Category: Uncategorized
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Hello to my dear readers!
Thanks for all the support that you have shown since I started this blog in October of last year. I give you guys endless blessings.
There has been an incredible amount of interaction to my posts, and I’ve heard some amazing stories. This led me to create our sister blog: Dit Mwen Tout (Tell Me All) where I share some of those with permission.
The first Interview drops tomorrow, on my birthday! 🙂
Stay tuned!
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Hi readers! I’m back with my second blog about my pregnancy/childbirth/motherhood journey. Moms on here, do feel free to let me know of yours 🙂
I have heard so many stories of women’s individual pregnancy journeys. Some of them were understandable, and others I found hard to believe. Of course, I later learned that until you experience some things, you may never fully understand or believe them. I even did my own research just to try to understand how some of the reported experiences were even possible. God blessed me with a beautiful baby boy and now well, I have my own gestation testimony.
So many changes take place in a pregnant woman’s body due to hormones and their instructions, understandably so. Some are expected, like the distending on the abdominal cavity in order to house the tiny human growing and developing in there, and as normal as that may seem, some women go through their entire pregnancy with no baby bump! Amazing!
May I just add that I was 15 weeks along, totally ignorant to that fact, with a six pack!
Hey flat tummy mummy! lol Enlarging of the breasts as the mammary glands begin to produce tons of milk. Swollen feet because of the enormous pressure that they are now under, with at least 25 pounds of extra weight. Other changes are sometimes categorized as strange, unexpected, and downright unique. Seeing that there are over 8 Billion people on the planet, what one may find unique to them may not at all be, but everyone still has a right to their own stories and experiences.
Here are a few things that happened to me during my pregnancy.
I Lost a tooth. Thank God it was only one! I had no weird cravings during my pregnancy. I usually crave chocolates and other sweets right before menstruation, so wanting those in my third trimester of pregnancy was not a surprise to me. Still, it was not an intense need for the sweet stuff, and I didn’t drive everyone crazy to find me candy. I binged on fruit to get the sugar that I wanted. I’d literally go to my regular supermarket (shout out to S-Mart again!) and the workers there would know that I came for all the fruit on the cold shelf. Salty cravings were at the beginning of my pregnancy when I didn’t even know that I was with child. All I knew was that I had a taste for salted fish, Johnny-cakes, cheesy stuff and salty butter. Well towards the end of my gestation, I was sitting at the table having dinner. Stewed chicken wings, rice and peas! Man, I was having a good old time when I felt a crunch. I automatically thought it was a piece of chicken bone, but that part of the chicken usually didn’t have any, unless the main bone was shattered. I spat it out because it was near impossible to crush, and to my surprise it was a huge piece of my tooth! I used my tongue to see which tooth it was, and when I found it, the sharp edge cut me. I proceeded to the bathroom to do a quick rinse so that I could attempt to check it out in the mirror and with the water that I spat out, came the rest of the tooth in tiny bits and shards. My tooth had completely deteriorated and had fallen out! I was mortified! I’m a singer first of all, so teeth falling out was a NO NO! My mom told me not to panic, that these things happen. Ok, but I was worried. I thought that it was as a result of my cravings which to me were not that intense. How many of my teeth were going to crumble and fall out? I visited my doctor later that week and told him about it. He too said it was something that some women experienced. Some babies suck up calcium and other nutrients from their mothers faster than the mother’s body can compensate for and so it results in compromise. This is also common with big babies and boy were they right! Along with my pre-natals, even if there was already some in there, I started taking calcium pills to give my baby all that he wanted, hoping that he would leave the rest of my teeth alone. Thank God that tooth was at the back!
I thank God all the time that that tooth was at the back. I can still smile. lmao. On a good note, the Asthma that made my body a home (for I refuse to say “MY”asthma) reduced its vicious attacks on my respiratory system. It is said that some things get worse before they get better. I’ve battled asthma for a long time. I wasn’t born with it but developed it when I was about 9 years old. I have no idea what the cause was, but over time I believe that have learned my triggers (some of them definitely people! *rolling eyes smiley*) Depending on what I do and where I am, I get horrible, repeated attacks. It is also believed that according to what is ingested, more mucous production can lead to attacks as well. During my pregnancy I had a new type of experience with asthma. In my first and second trimester, I was fine really. We got an air purifier that cleaned out the dust and whatever else was in the air like magic! You felt the difference immediately after turning it on. My triggers would be smoke, dust, pollen, or an aftermath of allergies. In my third trimester, when my belly was huge and all my organs were pushed up to my chest, I went through it. I have heard pregnant women who were not asthmatic complain about the struggle to breathe, so I knew that I was in for it. There were nights where I could not bring myself to lie down. I would pace up and down the room, repeatedly using my portable nebulizer, trying to get my breathing under control. I could not take the herbs that I usually did during my pregnancy because they also affected the condition of the womb, some of them causing contractions and well, I did not want that. I ran through at least five Ventolin inhalers during my last three months of pregnancy, and when my son was born, it was at if asthma had completely disappeared. I had no attacks for months and boy was I happy! I was really starting to believe that I was healed and even stopped buying asthma medication altogether. I was secretly worried that it might come back I guess, because when about 9 months post-partum, I was visited by my old friend. SMH!
Back to the X-Files stuff! My Skin became weird!!! This is probably the most interesting thing about my pregnancy. My skin became weird. Not in how it looked. It looked fine. In fact, my acne disappeared. I had had hormone issues, and therefore skin issues. I went through the entirety of high school with a riddled and spotted face. I still have a few scars today. I guess because menstruation was no longer an option, neither was acne, which for me went hand in hand. My face held an even tone, my pores appeared smaller and tighter, and breakouts were a thing of the past, no matter what I ate, used on my skin or how much I sweated. Bliss, until I noticed my skin’s texture change. I became the clay-woman. I would rest the cell phone on my lap while I did something else and when I was done and would lift it off, I’d have a rectangular impression on my thigh. I would have to peel the thing off like it was glued to my skin. The exact shape of the phone could be seen. If I were to rest my elbows unto my thighs, especially for a long time, I’d have two deep ones, and those would actually hurt.
I had rested one heel on top of the other for no more than five minutes when I felt pain, and upon removing it, I saw this. A deep, burning indent. E would sometimes come feel the baby’s kicks and movements, and sure enough, if he placed his head against my belly, or his hands on my legs, I would have a ear shape on my tummy and his fingers would sink into my skin and print. Everything left an impression in my skin, and the heavier the deeper the impression. I took pics of marks that, hair, ears, hands, pens, glasses, keys and coins left behind. Some of them took more than three hours to disappear. I was a pregnant cup of jello.
I don’t even remember what caused this. I finally achieved an insane water intake. I have never been a normal drinker of water. Even as a baby my mom said that she had to ensure that I took at least one drink a day. As an adult, I have apps on my phone that tell me to drink water. I’m talking plain water here. I do a lot of watered-down juice, or tea, fruits, coconut water etc. During my third trimester, which I’ll now call my gangster trimester because everything seemed to take place during my last three months, turned me into a fish! I saw myself drinking up to 10 glasses of water a day, and I’d run out and have to go refill during the night. Of course, I lived in the bathroom, always having to pee, but the heat that built inside of my body sent me drinking oceans. I hated days when I had to go to the capital city because I knew that every five minutes I’d need to pee. Thankfully, God took care of me. I was never turned away when I asked to use the bathroom at offices of supermarkets. Women ran to my rescue saying “I know how it is!” I tried to keep up the drinking of water after giving birth but I slowly weaned out of it. It’s better than before. I make the effort everyday to drink at least three glasses of plain water, but still go to my teas and fruits.
Singing voice changed. **Insert scary drama music here***
I am a singer by profession. I have been singing for a long time and know my range quite well. I know when my voice is in great condition or the opposite and I also know what notes I am able to hit, and vice versa. I sincerely believe that I gained both higher and lower register notes. Singing certain songs became much easier for me. Where I used to struggle in both range and power, seemed effortless and I noticed it right away. Even now I am surprised when just casually singing to myself and I hit a not that I didn’t expect to. I find myself repeating it just to make sure it wasn’t a fluke.
I snapped this selfie while I was on set in the UK. I am not sure if this is linked to the fact that asthma was no longer a major issue for me for the majority of my pregnancy, but I was happy with this change and tried to take advantage of it by recording some song ideas on my phone, but I was so bloody tired most of the time, I never really got around to it. I did however do my live performances at home for WUNC/ NPR Music and The Recording Academy/ The Grammys with my belly in tow! Links here:
Video Live Sessions: Navy – WUNC Music Session (npr.org)
Despite all of that, I am super grateful that I did not have a super difficult pregnancy and extra weird cravings. I have a healthy baby boy and life is as good as it gets. Thank you, Infinite Spirit.
Sincerely, a back-to-normal (well almost) Island Girl.
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There are so many memories of my intuition speaking to me, but a few really stood out. I guess they were the times that my life depended on whatever decision I made and so the guidance that was being offered to me was much louder than usual. I am also ashamed to say that I began listening to that voice of guidance and acting on what it was saying, very late. Growing up I often found myself in repeated situations and having to tell myself that I knew better. There is a certain way that I feel when I know that something isn’t right. In those times, I felt the instant manifestation of being in the wrong place and around the wrong people within my mind, and my physical body. Those were incredible experiences that I will never forget and so, I have taken the decision to immortalize them here in my writing. One of those experiences was on a cruise ship where I worked in a few years ago. I was a part of a party and pool band, as the lead singer. I was also the youngest and only female.
Many people who know me, know that I command respect without even asking for it. I’ve been told that the way I carry myself says it all. If anyone wants to push the envelope, then they get the idea in the way that I speak. I learned to hold back nothing. To tell it like it is regardless of whose feelings may be hurt. There are not many moments where I can say that I have been disrespected, or an attempt was made to disrespect me by people that I’ve worked with. Those people who did try though, up till this day, I no longer speak to, or have anything to do with. I have felt that the ‘cut off completely’ method has worked fine for me and my boundaries.
So here I was, working on this ship as an entertainer. There is a stigma that musicians or singers on a cruise ship are often promiscuous or usually get into flings. Uh…..ok. Not me. Maybe I need a trophy, but in the five years that I have worked on cruise ships, I have never once gotten into any type of romantic relationship. I have never hooked up with anybody either. No friends with benefits. Nada! nothing! Negative! Friendships yes, some of which still hold strong today. In spite of this, I fell victim to rumours anyway. I paid them no mind and was quite comfortable in my routine of work, sleep, gym and getting my meals. If I wasn’t set to perform during the day, I almost never left my cabin. The three men that I worked with in the band were from my country. I had known a couple of them from music jobs before. Of course, working with someone allows you to get to know them better, and there was one who over time, sent my spirit guides into defense mode.
I took note of how that person would repeat stories where they made themselves look like some sort of macho man, or hero. He would talk down other people, especially a particular member of the band who usually just stood there and took it. He also started making comments about my dressing that I didn’t like. His revolting attitude reminded me very much of the first guy that I had formed a duo with in 2014. We ended up falling out because he refused to understand that I had come to work on the ship, and not to be his side piece. I was an entertainer, so of course I’d have to dress like one. Added to that, I was steadily going to the gym, so, “good body gyal” mode was activated. Ayyyyyye. I remember having to buy new clothes because my body was changing. My legs and glutes were huge, and my tummy was ripped. I was suddenly getting a lot more attention from male crew members because of it, and YES, that’s me in the cartoonized photo below. 🙂 I have since been careful to not reach that size again. I hated the attention.
I got a text from Mr. Asshole as we shall now call him, once at 4 am, asking if I was asleep. Of course, I wasn’t. Having so many years of working at night had for sure messed up my biological clock and so I didn’t fall asleep until 6 or so in the morning. I had replied stating that I was not asleep, then he had asked “Can I come to your cabin? I need to talk.” Already feeling the negative vibe, I had said “You can talk right here” Nobody was coming to my cabin. If you’ve worked on a ship, you would know how small a single cabin is, and I had made it my sacred space. Stay out! This man then responded “I want you. I cannot help myself.”
Catch me gagging. Firstly, he was not at all my type, and second of all, even if he was, he was PUBLICLY and OPENLY involved with someone. I then responded “You’re just missing your partner, you will see her soon. It’s not me you want. So chill and go back to bed.” This sent my guards up even more with this guy. I was honestly disgusted. Not just anybody was getting into these talented pants. Sorry. If you were to ask my current partner E, he would tell you how hard he worked to even be able to get affection out of me.
The particular incident that made me hear my spirit guides loud and clear, in actual words, was at a crew party, which I almost never went to. I had befriended a galley worker; K from Grenada and he was the one who convinced me to come to the party. I had given him raw ginger and a few other herbs that I wanted blended up, to restore my voice, and he had promised to do it after the party was done, and so I went to the crew party when it was almost over in order to collect my drink. I hated crew parties because I got hit on so much. I guess I understood that men would always try. Also, I worked in entertainment and so my life was a party. I didn’t want to indulge in more music after my shift was over. Below is a small clip of me singing on the ship back in 017. 🙂
I arrived and stood by the door for a few minutes. There was a Filipino Crew Band playing and I was enjoying the music. They were really good. I was actually thinking to myself that “crew parties maybe aren’t that bad.” I spotted K at the bar serving drinks, and he caught sight of me too. He gave me a wink and I knew that he had not forgotten my reason for being there in the first place. Such a sweetheart. Bless his soul. I had then seen two of my band members across the room and so naturally made my way to them through the crowd. We greeted each other and continued enjoying the music. It hadn’t been two minutes when I noticed the third band member, Mr. Asshole coming towards the rest of us. Upon sighting him making his way through the crowd, I instantly felt a way (Now that I think about it, it was probably anxiety). Like “Oh great, Mr. Asshole is here.’ He however didn’t come towards us, but strategically circled us and placed himself further into corner of the crew bar. Behind us. I tried to ignore it, but my body had begun to act strange. He was out of sight but surely not out of mind, and that was the problem. A headache grew rapidly, and my arms and legs began to tingle. I turned around and found him staring at me with a smirk on his face, and a drink in his hand.
Then it had begun. A voice in my head saying “Leave now. Go back to your cabin!”
With a now pounding headache, and almost difficulty to breathe, because asthma decided to join the party, I was slow to react. The voice got louder, over the blasting music from the band playing and the chattering of the crowd. “Get out! Go to your cabin.” I began to feel my heart through my chest, pounding heavily and I must have shown signs of distress because looking across to the crew bar again, my friend K, was looking at me with an expression that asked, “are you ok?”
The voice was now piercing. “GET OUT!!” I had then pointed to the ceiling to signal “upstairs’ and he had cocked his head to the side. I did not have the time to explain. I knew I had to move. Quickly, I bolted for the door. I had to weave through the crowd in the now packed crew bar, but I made it to the door and flew upstairs. Having finally gotten accustomed to the ship, I effortlessly made my way to the staircase outside of the cabin where K and I usually sat and talked for hours and found him there waiting for me, with my bottle of blended herbs too! There are many shortcuts on a ship and depending on your department, you’re going to know all of them.
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‘Wah happen dere gyol?” (What’s going on?) he asked in his Grenadian accent. “I see yuh boy chasing yuh.” I shook my head in disgust but was happy I had a witness to what I felt was happening. God really do send you the right people. I had told him how I instantly started to feel strange the moment I could no longer see Mr. Asshole and how my mind would not let me stay in that room. He then told me that he had seen him make his way to stand behind me when I went to the other band members. “You see everything from the bar.” After speaking for a while, I decided to retreat to my cabin and thanked K for his kindness and concern. While preparing for bed, I heard the voice again “Well done.
I fell silent in awe that I was actively being guided. That being in that little corner of the crew bar, with not much light, and that psycho standing behind me looking like a serial killer wasn’t the best place to be, and so alarms went off in my head. I was proud of myself for listening and acting on it. I may have saved myself from what could have been a very uncomfortable situation. It was one of the first times that I remembered clearly, getting messages in and actual speaking voice. I prayed for a good minute and thanked God for protecting me. Needless to say, I soon left the band and went on my solo career. Always divinely guided, protected and always grateful.
Sincerely, A Woke Island Girl.
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The Actual Passion Fruit Tree. Bagatelle, Barbados. This one stuck with me. Everything truly happens at its own perfect time. Had this happened any earlier, when my understanding of life and the events therein was limited, I would have simply brushed it off as a coincidence. The more I learn and understand, the more my experiences are shaped, as if to reinforce the lesson that life has taught me, or is trying to teach me.
I am writing this on a Caribbean Island where many different fruits are aplenty. It’s 2020 and Covid_19 isn’t quite done with the world yet. This island is not where I am from and so I am still getting used to the availability of what types are grown here, and when and where they are available. On the island where I grew up, I have always had access to many fruits as we grow them on our land. Wherever I am in the world, you can surely find me buying fruit.
My workload has been heavy for the past few weeks and my body reacts to stress by craving “comfort situations” to establish some sort of familiarity or normalcy.
It comes in various forms. It could be through food. I resort to cooking foods that my grandmother or mother did, sometimes having to travel with some of the ingredients just to ensure that I can have them when I need them. Cacao Tea (Natural Hot Chocolate) is one of my favorites without a doubt. (See my Blog on this).
It can also be by wearing specific clothing. when I am extremely stressed, wearing certain clothes that I carry with me all the time, that I have had for years, brings about a calm and soothe to me. Some of my necessary pieces are from my late Grandma. They still smell like her and floods my heart with love.
The vibe of the environment usually goes hand in hand with what other efforts that I make. Listening to the local radio station of my island, hearing familiar voices of the presenters, and listening to a few good songs almost always does the trick. My comfort situations are tied to memories of home, and so calling up someone that I could speak in creole with, or just speak on things that we both identify with and understand brings about a form of grounding that keeps me going through the next day, week or month if needed.
During my stressful period of work, somewhat confined to this new island until the quota had been met, with my skin breaking out, very little sleep, a disappointing relapse into hair pulling and lip picking, I suddenly began craving Passion Fruits. It was very strong and so I began searching for them. I found Passionfruit juice in boxes. Processed and packaged. My mind and body instantly rejected it. You see, back on my island, we grew our own passion fruits and made the juice ourselves.
Search all I would, I could not find them how I wanted them. Fresh. Not in juice form, processed or anything. I kept saying over and over, as the days flew by and my workload got even crazier, “I want passion fruits, and though I may not see them now, I see myself drinking a nice homemade glass”. If course listening to Florence Scovel Shinn had a massive impact on my perception of life and reality.
I had been renting a house for about 8 weeks and hardly ever ventured into the yard for three reasons. One because I did not have the time. Two, because there was usually a troop of Green Monkeys attacking the mango tree therein, and I had learnt through past experiences that they can be quite feisty. Three, because I could not find someone to cut the tall grass. The area that I lived in was also one that rained a lot, which meant that the grass was not just tall, it was also wet.
When I finally did find someone to come cut, bag, and take away the grass, I discovered a rather low hanging clothing line. It was hidden in a yellow flower hedge that was not properly trimmed, and so along with the previous tall grass, surely would not be seen. I was delighted because my house did not come equipped with a dryer and the clothes rack that came with the house was small. Seeing that there were multiple occupants, that clothes rack was almost never available.
I decided to try out the line in the yard the next time I washed. A few repairs had to be made to the line so that it was lifted higher off of the ground and I did not wish my clean clothes to drag, so I went to it that very day and sort-of fixed it. It was obviously not used in quite some time.
About a week later, while I was hanging out the clothes on the line for the first time, I had to brush off quite a few dried vines that had grown along it and thought nothing of them at the time. They were wrapped around it tightly and so it took me a few minutes to unwind some of them, and finally get the job done. I cleared them all away and successfully hung up the clothes.
The vines however, for some reason, stayed on my mind for about three hours while I tried to work before I finally figured it out.
When I did, I ran out of the house past my bewildered partner, and the other people from our team who were in the house at that time shouting “Passion Fruit Vines!” I ran straight to the hedge, and lo and behold, there were passion fruits in full bloom tucked away on the underside of the untrimmed hedge. Because they are yellow, like the flowers in the bush, I must have seen those that had fallen to the ground, but thought they were flowers from afar.
I gathered as many as I could and headed to the kitchen to make myself a tall glass of homemade passion Fruit juice. I was so happy. I drank to my heart’s content and shared with everyone around. It was a first taste for a couple of them, and the first time actually seeing the fruit raw and unprocessed. Later that night I laughed like a psycho to myself, thanking the Universe for giving me just what I needed. I marveled at how close they were to me all this time.
Though I could not see them, something told me to keep the faith. To ask knowing that I would receive. I did not know how and when, but I trusted in the way I learned that life works and knew I would be eventually blessed with what I wanted. I began reciting “God is truly my supply” for the rest of that night and well into the next week. Needless to say, a few more manifestations came into play, but that’s another blog. Whenever my partner and I talk about it, he recalls how excited I was, and how great the juice tasted. He was at the time, was being introduced to the many pros and cons of island living, and was happy to witness the creation of some spectacular homemade Passion Fruit juice.
I have spoken the word for many things in my life, and finding those passion fruits was my sign of land. I now have stronger faith that the bigger things asked for, are already on their way to me, and may just be closer than I think.
Thank You Infinite Spirit and thank you Florence Scovel Shinn. 😊
Sincerely a Faithful Island Girl.
Story Mwen To Tell (My Story To Tell) 