Tag Archives: pregnancy

“Black ‘Oman, Hold Yuh Heart” aka Boss Baby Is Coming

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A few weeks ago, I was at the HERStory In Black event, hosted by How She Hustles and CBC. The entire evening – honouring 150 Black women in the GTA who are doing amazing things – was incredible, but there was one particularly poignant moment for me.

Dub poet d’bi Young Anitafrika performed a piece she wrote specifically for the event – a powerful and emotional poem that had most of the room in tears. d’bi guided us through the recognition and celebration of who we are as Black women, with a constant refrain: “Black ‘oman, hold yuh heart!”

Most of us placed our hands to our chests, but I had a moment of hesitation about where to place mine. You see, I currently have two hearts. One has lived, loved, broken, and mended more than the other, but the newer one beats strong with the rhythm of promise and potential.

All that to say – I’m pregnant with Baby #2!

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This pregnancy so far has been very different from 3 years ago when I was carrying Little Magician, and has frankly been a rougher ride. Morning sickness and extreme exhaustion took over the first trimester, and there were days where I couldn’t raise my head for anything except to take a sip of lemon water. This one also took a hit to my vanity – with LM everything flourished, but this time around my skin, hair, and nails suffered until the second trimester. I had more food cravings with LM, and this time (aside from my never-ending desires for ackee and saltfish), my diet is driven more by my aversions – namely chicken, most juices, and dairy.

It also feels like my emotions have also been on an even bigger roller coaster this time around. One of my biggest sources of anxiety is, how will I love two children equally?

I remember being pregnant with LM and wondering what it was going to feel like to be connected to another human being in such a way. I couldn’t imagine what that love would look and feel like, but it came, in all its beautiful and overwhelming glory.  Now, I’m clearly not the first person to give birth to more than one child, but I wonder how my heart will stretch to give another baby the same quality of love I’ve given to LM all this time, and how I’ll be able to keep loving her so that she never feels like she’s lost part of me.

Personally, I felt so changed when I gave birth the first time, that I’m also a bit anxious about how I’ll evolve after I go through the process of bringing another being into the world again.

Who will they be? Who will I be? How will LM adapt? How will HomieLuva and I maintain our identities as individuals and a couple while raising two children? As has been my trend lately, I have more questions than answers – but I know the answers will make themselves plain in due time. If previous life experience has shown me, I never know what I’m doing, but somehow always figure it out – or at least get by without anyone getting hurt. Lol.

For now, I’m enjoying the smoother sails of the second trimester (though I’m still hella tired thanks to chasing one Little Magician around) and awaiting the arrival of Boss Baby aka El/La Jefe aka Lil Remix. The story behind Baby #2’s nicknames deserves its own post, so stay tuned for that – and for all the fun times ahead as I become a mama of 2!

Bee Quammie

Big hair+mouth. Word lover. Award-winning blogger. Health/wellness professional. Social media fiend. Wife/mama/daughter/sister/friend. Dancehall Queen '83-present.

TO YOU: A Letter To My Child, The Littlest Magician (83TI Repost)

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Bee’s Note: This post was written when I was a few months pregnant with my daughter, and originally published on January 2, 2014 on ’83 To Infinity. Read on to see how she got her nickname, and what thoughts were running through my mind prior to her arrival.

January 2, 2014

Dear ___________,

Properly addressing this letter is a bit difficult, because I still haven’t met you.

You’ve definitely made your presence known – but until I see your face, feel you take your first breath, and hear you release your first cry, I’ll have no idea what to call you. I’m sure you’ll understand. I imagine that our first meeting will be overwhelming and filled with emotions that I have yet to experience and attempt to define, so while I’m clear of mind, let me just say thank you.

Thank you for choosing me. I’ve always pictured you as a little spirit already in existence on another plane, floating through time and space looking for the perfect home to call your own. For the longest time, I felt like others of your kind wandered down and peered through nooks and crannies, assessing me before deciding that I wasn’t right. I started to wonder: what was I lacking? Finally, you chose me. You chose us. We’re so quick to discredit and criticize ourselves here – I see now that I wasn’t lacking, but that no other little spirits were right for me until you, at this time and in this form. Once I accepted that your kind comes to my kind in a multitude of ways, you showed up.  I’m honoured and blessed and I thank you.

Thank you for protecting me. In efforts to protect you, I’ve actually been able to create a forcefield around my entire self like never before. You were the catalyst that told me I had to change. I can’t stress the way I used to. I can’t fly off the handle the way I used to. I can’t worry the way I used to (still working on this one – you’ve given me new neuroses I never expected to have). Does this mean that the last few months have been nothing but smiles and sunshine? Not at all. However, your presence has forced me to add a layer of self-assessment when I’m about to fall into one of my old patterns. Because of you, I check myself before I wreck myself. I’m not perfect, but you’ve started a process of change within me that I wasn’t able to do on my own. Thank you.

Thank you for being my reason why. I’m sure you’ll learn as you grow, but people can be fickle. Friends come and go. They betray you. They hurt you the most when they’re hurting themselves. When these things happen to me, I’ll admit – I spend a lot of time (maybe too much) wondering why. Especially when there is no closure, it’s hard to decipher and even harder to move on. Before I found out about you, I was stuck in a tough place, asking myself those questions. Why did people leave my life the way they did? Why did some fade away like smoke in the wind? Why did others exit in an explosion of fury? I couldn’t figure it out – until you. The answer that gives me solace is that I needed to remove those who don’t mean well for me or my family; those who wouldn’t be a source of love and light; those who don’t have the energy or capacity to reciprocate true friendship; those who frankly don’t deserve to be in your presence. Before you’ve even looked me in the eye, you’ve answered questions and given me comfort that seemed eternally elusive. Thank you.

Thank you for the challenges you’ve given, and the challenges to come. So far, you’ve shown me that I possess a level of strength and tenacity that I didn’t realize I had. You’ve made me truly able to take things day-by-day, and I have new discussions with God each night. I feel a different kind of fear these days, but also a new kind of fearlessness. I wonder how my body will change, how my mind will react, how your pebble will ripple the waves of connection between your daddy and I. After being sick, having surgery, undergoing treatment, then getting sick again, I didn’t know if I could fight my way through to get to you – but here we are. Nothing has made me want to get my shit act (I’m working on cutting down my cussin’. Sorry!) together more than you, and I thank you for pushing me.

Now, I hope you don’t feel any sort of pressure when you read this. My gratitude to you doesn’t come with an extended list of expectations. You owe me nothing more in this life than to live it to the limit and love it a lot (I’ll be teaching you about Jay Z – don’t worry). You have done so much for me already, and I can’t wait to see what lessons you impart in the months and years to come. I hope you’ll love me as much as I love you; I hope you look back on memories of me with warmth; I hope you feel as blessed to have us as we do you. You remind me that I’m magic. I can’t wait to teach you to recognize the same in yourself.

I can’t wait to meet you – that’s when this insane amount love I have inside will start to make sense.

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Bee Quammie

Big hair+mouth. Word lover. Award-winning blogger. Health/wellness professional. Social media fiend. Wife/mama/daughter/sister/friend. Dancehall Queen '83-present.