Not too long ago, I became a mother to a wonderful little soul. He is everything I could imagine and more. Beautiful, alert, intelligent and always happy. It was not a planned pregnancy and my partner E and I had to adjust and fast! We made the decision to halt on whatever was going on in our lives, and to put this little creature first. This baby is our first and only and there were never any babies running about in my house at any one point in time and besides teaching a primary school for some time, my experience with children, especially newborn, was at zero. Naturally, this new development brought about a change in the environment, and in feelings.

I noticed changes in people’s attitude towards me from the moment that I began “showing.” Though I am quite popular on the island, I was and still am often away from home because of work. Many people were surprised to see me, and additionally, pregnant. I am a very private person and so did not announce my pregnancy, especially on social media. I had a “if you see me, you see me” attitude. The behavior of various people towards me however, had me thinking. I wrote this blog because I wanted to see if I was the only one experiencing these things. Was it only on my island? Is it a ‘black people” thing? Is it considered normal? I need answers. Feel free to share you experiences whether similar or different, in the comments.

I do not look my age, and E looks even younger than I do. With a proper line-up and a shave, he could pass for 18. We, especially me because hey, I was the one with the belly, got quite a few disapproving stares and looks from people I don’t even know. This one lady who stood behind me in the queue at the bank commented loudly after looking me up and down “Boy! Children still making children oui boy!” causing everyone else to turn and look at me. I said nothing and urged E who was howling with laughter to quiet down.  He was at the time struggling to understand our dialect, especially when spoken quickly and it surprised me that he caught on to what the lady had said.

Another woman said very dryly when we walked past her in the capital city one day “Wow! I am seeing things papa!” E had turned around to look at her and told me that she had actually left her position on the side walk, to get a longer look at…..me? I didn’t know. I wasn’t sure and I let that one slide.

Bumping into an old school mate after one of my doctor’s visits, I had to endure a rather strange conversion. “Oh! I didn’t know you were pregnant! That’s nice I guess. I mean, I didn’t expect you to have a baby. So, what are you having? I hope it’s a girl!” she had said. E started to grin, a grin I knew all too well, and I ended the convo quickly. I asked her why however, she wanted me to have a girl in particular, and she responded that it was simply because she hoped to have a girl herself. I really didn’t know what to say and so laughed it off. Speaking to E later about it, because he had brought it up as I knew he would, he remarked how weird it was for her to have said that. “It’s like she is enforcing her personal will unto you” he remarked. I remembered the hint of sadness in her tone when she made that statement, and it made me realise that she was maybe having a bit of bad luck in her efforts to become a mother. Though I did feel weird about it, I harboured no hard feelings towards her. People are going to be people. If God does bless her with a child, she too will understand.

I felt that weird way again when some of my acquaintances found out about my pregnancy and had an attitude because I didn’t tell them. They literally felt that I needed to come to them and announce that I was having a baby. Their vibe towards me instantly changed, and it was not in a good way. I clocked every comment and the attitude that went with it. Needless to say, I don’t really speak to a few of them anymore. I concluded later, when I did the math, that they too wanted children, and probably were not able to. A couple of them were dealing with children from their partner’s previous relationship or on-going, side, other relationships, what the hell do I know?

So, who was I to be so blessed right? I took note.

When I finally posted a picture to my social media accounts one morning, revealing my pregnancy, I instantly saw a decrease in the number of friends on my list. My Facebook friends list is always at 5000, with another 1000 waiting to be accepted. I noticed it was at 4987 by the evening. Thirteen people just decided to ‘unfriend’ me right after I revealed that I was with child. No coincidence. Not a chance. I was also flooded with hundreds of messages and comments of congratulations and other well wishes. With that also came a barrage of questions like “What are you having and when are you due?” or “You should name them this or that” Should. This was a should thing, apparently.  “I don’t know yet.” was always my reply. I found that line of questioning very intrusive. Some of these people had never messaged me before, and others, their last message to me was years earlier. Thank God for Facebook Messenger date stamps.

As the time passed and my belly got bigger and rounder, I avoided being in the capital city, or anywhere really. I felt like too much attention was being placed on me, and my partner. He is not from my island where everybody knows everybody, and has very little social media presence, and so quite a few people were very interested in knowing who he was. It annoyed him how much he would be stared at, and how close to him some women would choose to walk or sit or stand. I remember him asking one of them if she had a coordination problem. If that was the reason why she could not see the amount of space on the sidewalk available to her, and why she had chosen to walk to close to him. He then added a “Wha is dat nuh?” in his attempted Dominican accent, but his full native accent betrayed him and sent me rolling. The result of watching way too many episodes of “B-Smoke” on Facebook, and as if the Universe wanted to have some fun, we saw him (Brittney) that very afternoon. E recalled the jokes and laughed all the way home.

When our bundle of joy finally arrived, it was at 9 am one Friday morning, via C-Section, and at a time when the hospital still held fast to Covid_19 protocols. None of my family members, nor E was allowed to be there when the baby was born, nor to visit me while I recovered. I had to stay on the maternity ward for 5 days before I was discharged. The pain from the C-Section incision was incredible, the Heparin injections burned and left me bruised and blue at each puncture site. My voice was gone from the breathing tube used during surgery, I had very little breast-milk production and I was starving. I could not eat nor drink from eleven pm the Thursday night, up till Saturday morning when I got the ‘go ahead’ from the doctor. Bless his soul. I have no complaints about him. He brough my baby safely into this world and for that I am forever grateful. I had to walk, in pain, to the cafeteria to claim my first meal after surgery and discovered that someone had stolen the meat out of my plate. I laughed like a psycho and inched back to my bed. After all, the maternity ward was for pregnant women and I knew how that went.

As if to add icing on the cake, was the nasty attitude received from some of the nurses on staff. I hated the way that I was being spoken to, with unnecessary sarcasm and rude remarks. I remember telling one of them after she told me

“Whole day you lie down. I have to give you your medication, and wake up the baby to feed. Where that fan come out? You don’t know you cannot have a fan on the child?” A Kalinago queen who had given birth the night before, and was placed on the same ward with me quickly retorted “But AA! Is so nuh?” Then she said to me “Don’t wake the baby. When he is hungry you will know. Trust me!” I had had enough and saw red. My reply was quick and merciless. “First of all, you JUST ARRIVED nurse, so you don’t know anything about the whole day, especially mine and if you are not going to speak to me properly, then don’t at all. There are mosquitoes as big as flies in here, and it is sweltering! The fan is tiny, and my baby is covered. He has on a hat. He’s fine!  If you would read my file, you would know that I am a new mother, so no I don’t know! I am learning, and you would also know that I have already had the Heparin shot that you are attempting to give to me, unless your colleague didn’t write that down!” She never came to my bed again. I clocked that!

Fast forward to the first visit to the clinic. My baby was six days old and I was dropped off by my mother. My tummy was still big, the cut still burned when I moved and my hair was breaking terribly. My mother could not find parking and so I had to walk past the building to find her when I was done. I had my baby underneath his blanket for the short walk to the car.  On my way, a woman sitting in the facility’s yard said loud enough for me to hear “Where your umbrella nuh pal? You don’t know you have to cover the baby? Allu (You) young people dunno (don’t) know nothing. Is just go and get child.” I didn’t respond. That lady acted like I was holding my baby up to the Sun God like Rafiki in the Lion King. By that time, I had already concluded that people were probably genuinely trying to help but didn’t know how. I chose peace. I kept on walking.

Home. God bless my mother. She supported me greatly right through my pregnancy and after the birth of the baby. She helped where she could both financially and physically. What annoyed me often was the fact that she would make remarks that reminded me of the other people that I had encountered and decided to ignore. My baby was quite a calm one, and still is. Sometimes, like any other baby he would cry when being bathed or changed. My mother and father would burst into the room with “Oh my God! What are you all doing to the baby? Why is the baby crying?” whenever they heard it. Honestly speaking that didn’t sit well with me and I was quite happy when the baby did the same to them. I didn’t care how they felt about it and I would run into the room frantically asking the famous “Oh my God, what are you doing to the baby?” much to their annoyance. I chose petty war.

I am a new mother. Experiencing motherhood for the first time. Even if I was told about certain things, experiencing them for myself was unexplainable. I remember being a bit flustered at times because the baby would not latch or because my milk supply was low, or simply because I was going through it while my body tried to adjust to the end of pregnancy, I would remark “Yow! Motherhood is no joke!” or “Wow! I never knew it was like this.”

I did not say those things out of frustration or annoyance. I simply felt the need to acknowledge how incredibly challenging motherhood was, and I was already in the habit of talking to myself, out loud. I would be met with “Nobody doh (didn’t) send you for child you know. So take it”

Even if it was said as a joke, those got me angry, and I usually just stopped talking after that. It was hurtful coming from my own family members, but it made me understand even deeper that that was just the way of “my people’. A way that I had decided to not stick to in any case. A simple “Oh yes! Now you see.” Or a “Welcome to the club girl!” would have sufficed. I hated the tone in which those comments were being made. I was a grown woman being treated like a wayward child who went and got pregnant. Maybe that would have been better.

Being extra sensitive and open to the energies around me, at a time when I was coming down from demi-god mode, made me purposefully seek peace. I mean, I was fresh from creating another human being. I successfully navigated a new soul into the world, and my mind and body took a beating. I did not have time for any negativity. I created and recited my personal affirmations. Listened to soothing music, ate tons and tons of fruit (Shout out to S MART), prayed, and enjoyed my baby as much as I could. I needed my energy to be a certain way as to not affect my prince’s development, and his breastmilk. I no longer cared how I was seen or looked at, and by whom did not matter. I knew what my personal situation was and so nobody else needed to. I sent pictures of my baby to very little people and made sure that they knew that I did not want them forwarding to anyone else! That it was a privilege to have been sent one in the first place. I desired my baby to be strong enough, and soaked up enough in my prayers and love before dealing with my enemies. I also told his name to no one. Told his age to no one. All this was done on instinct and intuition. I still have not posted a picture of him to my social media where you see his face. Choice! Mine and his father’s and we are fine with that, regardless of who isn’t. I see people do the complete opposite. They post pics, say the name, birth date, weight, length and whatever else they desire of their new born babies. It is their child. They make those choices and I usually have nothing to say about it, though I would not do the same. I saw this one young lady post “Such a cutie pie!” beneath a baby’s Facebook photo, and later saw a screenshot of a convo where the same girl said that the baby was hideous and maybe the mother should have aborted. “Nobody wants an ugly baby for a cheating man.” My spirit guides did the Tyrese chin grab and head nod at that one.

I was a mother now, and every step I took became carefully reflected upon. I followed the vast reservoir of intuition that my baby had unlocked, killed mom guilt and decided to do my best all the time, even if that best was seemingly not enough.  

Looking back on it now, I am happy for the experiences. I try to take everything in life as a necessary lesson. Watching him grow into such a remarkable human being makes me want to do even more for him. I am truly happy to have been chosen for such a mission! It opened my eyes and broadened my understanding of many things, and well, gave me some excellent writing content. Thank You Infinite Spirit.  

Sincerely, A Stronger Island Girl.