My third scrap book – Its not about me…

I am due in two months and suddenly, I feel like a star. I feel like hordes of people are flashing out their autographs for me to sign. Everyone is watching out that I do not miss a step, running around on my behalf—don’t I love this! Then I remember it’s all about somebody else—the baby. That is something I have had to come to terms with. What I want, feel, or need is all about the baby.

So when I arrived home late one evening, and had all the reasons to slip into my cool sheets because there was a black out, my usual missing-in-action appetite and no one to reprimand me, I yielded to my tired body’s bidding. ‘After all I’ll wake up early and make some heavy breakfast,’ l consoled myself. However, at 2.00 am, the guilt struck so hard that I had to get up. I had starved the baby! Quickly I threw away the covers and dashed to make some food for us.

Beholding bellies
It Is said, you see what you want to see. Should you want to see all the red in the street, you will spot the tiniest red—the one you would otherwise never notice. Try it. I am noticing every big belly on the street. I smile at their owners and they smile back. There is some definite understanding between us-babies!

Food friends
I just did some little shopping for the baby, and a friend was beside herself in laughter when she found out all the clothes I had bought were of 0-3 months size. She promised to take me shopping next time.

Lately they have all been concerned about my eating habits. One of them never tires from asking, ‘have you eaten? What have you eaten? Have you taken milk? Another offered to be getting for me healthy vegetables. Some lengths people are going for the baby!

One day a client friend asked how many weeks old we were. When I told her she bawled, ‘You are still very tiny! Are you eating?’

I am trying to say that eating has become a round song to my ears. Well, it is not always pleasant. However, when I remember it is from especially the ‘been theres’ and that it is about the baby, I rest my case and look for the next nutritious thing to bite.

Challenges
Getting out of bed: No more jumping after the alarm clock has snoozed too many times. I am now in the zone many road signs reading ‘DELICATE’, ‘CAREFUL’ or ‘CAUTION’. So at the first ring of the alarm, I start on my many steps procedure of waking up—lest I don’t make it for the day’s business because of injuries.
Forgetfulness: Has taken toll. My remedy has been a small notebook where I drop all my ‘must-dos’. Funny, many times I forget where I last kept it.

Sickness
It was around 3.00am when some crazy pain cut into my sleep. It was so bad I could not give it a deaf ear. My lower abdomen was behaving as if it was cramping its way out, and the place around my navel wanted nothing to touch it. That saw us in hospital an hour later, with my hubby, Jay wobbling with me from desk to desk. After four hour’s  wait at the hospital’s lounge, my diagnosis read UTI (urinary tract infection)—at least something common in expectant mothers. A scan that showed a tiny swelling whose room the baby had taken was making it complain. The good report is that the swelling is not malignant so some painkillers were good enough to quiet it.

However, somewhere within all these hospital procedures, sharp pains that came in intervals accosted me. Labour? ’I can’t afford that,’ I said and set into prayer gear as Jay alerted the doctor. Examinations took place while my eyes hardly left the doctor’s facial expressions. Sigh! It was not premature contractions.

Have you noticed I have not talked about the four-hour’s wait at the lounge. It was bad enough not to be revisited.

Fear factor
The hospital experience seems to have lodged itself at the back of my mind, giving me these pop-ups of the crazy pains striking again—with the worst in mind. ‘Ishindwe’. I throw that thought out as soon as it shows up and say, ‘I think I have watched too many movies.’ After that I ask God to take charge of my pregnancy everyday.

I used to enjoy speed, but not anymore. Every time I sense we are moving too fast, I can’t help but look at the speedometer and signal the person behind the wheel to keep it on the down-low. When I am not familiar with the driver, or when I feel I have told Jay that a bit too many times, I shut my eyes and slip into my security zone—prayer.

Debts
I receive a lot of care and attention from family, friends and even strangers. Sometimes, I feel like the baby owes a lot to all these nice people. I want to take care of all that so that she/he will not have to pay fare for everyone in the matatu every time she/he boards one, now that everyone was good to him/her while in mum’s womb. I want him/her to say, ‘Mum sorted all that out ’ Now, if you bump into me, expect something nice, even if it is just a smile.

END:PG30/10-11