Saturday, August 28, 2010

Month 3: A Viajar Se Ha Dicho!

 "Pa Mexico? Como?"

Alas, one of the many moments that I am sure we'll face as some of the players in our world scrutinize our parenting choices, has arrived.  We are going to Mexico with Solomon.  A family vacation to conclude three months of maternity leave, since I will not see a single free moment until the holidays in December.  I want to relax a bit and give Solomon my undivided attention, without the burden of doing laundry, washing dishes, cooking cleaning and doing all of the many things that we must still do, in addition to caring for him. 

We are out! To sit by the sea, and listen to the waves, and eat good food, and lounge! I need sun light and water asap! The joy of bringing a perfect, precious being into the world, does not necessarily mean adequate rest, fresh air, or sun light-- even in summer.   Recovering from a C-section has made my transition into motherhood, and back to my self (albeit a new self) that much more challenging, so we are out! 

I can't bear the thought of going back to work without having at least two weeks of changed scenery and aire distinto.  Word.

**********************************************

Bueno, nos fuimos, and we all survived. Mexico was just what I needed and Solomon was the perfect travel companion. Truly.  He's a little angel.  He didn't cry on the plane- even when we took off and landed. He made friends with just about everyone at the resort, and adapted as well as any adult.  No mishaps.  No travel bugs. No drama. 

Ultimately, this experience has simply proven that he will grow and adapt to the circumstances he is placed in.  It is his nature.... or maybe it's human nature.

There is no manual for child rearing, and while we should of course take reasonable precautions and always put his health and safety first, we should not limit his experience based on the fact that he is a "baby".  He is a person and will grow and learn wherever he is in the world.  He is also a spirit with this own destiny, blessings, and grace.  He will walk many paths- first with, and then without us- and he will collect memories and lessons along all of them.  That is one of the greatest blessings that God gives us, and he will have it as well. Traveling is one of the tools we have to collect these lessons. 

David and I learned about our differing parenting philosophies, and how Solomon's needs sometimes differ from what we think he needs. We also learned to let go of our fears and focus on what's good in the world, and building our strength to survive what isn't.  Solomon spent the last days of his third month communing with Yemaya and Ixchel on the beach.  He had his first bubble bath (with organic, baby friendly bubbles of course) with mom, and made friends with a World Cup champion.


David and I joined the global tribe of parents, making friends just about everywhere we went, as parents and grandparents of all ages inquired about Solomon, celebrated his wide smile, and helped us navigate through our days with baby in tow.   
 
We survived a tropical storm but we also released a baby sea turtle into his natural habitat.  We sent little Farai off with a prayer for a long, fruitful life, and absorbed the cheers and laughter of all of the children who released their turtles, one by one, into the sea.  I held Farai (the baby turtle) on Solomon and Khalid's behalf, and sent him off with a blessing for his survival and a prayer for my son, and all of us.  

May Solomon's life be marked by as much love and protection as this day was for the 60 plus turtles which were released by children from all over the world, on the shores of Puerto Morelos.  May Ixchel bless the turtles and the children, from her shrine just across the coral reef.  May all of our lives be rich and fruitful, like the countless Mayan women who sung on these shores in honor of Ixchel hundreds of years ago.  May all of our people be free, and our Earth protected from our vices and errors.  


Amazing how one small act can fill you up.

The spirit of all of the children's acts of liberation- releasing their baby turtles lovingly into their true habitat, and wishing for their survival- that will mark Solomon's first trip abroad.  The fresh energy of all of the newly born turtles and of the day will remind us that each day is a gift, and an act of love. 

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Month 2: Family Time

We were so blessed to spend half of Solomon's second month in Delaware with his cousins and aunties.  It has truly been a blessing to have some of the women of my family, particularly the ones that I grew up with, around while I continue my transition into motherhood.  It's nice to have Titi Nancy and Nicole to ask mommy questions of, and it is pure comedy to have my niece, Egypt, nearby as I breastfeed. She appears to have just discovered that boobs make milk.  Hysterical! I think I traumatized her but we all agree that this is just real life learning for little miss E!

Above all, it has been a blessing to have Solomon exposed to pure, unadulterated love.  As he grows, we grow.  In love, in spirit, in patience and understanding with him and ourselves.

And his body is growing so quickly.  Though he is still wearing newborn sizes, his transition to 0-3 months, has me teary eyed. I get all choked up when I see his teenie weenie newborn clothes and remember his little face as we struggled our way through the first few days of feeding.  He has a grown baby face now. His features are already starting to change, as his body has. 

He still looks like a mini-David, but his nose is definitely a combination of Nini and David. Amazing how genes work.... he has his great grandmother's nose... and his great grandfather's forehead.  The prominent Alba face structure, with David's chino eyes, and wide nose.  Nini's bridge.  His color is changing and he is actually getting lighter rather than darker. His hair his starting to shed, as well.

He smiles now, and recognizes our voices.  He is totally  of us. Not ours, but an extension of everything that has come before us, and everything that will be.

A family grows...

Monday, June 28, 2010

Month 1: Discovery and The Milkonator

From 6 pounds 15 ounces, to a whopping (is that a word?) 8 pounds13 ounces... My baby grows! Go Sol!

We are still discovering him.  I know that he is calm and fierce.  Sweet and serious.

Eating is serious business. My breasts can testify.  You would not believe how this itty bitty boy swings his fists and neck to get at me when he is hungry.  Yet another testament to the fact that we are animals.... born with the most basic instincts.  He pulls and prods, and understands that he must do so to get what he needs: MILK!!!


I never realized that this might be the most painful part of motherhood... for now.

The industrial milk pump doesn't help my cause. It's baby boy (aka the milk monster) on tap, or no milk at all.  Okay, we can get drops maybe but he is the ultimate milk extractor.  Wow.  Nature.

Other than that, I love his smell-- and his skin. Both are soft and perfect.  I can still feel his delicate little bones through the delicate layer of not yet fatty, baby skin.  I am afraid to hold him sometimes, for fear I might break him. He's too precious, and I am in love.  Totally smitten. so is David.

We are both a little sleep deprived, and my only job right now is pretty much feeding, changing, and bathing the bebo.  Important things.  I didn't realize that this would be about all I actually had energy for.

How quickly things change.

It is humbling and wonderful to shift consciousness and understand that it is his world. We are just his guides. and how blessed we are to discover life and it's meaning through his eyes.

Friday, May 28, 2010

Solomon Amir Farai


Dear Friends,
We proudly and humbly announce the birth of our first son, Solomon Amir Farai Hernaiz Alba.  His arrival into the world is a long awaited blessing and source of the most profound joy we have experienced in our lives.  We hope that you will join us in welcoming him and blessing his path so that he may walk peaceably, justly, and joyfully through the world as he carves out his own place in it.Thank you for all of your love, support, and friendship as we carved out our own paths to meet him.  We hope that he gets to meet all of the people of his village soon! 

Joyfully,
Marinieves Alba-Hernaiz & David Hernaiz


The Meaning of His Name
Solomon (Hebrew) Peace. Peaceable; Perfect; "One Who Recompenses". 
In the bible Solomon (son of David and Bathsheba) succeeded his father as king of Israel and wrote Proverbs; Ecclesiastes and the Song of Solomon. Solomon praised as a wise, just and righteous ruler. 

Amir [Am-eer] (Arabic/Hebrew/Persian/Hindi) King/Prince; Commander; "Treetop"; Powerful; Proclaimed; Prosperous.

Term is used for high ranking and powerful official in the Muslim world.

Farai
[Farr-eye](Bantu-Karanga/Shona of Zimbabwe) Rejoice.  "He Who Rejoices or Brings Joy".

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

The Wind and The Rainbow


This is one of the most beautiful stories I have heard about Oya.  It is actually one of my favorite fables about motherhood.  Maferefun Oya. Hekua Ey Iansa, Iya Mi!

Elegbara, aye-o, Elegbara, aye-o, Elegbara, modupe, Elegbara Wonfa nyem, listen and hear, and remember.
Listen my children to the tale of Oya, and her children the colors of the rainbow, a tale of questions and answers, sacrifice and healing, friendship, and trust renewed.
Hear the tale of Oya, come weary to the bone from a long hunt to her home by the black waters of the Niger. There her children are being raised by Osayin, the herbalist, and taught the ways of the woods. She clothes them in purple, and calls each by a secret name--but they see her seldom, she stays but a few days, and leaves the mothering to the old healer.
One day she does not return, the children go hungry, and Osayin is worried. He turns to Elegwa, who watches everything, and asks where she may have gone.
To the East Elegwa goes searching, far beyond the borders of the land, but though he searches far, he finds only tall grasses waving in the breeze, and tracks of the water buffalo.
To the West Osayin, himself, continues searching, far into the mountains of the Cameroon, and from a high place he seems to see her dancing, but when he gets to the plain, it is a flock of wild birds covering the seashore and the remains of a great catch of fish.
To the South, he sends Ochosi, the tracker, who often finds traces when no one can see the way. Ochosi goes hunting, seeking through the jungle, and though Ochosi is able to find traces of her journey and people who have seen her, they tell him she has gone north to the country of her people.
And so the three friends return to the village, each having journeyed and returned disheartened. The villagers are hungry and they do not know what to do as the harvest has been poor. The three counselors do not know what to do but are fearful of leaving the children without their mother, so packing their belongings, they take the children with them.
To the North, then, Elegwa, Ochosi, and Osayin go journeying with the nine children until they come to the hut of Orunmilla, the seer. He greets them, "I have been expecting you, the Fool, the Bow, the Reed. I have seen you for many days in my shells, for you come to bring home the harvest."
"What" speaks Elegwa, "I know no such harvest, I seek only my friend Oya, whose children miss her."
"It is a strange harvest--I see nine children and a mother who does not return and only now you miss her? She shall be your harvest indeed."
Ochosi spoke also. "I see her trace everywhere. The villagers speak of a brave woman warrior, dressed in black with a purple sash, who comes, stops oppression, but leaves before anyone can thank her."
"You see her harvesting justice--and you do nothing but track her traces--what must you learn?"
Osayin shook his head sadly. "I was trusted with her children, but she has left no word."
"You speak of trust," Orunmilla spoke gently, "and for that I will speak. She has come by this way, and left you these horns. Go home, and she will return when you blow them in blessing the feast."
"But what shall I tell these her children," asked Osayin?
"Tell them she will return when the hunters return from the South with no food, when the sailors return from the West with no fish, when the lands to the East are dry, then they should blow their horns and she will return."
And the three returned to the village by the river Niger disheartened. They waited for another moon and thought of Orunmilla's words. Elegwa looked to the East and saw only the shifting stars. Osayin looked to the west and saw only the birds on the seashore, Ochosi pondered the South and the strange tales of a warrior who took no food as reward. And they knew that it was time to call her home.
And they blew on the horns.
The wail of the horns died out, and there was a palpable silence. And from a distance they could here the snort of some beast come to the village. They watched and from the forest came an immense black buffalo, bleeding from many wounds, who ran at each of them, chasing them into huts as if mad with fear.
The buffalo ran about the village, once, and they thought it best to stay indoors. Twice, and they began to peer outside. Three times, and it was if they knew to wait. Four times, and the rhythm of its running made a strange dance on the drums of the elders. Five times, and all the villagers began to dance, ignoring the buffalo as it continued to run. Six times and no one could be still. Seven times and the beast began to tire. Eight times and the drums fell silent. The ninth time, the buffalo ran into the center of the village and collapsed, dead of exhaustion and blood.
The villagers shook themselves, and looked upon the beast, now dead in the village. It skin now hung in tatters, like cloth, and even as they watched, the tatters became loose, and the hooves shrank, until finally they saw Oya, seemingly dead upon the ground.
"No, it cannot be," cried Osayin, "we saw her tracks everywhere and we never suspected."
"She is the harvest we knew was to come, but not at the sacrifice of our friend," replied Elegwa.
"Only the hunter knows what it is to be hunted," observed Ochosi. We tracked her to the East, to the West, to the South, and never knew that we chased a friend. And now, she is dead."
"I am not dead," spoke a voice from the clearing, and they turned but saw no one. "I am not dead," and it was if the sky itself sang. "You see my old form, your old friend, that was but a shell. I am the spirit of the wind, and nothing will keep me from my children." And the wind blew as if a great howling of drums and Oya arose alive again, calling her children one by one.
"Not many know me as you know me, my youngest child, you shall be the Dark Mother (pulling out a cloth of Black). You will lead them by secret ways through the forest when they have lost their way."
"I have shed much blood from the spears of the hunters, you my child shall remember, you are the Blood Mother (pulling out a cloth of Red). You will always remember the blood of the warriors who fight in your behalf."
"The sun shines golden in the fields ripe for harvest, and you will always know its abundance if you call on me. You are now the Golden Mother (pulling out a cloth of Orange)."
"I blind the enemy so that they are diverted and do no harm, you I call my Shield, the sun (pulling out a cloth of Yellow). Do no harm when deflection will do."
"Osayin taught you well the patience of waiting. Sometimes you cannot see the pattern until the cloth is finished. You are now the Weaver Woman. Take this cloth of Green, as you must pull the reed when it is ripe and let it dry."
"Ochosi traced you to the ends of the earth and looked upon the sea. There my winds are forever bringing change. You are now the Hurricane (pulling out the cloth of Blue), forever changing the sea and the land."
"When justice is not done, I grow angry, and become the seeker after truth. I call you Lightning, blasting from a clear sky (pulling out a cloth of Indigo)."
"And when you are old, you will teach the young my words, for you shall be the Crone (pulling out a cloth of Purple). You will be old before your years, and call even the elderly to learn at your feet."
"And you, the eldest child, they will see but seldom as you will follow in my footsteps, invisible as the wind, you are the Dancer in the Flame (pulling out a cloth of Silver)."
Know my friends, Elegwa, Ochosi, Oyasin, that you did not fail me. You, o wondering villagers, you cared for my children even in your hunger. Now when you have need, call me by my horns and there will be fish in the sea, a harvest on the land, and meat for the hunter.
Take up the colors of my children as my token, and when you see them in the sky, know that I am there, and here, and in your heart. For you are now the Rainbow, and I am the Wind.
 

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Letter for Dede

Dear Dede,

You are blessed.  Blessed with love and abundance, wisdom and protection, for you are the son of two who are loved by many.  We are blessed.

May you be born strong, healthy, wise, generous, loving, just and compassionate. May you be touched by creativity and kissed by Beauty, Love, and Joy  in all of their manifestations.  May you seek counsel when needed, and offer it when you are its vessel.  May your vision, intelligence and wisdom exceed the sum total of that which every ancestor and elder have known and seen before you. May you be guided by light, and infused with strength. May you always walk a righteous path.  May you always be a good teacher and student.  May your blessings be bountiful and infinite, so that you may grow taller than any tree in this line. 

I can't wait to meet you and learn your smile. Your father and I love you more than we ever imagined was humanly possible.  Perhaps this feeling is beyond what is called Love. You are life and we honor you reverently, joyously, and infinitely.

Awaiting your arrival,
your momma

Village of Joy, Village of Abundance

May there be no death, disaster, sickness, war, conflict, hunger, poverty, evil tongues, witchcraft or misfortune.
May we be blessed with children, wisdom, long life and good health...
-Mojuba Prayer excerpt


I cannot begin to express my joy and deep gratitude for the love, generosity and collective joy expressed this Saturday at my baby shower. Even calling it a baby shower seems inappropriate. It was indeed a village gathering, an inter-tribal celebration of life. For each of the people that blessed us with their warm and magnificent presence, we offer a humble prayer for your prosperity and happiness, and a divine plea for your protection from all misfortune.

We are so blessed to have you in our lives. You are all so beautiful.

Thank you for your hugs and smiles, gifts and creativity. I am certain that no baby on the planet has quite an extensive collection of unique onesies and t-shirts. LOL =) [Thank you, Dre, for leading that effort!]

According to you all (and your onesies), he is the Sun and a PRINCE, Bomberito (y Plenerito Tambien!), who is touched by joy, love, abundance. He says "All Power to the Babies", and leaves his precious footprints at the end of a long, winding road. He is Joaquin's homeboy and a future Hermano of LUL, but everyone knows that his mom is a Pi Chi. He is number 1 Gran Son =) and wears LOVE on his chest. He knows that "L'Union Fait La Force" and that Brooklyn Luvs Him. LA loves him too. Khalid and Egypt know he will love contemporary art, and the list goes on.... Your love showed through each design and he will wear them all- at least once, even if I have to change him 3 times a day! [which I probably will!]

And for those of you who the Universe kept away from the festivities but sent your light and greetings, we offer the same on your behalf. Blessings and Love.

We can't wait for you to meet him, and for him to have the honor of meeting you. I am overwhelmed, even, at how one little person could move so many people.

Thanks to all of you, he will be born with a deficiency of nothing. Our only job will be to love him and care for him, which we will do zealously as we already do. He will need and want for nothing, for this village has helped to build him a nest that even my imagination could not concoct. Thank you, again.

Even more than your material generosity, I am grateful for your mere existence in his Universe. I know that he felt your vibrations. When looking around, I thought: "with the people in this room alone, we could build a nation." And we could.

Among us, there enough singers and musicians to start not one but several bands... of course!! There were social workers, lawyers, entrepreneurs, educators, builders, marketers, and artisans. Healers and cooks, witches and athletes. DJs, writers, photographers and painters. Actors and public health workers. Producers, cooks (no, culinary artists!), administrative assistants, salespersons and dancers. Hairdressers and masseurs. Filmmakers and yoga instructors. And babies and children (best of all), with endless possibilities.

[Hell, if y'all are down, we can buy some land now! Holler back! =)]

My people, thank you. David and I thank you from the bottom of our hearts.

My deepest and humblest thank you to the Baby Shower Committee.

Ladies and Gents (go bobby and luis!) : You know who you are and I love you for your effort and kindness. You all are the stars in my eyes.

David: Thank you, baby, for being the best behind the scenes helper and head daddy in charge. For real. It was your day, too, even if you made it all about me... I love you infinitely.

See you all soon!
4 and a half weeks and counting...
baby boy I am waiting for you!

Love yous,
Mari

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

loving like that

If the number of pregnant women I know is any indication, then the spring, summer and fall of 2009 were filled with lots of loving for lots of people! We are, of course, animals, susceptible to the urgings of Mother Nature, as she instructs, teases and demands that we procreate, but DAMN Y'ALL! :)

We seems to have been sowing seeds for 3 straight seasons! Go 'head! :-)

fortunately for us all, our babies are going to have some fabulous birthday parties to attend!! Dede and I can't wait! An entire little community born in just a year.

Lindo!

the good, the bad and the ugly: like BUTTA

okay, please add BUTTER to the list of ugly things I just love. :-)
it goes great on just about everything-
-pasta
-bread (even banana bread- yum!)
-farina (you might think that one is nasty, or ask yourself what is nastier- the farina or the butter in it!)
-todo!!

who can resist the creamy, sweetness off salted butter? who?!

Decisions, Decisions: medicine for life

It didn't dawn on me until recently, that by this stage of my pregnancy I would be making life altering decisions for my boy. Typically, at 30-32 weeks you begin to schedule screenings of candidates, for the honored post of baby doc. As I sift through Castle and Connolly, New York Magazine, and my own internal list of "the best mothers I know" recommendations, it dawns on me how deeply political this entire process is. I need to find a doctor who is not only experienced, credentialed, and recommended, but also open-minded and informed about the full spectrum of possibilities and realities in the health and healing continuum. I need to find a doc that is supportive of breast feeding and at least open to the idea of dialogue around the issue of vaccines, for example.

The vaccine issue is at the top of my list of concerns and interests this week.

If you compare the recommended vaccine schedule in 1983 to the vaccine schedule in 2008, it is baffling how much has changed and how little the medical community has done to explore the interactions between vaccines administered so closely together at such a delicate stage in our child's development. Further, little has been done to fully explore the effects of Thimerosal (mercury) on our children's (and our own) development, and the causal relationship between mercury and neurological disorders, such as autism.

I can count more than a half dozen children with autism born over the last 10 years, to family and friends. Many of them share the experience of having experienced developmental delays or regression AFTER having taken their 12 month series of vaccines. While no formal "study" in the US has undertaken this topic, I don't buy that the risks of NOT taking vaccines outweigh the risks of taking them. Though I haven't made up my mind yet, I know that I want to be better informed, and I want to find a knowledgeable health care practitioner who cares enough to have a dialogue with me about my options.

Even if I choose to vaccinate, I know that there can be some choice about when and how vaccines are administered. For example, the MMR vaccines can be given separately, rather than all in one shot. Delaying the series of vaccines until the baby is 18-24 months, is another option. There are many.

My job right now (as it has been for 31 weeks): read, be informed, ask questions, and think very carefully about any thing I put into my son's body.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

140

Back to the blog!

I have been banned from using the computer for close to two weeks thanks to a nasty little muscle spasm that left me on bed rest for an entire week. Sucks for me!

So far, that has probably been the absolute worst thing I could have experienced. The intense pain of a lower back spasm AND sciatic nerve with no drugs and limited time on the electric heating pad, was HELL! I am talking, crying, whimpering pain all because I don't stretch enough when I am on the computer at work, and I lifted a few too many "light" boxes the week before. Bruta! I sure learned my lesson: respect the body- even if you are not pregnant. We all have our limits and while my immune system is consistently gloriously DIESEL, my old bones are not... my muscles miss Ms. Checkhan's yoga classes and the golden days at Integral Yoga.

Me estoy poniendo vieja. Word.

Thanks to accupuncture and a very diligent and patient husband, I can now bend at the waist and stand (it was that serious). Thank you, boo. Bed rest was good to me, too.

Throughout it all, the scariest part was my mommma-to-be nerves freaking out over whether or not the baby was okay. Though my OB and the 24-hour nurse on call at my insurance plan assured me that he was fine, I just knew that the excruciating pain I was in had to be affecting him. I was just convinced that my accidental nap on the heating pad made him too hot and that the adrenalin running through my aching body was somehow disturbing his peace.

Fortunately for my frayed nerves, my monthly visit to the doctor's office confirmed that my little man was just fine. His heart was pumping at an approximate 140 beats per minute.

Music to my ears.

the good, the bad, and the ugly

Pregnant women everywhere- and the people that love them- know that our relationship to food is one of the most intense, and ever-changing dynamics of our daily lives as preggers.

My first 5 months were colored by intense nausea, though I rarely vomited. My first month I had an intense love affair with broccoli and cauliflower. Months 2-4, I could hardly eat anything but bread, cheese, and fruit smoothies, and now my most recent love affair is with pistachios and ice cream- or pistachio ice cream, depending on the day.

That said, I haven't had too many of the infamous "cravings". Instead I have been intensely repulsed by certain foods, or madly committed to others simply because they do not give me indigestion or heart burn. What a life!

A dear friend confided today that eating vegetables has truly become a labor of love- which she hates- while another pregger in my world happily chows down on anything her heart desires. Expanding bellies and booties aside, the general wisdom of donas and fly girls alike, is just eat!

Eat what you like when you can. Be mindful but not overly restrictive. Good food experiences can be hard to come by. Some sisters have it so bad that ENSURE is the only thing their poor bodies can take, so be grateful that you can eat at all.

Generally speaking, I love good food- good, healthy food, with an occasional cheeseburger or vanilla milkshake thrown in for good measure. This little boy inside of me, has some some very peculiar tastes of his own, however.

Among his likes over the last 6 months:

The Good
*Avocados
*Pistachios
*Salmon
*Bananas
*Oat Bread
*String Beans
*A good hearty green salad with nuts and corn
*Soy Chicken & Avocado sandwiches- yum!

The Bad
*Ice Cream (ok, so it has calcium but I have NEVER liked ice cream so much)
*Flan
*Cheeseburgers (at least 2 times per month)
*Baked Potatoes (nice)- with BACON AND SOUR CREAM!
*Fried yucca with fried eggs (OK once a year after a hangover is great, but he likes him some fried yucca)


The Ugly
*Cheetos (yes, Cheetos, y'all! I never even liked them as a kid)
OK, that's the ugliest so far... besides maybe the sour cream dip... and chips :)

what is with me and sour cream?!

Monday, January 25, 2010

baby, love the ladies

Seriously, people, pregnancy has made me love all of the temples of estrogen in my life more than ever. Women rock!

You wake up. You feel like crap. The baby boy has his tiny foot lodged against your bladder all day, and you think: "damn, how embarrassing. I am in the bathroom every 5 minutes. Argh." You want to growl, and sometimes laugh at how absurdly ridiculous and beautiful your life has become ('cause it really is beautiful).

It's humid. It's raining. You are super focused, weaving in and out of New York City's gray, skanky puddles, and some random woman, says, "are your expecting?"

You respond, meekly, "yes."

"I knew it. You are just so beautiful. You have the glow. Good luck. God bless. Do you know if it is a boy or a girl?"

And you think, "is she serious? My socks are soggy 'cause I forgot to put on my rain boots (another pregger bubble brain move). That lovely pregnancy induced zit on my cheekbone is red and rugged, and my fingers look like little sausage links (another joy, as random parts of the body retain water)."

But you simply say, "thank you. A boy."

She smiles, and keeps it moving.

You smile back. Really. One of those warm, fuzzy smiles. You still don't know what glow they're talking about, but they are all talking about it.

I thought it was the round, hard melon protruding from my cardigan, but if you say it's a glow, I'll go for it. Why not? Thank you, sis. Like, really-- thank you! You just made my day, lady. David says it all the time, but he is supposed to. It's like a contract. You get a girl pregnant, you damned well better make sure your worship the ground she walks on every day of her swollen life. I mean, David is naturally a sweetie, but strange eyes upon your swollen, lumpen mass feel kinder somehow. Like: ok, so I don't look like the really round, walking space cadet, I just know I must be.

So everyday, I give thanks for the sisters who walk the world in solidarity with us preggers.

Thank you, ladies!

God knows it helps to quell the testosterone-inspired tendencies (in my case) of the PreggerNator...'cause you all know that I am generally mellow and easy, but every so often, I roar in my Sagittarian glory, and Mari Raw can be found on a local station in your viewing area :) And the PreggerNator is worse! It takes a lot to bring her out, but it is no holds barred gangsta when she hits. [Sorry, guys. My tolerance for bs, or extraneous stress is pretty low these days.]

So, baby boy, you had better love the ladies like LL. They make Mommy's day just a little brighter. Brothers are sweet. They are cool, too. But truth be told, they are a little weirded out by the preggers among us. Maybe they had a PreggerNator in their life. Maybe their love and admiration is so great, it just overpowers their good, common sense. Either way, pregnancy is a great time for sister bonding. Girls need girls sometimes. And you, my little prince, need them too. Happy Mommy, happy baby.

And just knowing you are in there inspires love. Metta kind of love. The Buddha would be proud.

Every act of solidarity is a point of light in your little crown, baby boy, 'cause it is all love. One day you'll realize that some of us really are crazy, and others of us are a plain old mess. But the divine secret to all of us is that we just naturally give love. (We do-- unless you f*^% with us.) So love us, adore us, give thanks and remember that little lads must love the ladies.

Saturday, January 23, 2010

it does a body good

ladies, sistas, mujeres (especially the ones that have pushed a little watermelon sized thing out of the sacred shrine called your nani),

[Sorry boys, you might not get this one but it might help you get us.]

Holy isht! Pregnancy is real. As I was saying in an earlier blog, this is the first week in which my pants almost don't fit. Thanks to the bella band and belly belt, I can still still keep hope alive and rock my favorite Michael Kors jeans, but ooooh, I am pushing it. When this little boy decides to roll up into a ball and tuck himself into my side, I can hardly sit up straight. My food (which takes too damned long to digest) makes its away up my digestive tract and I distinctly feel my organs (and other things I am sure God/dess did not intend on moving in the original design). Whew! It is real.

My ass- that which God/dess blessed me with plenty of to begin with- is wider. My hips are rounder (why?!), and my thighs seems to have become home for the avocado and rice bowls that assuage my hunger when everything else gives me indigestion. Candela!

And let's not talk about the boobs. Jesus! Is it really possible to grow an entire size and a half in (almost) 6 months?

I am going through it y'all. I am not quite upset, just tripping at how quickly the body changes. The sleek life cycle sitting on its ass in my living room, hasn't seen this ass yet!

I just want to sleep, or daydream. I walk into rooms and forget why. My world is happily spinning along, as my body sprouts an extra this or that. Who wants to cycle? I mean, I do, but not really.

And in all of this, I think about "the good old days". I mean the ones before marriage (smile)- when my round Puerto Rican booty was tempered by a much smaller waist and just right boobs. Just enough to keep my man focused. I am going to have serious work to do after this little man makes his way out. Gotta work it out. Literally.

But as I think about these changes and the little swimmer swirling his way around inside of me, I am so grateful that I can carry him there. Comfortably. I hate cramped spaces and David is semi-claustrophobic, so I know that Dede is grateful for the extra room. In my pregnancy induced stupor, I occasionally imagine that he is hiding a little sister in there, too. Protecting her and keeping her until she is ready to show her face to the world. [A private girl, like her momma.]

[True confession: I had a dream 2 weeks ago that I gave birth to twins! A boy and a girl! Boy, was I sweating! Can you imagine? a Little surprise on June 1st? "Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Hernaiz! You have an extra baby in there!"]

Ay, Dios! Candela!

So anyway, in all of this, I am thankful. Not just for Dede, for whom I will give thanks every day of my life, but for this new relationship with my butt- and every other part of me.

I am learning to be forgiving. Things grow-- and they shrink... eventually... if you help them along. :) But the body is wise. It knows its function. Its gifts exist beyond the aesthetic, and what you see, or wish you saw.

Somehow with all of my roundness, folks still manage to find "the glow", or say how beautiful pregnant women are- and I am.

We are. Round booties and all, in tow. And how perfect that I can give thanks for it. Love it. Enjoy it. And those avocados! :)

And the big, round belly inching its way past the waistband of my favorite jeans is the most beautifullest thing in this world.

Pregnancy-
It does a body good.

Letter to Ayiti #2: Kampe Ansam (Stand Together)

Ayiti,

Now that I have found my strength, I have so much to tell you.

The world is at your feet, again.
They have seen your body shake
with suppressed cries and laments
and shouts
they have come
finally
some of them remembering the times when
you sat them lovingly your feet
hand upon their shoulders
counseling on freedom and emancipation

they do not remember Boukman's ritual at Bois-Caiman any longer
they do not remember François-Dominique Toussaint Louverture

but I do
and I will tell my children
and they will know
and they will remember how you inspired Boriken and Cuba and Jamaica
and the whole world
and they will know that you showed us all
your maps to freedom
and that you were free first

Ayiti,
your brothers and sisters are gathering in prayer and dance circles
in the Bronx, Brooklyn, and Harlem

they are standing up on your behalf
your flag draped over their shoulders for comfort
as they navigate these darks days

The children of Saint Domingue and Ayiti have joined together
on the island of Manhattan, as well
fututus, vaksinn, and machetes in hand,
preparing the way for Gede

they are called Kalunga Neg Mawon and
and they carry the flag of unity,
reminding the world and each other
that you were One

your neighbor to the East, Puerto Rico,
has sent you 4 million pounds of food and relief
on the Barge of Hope-
she is 250-feet long, 80-feet wide
and on her way to you now

Maferefun Elegua!
She will arrive on Monday
and feed Port-au-Prince for one week

you see, Ayiti?
the Sea is kind--
what could have taken days or weeks to transport via air
has been sent to you with love across the Sea,
which your children have worshiped and danced upon so many times--
you see?
Yemaya and Mami Wata always repay their children for their generosity

This makes he hopeful, Ayiti,
for I know that Boriken's children are hungry, too
they are in need of relief from many burdens
I have seen the open sores on her sons' bodies, like Lazarus,
oozing with pain and lost hopes drowned in manteca
I have seen her daughters' ravaged bodies,
infected by dirty needles and
violated by unloving hands

But even with this, she remembers you
and Cuba remembers you, too
she has no medicine to heal her children's ailments and woes
but her healers have made it to your shores
they remember when your children planted the fields of Oriente
and harvested the cane which filled their bellies for so long
Cuba remembers and she loves you, too

But that is not all
I want you to know that just yesterday,
one of your sons was recovered.
trapped 10 days under 3 stories, he survived
he is alive and and he is whole
22 years old with a lifetime ahead of him
and a sound memory in which to store maps of Port-au-Prince as it was
before the fall
he will remember your traditions and churches and street vendors
and how the Sun fell upon your face each day
so that his children never forget

and sister,
we have other life to celebrate!
no, we have lives to celebrate!
Baby Vincent was born on the USS Vincent just days ago
and he is perfect
Perhaps he will be like Vicente, my father- a warrior
Or like Vicente, my grandfather- a lover of beautiful things
Or like Vicente, my brother- a devoted father
Already your Vincent is great
for he has inspired US soldiers to nurture life with their precious hands
and make peace
and help things grow

Ayiti, give thanks for this sweet fruit,
for this seed planted on your rich soil

We stand together, sister.
Do not forget that you are not alone.

battling the urge

Consumption, consumption. Oh, woe is me!

Babies- and people, in general- don't really need much. David says it all the time. I know it. I have lived it.

Food, clothing, and shelter. The basics.

But alas, I am also a daughter of Ochun, and I love fine things. Pretty things. Sweet smelling things. Things!!

I could live without them, and have. And even liked living without them for extended periods of time. But they are so nice to have... sometimes. Even the hippiest of the hippiest (ahem, some of you all. Ok. Us, all.), have their natural and organic finery. U.S. culture turns everything into a damned consumer feast. So even if you want to make, your sweet, fine things, you have to buy the materials!

[Ok, we can grow our materials, too, but that's a bit harder with a manic (or not so manic) American life. 8-10 hours of work. 1-3 hours of commuting time. Maybe some time to sleep, eat, walk, breathe fresh air and make love... You know. The basics!!!]

Lawd...

So back to the topic at hand. As we prepare for the baby, and I hit the first week in which my regular pants kinda don't fit(thank you bella band and belly belt for extending the waist on my pants), I realize how quickly my head has started spinning with images and thoughts of things!

Maternity clothes. Not too many, but enough to ensure I look like gente when I go to work.

And for the baby...

Food: breast milk. Easy, right? Wrong. If you have to work like I do, then you need to buy a breast pump! Yessir. And the "cheapest" one is not cheap, because who has time to sit around with a hand pump. Not I. No, sir.

Shelter: we have that covered for now but we need to move because the amount of time it takes me to commute to my job will be extraordinarily nuts if i have a little people (yes, I called him a little people) to rush home to.

Clothing: lawd!!! Why is everything so damned cute?! Thankfully, he'll be born in late Spring. By the time summer, hits, he will be out in the world in diapers and camisetas! Holler! But we live in the north, people. He needs warm jammies and things.

And babies need other cloth things. Bibs and socks. Burp cloths and blankets. "Not a lot" is plenty... and it is also designed to be small and cute and perfect, and make you want it all.

So, I have discipline- and common sense. But, oh, am I fighting the urge.

I don't want the boy to be a gluttonous American consumer. Hell, I don't want to be a gluttonous American consumer. God knows, people all over the world are raised with less and turn out beautifully. But alas, I have to admit that I am enchanted by the cut of a onesie, and the trippy colors of the baby layette universe. I've loved miniature everything since I was a kid, and now I am really fighting the urge!

[Note to my peeps: I am a work in progress, and some urges, will be satisfied.]

a little boy named Hope

With all of the madness in the world, I am deeply grateful to God and the Universe for the smallest things. Not only was Haiti hit with a 6.1 after shock, but Argentina, Venezuela, and a number of other countries have been hit with (thankfully) less powerful quakes. Floods are again swallowing up the land and entire communities are being forced to evacuate... all in two week's time.

The Earth is pissed, y'all!

Without jumping on a soapbox, I'll simply say that we have to live better... be better. We are but small and insignificant creatures, living on the surface of a great and powerful being... and when she unleashes her wrath, it is really not a game. We all know that when we choose to live harmoniously, the blessings are bountiful. So let's give love and respect to the land on which we stand.

I want my baby and all of your babies to drink fresh water, and breathe clean air, and have fresh, healthy things to eat. So, please...

And yes, it means wrestling with our dual consciousness 'cause we live in a sick and complex world, my friends. Building sane lives means working every day so that we don't get sick with it. Got it?

So onto the happier news of my life, 'cause I said this was going to be a baby blog (cheese smile), we are having a BOY!

Yessir!

God decided to give the world a little more time to prepare for a fiery little girl, and gave us a precious little boy.

I knew it! I have been calling the baby "him" and "he" since Day One. And thank God, or like, I said, my daughter would have been very, very mad at me.

He has been swirling around for about 2 weeks, making his first (palpable)moves and today he kicked! I swear, he did. Either that, or he lodged his little foot in some crevice of my uterus. Eek! But it was totally a swift jab to the lower left belly! Yay! :)

With all of the sorrow in the world right now, I want him to know that he is hope. If he was a girl, I would definitely name him Amali, after my little homie, Amali Sierra... and in honor of East Africa, where I read some Zanzibari palms (which we would totally have to train her to do), and fell in love with the scent of frangipani.

Since he is a boy and I don't want to name him until I see him, I'll simply have it recorded here, that his name is Hope. His spirit is Peace. His weapon and tool is Wisdom.

I always imagined that I would have a little girl first, for some reason, but God/dess knows what s/he does, and I am so happy to welcome another little light into the world. Boys rock!

And this one is mine! To adore and nurture, until he decides where to shine his light and plant his seeds.

Thank you, God/dess.

And thank you, Hope, for choosing us.

Friday, January 22, 2010

A Letter to Ayiti

It's been days since I had the energy to write anything down- to commit any words to paper or screen.  My mind is full of them.  And my heart is bursting with strings of tempered cries and shouts for Ayiti, and the Earth which spits her up and out so brazenly. What have we done to her?  A la Madre Tierra quien escupe sus hijos pa' fuera, uno por uno, con cada temblor?

Ayiti,
I am so glad your children still remember the strength of your hips and back
they are slowly emerging with shovels and drums in hand
to dig and mourn
to build and praise

the Christians have set their altars on shattered buildings
and everyone else has made you, an altar--
the world's prayers upon you,
summoning Le Bon Dieu, Jesus, Yahweh, Allah, Sambia, Ganesh, and Boukman

no yam or rooster
no candles or cornmeal
or white cloth to cover your dead
but the veve have been laid with ash from Cite Soleil and the Presidential Palace
the markings are there and Damballah is rising, to create again
your scars and bruises will be washed with sweet water from Ezili's mouth
and one day, there will be a dance for the dead

no more trails of blood and ash strewn across your womb
no more tattered flags of hope or mudpies for the evening meal
no more bits of freedom settling into unmarked graves

And Ayiti,
the restavec, too, have been liberated--
now none of your children have names

they are all called, Ayiti
nothing but your name to call home

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

black pearl, unfurl your flag of hope

7.0 on the Richter Scale.  6 miles beneath the Earth's surface (even when they are 200 feet beneath, they are devastating). The worst in 240 years.  New York and the world are crying. 

Haiti, la pobre.

We hold you up in prayer (yes, Dre, we do):
Aganyu, baba mi, te ye ye.  Te ye ye.

Spirits of Toussaint, Boukman, Ezili, Ogun, te suplico.

baby shine your light on her.  your spirit is big.

black pearl, unfurl your flag of hope.(hec one)...Emi play that trumpet, pa. Uhuru!

Child's Play

I work in youth development. I run a community school to be exact.  A place full of beautiful, hormonally-challenged pre-adolescents, raging with love and rebeldia every day of their precious lives.  Naturally, we receive donations and discounted items for distribution to our students, and the community at large.Why- since the moment this little being began growing inside of me- have we received the most random assortment of donations, including 150 mint green baby photo albums (we don't have a head start program!).  How random!  Really?!

I feel like Dede-that's the baby's official nickname, though I better never hear you use it (s/he's just "baby" to you :-)- is conspiring to remind me of him/herself each day, in the oddest, cutest ways.  David and I have secret names picked for the baby, and we now see and hear them everywhere.

Flicking through cable: hear one name on 3 consecutive channels... no lie! At the doctor's office waiting for the elevator- see one of the names on a poster...S/he is everywhere... taunting and teasing, reminding that we have to wait until June to meet him/her.

Ooh, when you come out, that little butt is mine... :)  Well, it is mine... or mine to guide through life (for a little while).  But you really have it coming! What 'it" is, I am still unclear.  Lucky.Shoot. :)


And yes, I have reverted to 3rd grade obscenities.  No cooing language or baby talk, but straight third grade gangsta.  I am going to have fun with this kid.  I can't wait.


In other news, I am consciously fighting the urge to buy every cute baby thing I see.  I ain't gonna do it.  I ain't, I say.  But it is so tempting... soooooo tempting!


I know.  The baby will grow like a little mutant for the first 9 months.  Then, maybe s/he'll stretch out and fit a size for longer than a month and half. I get it.  But so tempting is it :)

Who can resist soft, fuzzy things and mini people clothes? Who?

I have a little people inside of me. Crazy! God help him/her. [Smile].

Your mother is kind of bugged.  Well, maybe a lot bugged, but I am working on tempering my wanderlust and randomness.  I promise. Really.  God knows the streets and lounges of New York City have seen a lot less of me over the last four years.  Lawd! 

Nyoka misses me.  Hilda wishes I would come out to play.  Manny wants to heal my constricted working sould (I swear, I am good, mama). Rosa just laughs.  The old days.  Good. Old.  Days.  I can't wait until you are grown! Actually, I can but I just know that I have it coming.  I am getting ready.  Ni yo ni tu papa somos facil.  Candela, mijo/a. 


Mommy friends: get ready and gear up! It is on! Unless I move from the northern hinterlands, though, we may just have to settle for long distance lovin'.  Bendito.

But do you know what?  Anytime you want your kids to see seagulls flying above short, stubby brick buildings, bring them over.  It's a Bronx experience like no other.  I bet you don't haave seagulls (except maybe Rashida).  Think about it.  Really.


Bueno, people, I am getting the official sleepies.  I want to go crawl under my man's armpit and smell his sweetness. He he.

[On a total aside, a man's natural scent is so important to a relationship.  And I don't mean funk- though you should be able to enjoy that, too, every once in a while- but his scent.  It is usually born somewhere between his sweat, his breath, and his soap or cologne.  Rico.  I love David's scent.  More than anyone I have ever met.  Yum.]

Crawling.

Oh-- and before I forget- I am sorry, Mrs. Frosch.  I know already that this blog is going to be every English teacher's nightmare.  Get out your red pens!Y Sra. Scrag: I can't figure out the accent mark situation.  Perdona.  Pronto lo hara. 

Bueno.  Ciaocito  A mimir con los angelitos.

Yoooooo!  Hilda, Loira, somebody: what was that munequito on Ch. 47 when we were growing up? The little owl or creature that sang the buenas noches song?

I have to get a clip of that for posterity! Dede must know the buenas noches song.  And the little creature guy. Yes.

OK.

Buenas noches.

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Baby's First Words...and Kiss!

Mercury is in retrograde but it is a great time to finish your unfinished business, so here I am starting some unfinished business with myself... el blog! And who better to inspire me than the little person growing inside me? S/he deserves a productive, happy, and inspired mama! Thank you baby for the light and discipline!

If I had begun this 20 weeks ago you'd be sick of my complaints of nausea and hunger (!?) yes, simultaneously repulsed and smitten by food. hungry all the time!! and sick and tired of being sick and tired. motion sickness. argh! but oh so happy... :-)

oh pregnancy.... what a complex web ye weave... and yet i grinned through it all at the mention of a baby...oh, little hungry creature how ye seduced me... in love from day one! hungry, nauseous, and smitten by a little person i just couldn't wait to meet!

the first sonograms and ultrasounds...the little mushy mass slowly transforming before my eyes into arms (drumming at the first ultrasound.... i swear!) and legs (long!), and prominent forehead and nose... david's head and nose to be exact, and then, week 19- my lips!! finally! as the ultrasound invaded his little world (i am fighting the urge, but i can't any longer. it feels like a boy, and i have been calling my baby "he" since i found out i was pregnant)... so, HE puckered his lips (i have pictures to prove it! ha!) and kissed the invading foreign mass...


ultrasound pictures 1-3 show the progression: 

little full, round lips slowly opening- widening, in fact.  then he reached out... full burbuja and MWAH! his first besito... rico! and all along i am wondering, "so does he have a penis? 'Cause I just know it's a boy!"

but of course, we can't tell... well, the sticky in my file knows... and my secret lock box knows... but the world can't know... of course, i know.

He feels like boy.  In my vision, he smelled like a sweet little boy... he's a boy... and he drums, so he is definitely a boy... though the Yayas and Norka and Joyce and all my fierce sister girls know girls drum too... he was drumming...two hands at a time, horizontally placed. bata. as in anya.  David saw him. I did too.

So he makes burbujas, and blows kisses, and he drums... and he finally made me sit my butt down and blog!
Already a gift...
Bronx-made and bred...
A baby grows uptown...
My baby boy (ooooh, if she is a girl, she is going to be pissed!)
And i can't wait to meet him... or her....


Do you hear us when we talk to you? Or your dad's early morning greetings? Are you listening to haydee in my office? I wonder...hmmmm.

Grow.