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.