy doesn't clean up, doesn't spend any time with the girl or the baby, and runs off to a friend's home nearby.

When the girl asks for a compromise, he excuses his lack of fatherly responsiblities because he works 10 hours a day.  Coming home to attend to a newborn for 4 or 5 hours while she does her homework is just overwhelming.

So the girl tries for another compromise.  She finds a daycare that accepts babies from 6 weeks to 12 months for free, as long as the mother is in school.  She takes the boy to see the daycare and he completely objects.  He even says "I'd rather quit my job than send the baby here."  But he doesn't mean he'll quit his job.  And he won't admit that he is unavailable and does not concede to caring for the newborn more often.

So they break up.  The girls moves back to her mother's home.  The boy stays with his father and is obviously excused from any parental duties.  The girl complains in an ending monologue that she wished she had known the real boy before she got pregnant.  She continues with the sadness of being abandoned by all her friends now that she has a baby.  You can see the longing for her adolescence in her eyes and the lost hope for its return in her tears.

I tweeted about the sacrifices a woman makes to become a mother, whether or not she is even prepared.  Fatherhood is always optional.

When I found out I was pregnant, I was terrified.  I took a pregnancy test at home and the first thought I had was about him.  He's going to be so mad.  He's going to think I tried to trap him.  I don't even think he wants me and now I'm f*cking pregnant.  F*cking f*ck!  My second thought was my mother.  She's going to kill me.  She's going to be so mad.  Should I tell her that he's American?  Maybe I should tell her that part later.

A few days later, after a doctor's visit confirmed I was indeed pregnant, I was a little calmer about the situation.  And after my wonderful man responded as awesomely as he did, I was even more relaxed.  I thanked him for being supportive and for committing to his child and to fatherhood.  As a woman, I am aware of gender differences and inequities far more acutely.  I know what it meant for him to chose to be a father.  Fatherhood is optional.

When I thanked him, he seemed a little confused, like my gratitude was uncalled for.  Later on, he expressed that he understood my gratitude.  Fatherhood is optional.

As I watched this 16&Pregnant episode, I kept thinking how grateful to God I am that I didn't get pregnant by some asshole, or at 16, or even at 20.  I wasn't much smarter at 20 anyway.  My driving was probably a little better, maybe.

I'm grateful to God that my wonderful man is a genius.  He's protective.  He's highly emotionally available.  He's patient...sometimes.  He eats anything at least once and he doesn't waste any food I cook.  He's a conscious, beautiful, open-minded, affectionate and loving Black man.

And I can't wait to have his baby.  I can't wait to see him hold that baby, coo the baby.  I can't wait to see him follow his little boy taking his first unstable steps.  I can't wait to see him smile at his girl when she calls him Daddy for the first time.  I even can't wait until our child screws up so I can scream on him "I'm gon tell yo daddy if you don't ... (fill in the blank)."  It's nothing quite like the fear of Daddy's ass whoopin.  And my man is going to be such a wonderful father.

Thank you God I made it to 24 with no children.

Running With Scissors

I used to refuse to sleep without my mom or dad, as an infant and on into late toddlerhood.  It wasn't until I started kindergarten and my youngest, fattest brother Lima came around that I ventured to sleep in my own bed on a regular basis.

I shared a room with my other brother, Sheikh, until I developed more concrete ideas of gender and affirmed my femininity with what my brother thought were offensive girlie decorations like lavender haired trolls, Lisa Simpson, and Care Bears.  So I kicked his ass out and got my own room.

But throughout my life, my parents' room has been a kind of castle, getaway, something better than the rest of the house.  For one, other than the living room, the biggest television was always located in Mommy and Daddy's room.  Secondly, the huge comfortable bed and the fact that it was always clean made for a good spot to clear your head and take long naps.

And now, as a grown up, five months away from having my first baby, I wonder what room he or she will find solace in.  What room he'll have his most poignant memories in.  What room's walls she'll write her name on when she first learns to write.

I am about to move in with his or her father in July.  I am slightly preoccupied with what the space in our bedroom is going to look like.  I need it to be big with enough room to construct a kind of corner space for baby and me to play, look at each other, speak Krio and the moderate Temne I know, and tell him or her all I know and everything about me.  I need a space to create the most comfortable space between me and the baby.

There is an immeasurable distance between Marie and I.  Sometimes when she is near, I try to engage her eye contact and I look for something in her eyes that reminds me of myself.  I look for something that looks familiar, comfortable.  The truth is, I have no idea what my mother's gaze really looks like.  I can't recall what's in her eyes or behind them. 

We don't really look at each other, I don't think.  We look at some archetype of each other, some shadow of something or someone else.  That's the distance.  But in that distance, there is a willful longing, like an animal and some cub unexpectedly separated by vast amounts of water.  She looks towards me wishing to bring me near and I look towards her wishing to know her.  And thus, I have spent all my life wading in treacherous waters, to be near her so as to know her.  Alas, I am tired of swimming.  But I'll at least stay in water, cutting the distance until she can meet me too.

This baby has to know me.  I cannot be a mystery to her.  I cannot be unavailable to him. 

I am 24 now.  Even now, when I go home and I walk into the office or the living (the only 2 places my Daddy ever is until he goes to sleep in his room), his eyes still light up with the same excitement I've noticed since I first learned to call him Daddy.  Behind his eyes, I know myself to be the most amazing thing in the world, even if only he thinks so.

When she or he comes in the room, my eyes will always light up, and she or he will know me well enough to recognize that shine.