Tag Archives: creative

I Had a Son

I used to think having a baby boy was as bad as not having any babies. Over the years, I have come to embrace the idea of a being mother to a baby boy and even hope that my second will be a baby boy. This hope came from another one of my vivid dreams. This dream happened 5 years ago.

It was one of those busy dreams with a lot of running around and stress. I don’t recall most of the dream but the first bit I was aware of featured a heavily pregnant me in a room with several other women and in the first stages of labour. I remember being very hot and I was perspiring as the labour progressed and I got instructions on what to do. For some reason, no one in the room was in focus. I could not tell if my mama and my sister were amongst my birth attendants. I suspect there was at least one midwife. All I know is that I felt in control despite the alien event that was unfolding within my body.

Next thing, I was half-sitting, half-lying down with my legs in stirrups and pushing the baby out. It wasn’t real time…time seemed to be moving very fast as I watched myself going through the process. I felt a searing pain deep in my pelvis and I thought ‘I don’t think I can do this’. Then there was a more solid pain that threatened to break me in 2 and I looked down to see a baby. I blinked and the baby was clean and in my arms, all wrapped up in the softest cream-coloured blanket and a baby blue hat. I had a son.

As I held him, his dark brown eyes popped open and fixed on mine. As our eyes met, I felt a surge of love deep in the pelvis which he had just reluctantly exited. The only way I can describe the feeling is that of falling deeply and irrevocably in love. I felt the warmth of my love for this tiny boy spread out to every fibre of my being. It felt like the whole world fell away and the only thing I could see in its full glory was my son. The rest of the room was a blur. I could hear dimly conversation in the background but all I could make out was his breath sounds. My olfactory nerves jangled with the smell of him and even my taste buds tingled like I was gorging on the most delicious meal I had ever tasted. My skin prickled as if electrified and the hairs on it all stood on end. My muscles quivered. Tears dripped out of my eyes. I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. I felt like I was simultaneously floating on a cloud and being sucked towards the centre of the world. I was in free fall. I was in love.

The heat and pain were forgotten in that instant. My head emptied of all thought and all I could think was ‘here he is’. Like that was the moment that all the preceding days of my life had been leading to. Together with that love came the overwhelming urge to protect him from the big bad world. I shivered as the protective tigress in me snarled to life with a ferocity that scared me. In that instant as I gazed into his eyes, I felt love, pride and an irrational fear that he could be hurt. I knew then that I would love him more intensely that I had ever loved. That I would celebrate every achievement of his with a purer joy that any I had ever experienced. That I would feel his pain like it was mine. That I would move heaven and earth to ensure he was happy. That I would die to protect him.

I was frozen to the spot, staring into his unblinking eyes when I snapped awake. The power of my feelings stayed with me for the rest of the day. I felt exactly as the great romance writers describe being in love. I had butterflies fluttering in my tommy. The colours of the world seemed sharper, brighter and more intense than usual. The weather was perfect regardless of whether there was rain or sunshine. My creative juices were flowing. I had ideas coming out of my ears. I did not feel thirst or hunger. I just felt ridiculously happy and I walked around all day on a high, humming to myself and doing little dances when no one was looking. So, I thought, this is what so many mothers feel when they finally hold their long-awaited baby in their tired arms. What an incredible feeling! I only experienced it in a dream and the depth of the feeling was immense. It was like a high to end all highs (not that I know what an actual high feels like but I can imagine!). No wonder some women carry on popping out babies long after everyone thinks they should stop. No wonder there are women out there who admit to being addicted to being pregnant and giving birth to babies. All I can say is that I pray one day I will have this experience for real. Because it felt damn good. The best feeling ever!

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Girly Man

I listen to Ed & Rachel on Heart FM on my daily drive in to work (as I always do because it is the best programme on radio!). Yesterday’s morning’s phone-in was about celebrating the ‘girly’ things that our men do that we think are great. So that got me thinking and this blog was born. Before I do that, let me just say I do not actually think these things are girly. I think the things I will praise below are just nice, lovely, sensitive traits that are brilliant regardless of gender. It is just that because men have the wrong idea about what it is to be a man, these nice things are now feminised. So to the men in my life whose traits I will be praising, I want to reassure you that I am in no way questioning your manhood or masculinity. I am celebrating you in all you glory!

My granddad, he of the military ways, is the only man I know who always has lip balm with him and applies liberally. Also, he moisturises daily and I know this is still true because last time I went home, I decided not to take any moisturiser with me and the only place I could find some was in my granddad’s bathroom. He had several bottles of lovely stuff and my skin was happy throughout the holiday. More importantly, he has lovely moisturised skin, his diabetic feet are the most beautiful I have ever seen and he has none of the skin complications associated with diabetes and hypertension. Well done Baba!

My teenage cousin (Baby A if you have read my blog) is a very creative boy and one of his ‘hobbies’ is cooking. He can cook a 3 course meal and seems to enjoy it but what I was most impressed by is that he can cook the loveliest crepes (thin pancakes). Impressed not only that he can make them delicious, thin, round and unbroken but also that he uses reconstituted powdered milk and if I hadn’t know, I would never have guessed. He also gives lovely hugs and likes to sit and talk about the important things in his life. And when I am not in the same town as he is (which is most of the time these days), he will often say hi or good night or send me emoticon hugs randomly. Warms my heart I tell you.

My brother-in-law’s best ‘girly’ trait is that he celebrates his love for his family. When he and my sister moved into their home, he spent a considerable amount of time and money choosing and framing pictures of their close family members. And by their family, I mean his family and my family. Imagine my surprise when I found the loveliest framed photo of my mama’s in their bedroom and one of me with the pictures of his sisters in his study. Awwwh! The other thing is his ability to turn the volume up when his favourite music is on and dance around the kitchen without any inhibitions or when in the car, do a perfect imitation particularly when it’s a girl singer lol. Before he lived with my sister, I thought that was a girl thing. But apparently not, thank goodness!

There are lots of girl things that I have come across that I have loved and still love in the uncles and cousins, patients and friends too. I know a man who loves black nail polish and getting his nails done who has to hide his love for fear of people’s acid tongues. I know of a younger brother who buys the best hand bags for his sister who is my friend. I know of a cousin who when he was younger loved nothing better than to brush his mum’s gorgeous hair. I know several who love to be hugged just like I do.

Special mention to my dear husband though. I love so much about him but foremost are the girly traits that were like girl-magnet when it came to me. I think the seed of love was planted when he was honest about his feelings and that he let me see how vulnerable falling head over heels had made him. He loves my pink fluffy socks which even I find too girly to wear out and he is not shy to admit it either…he took them all the way to Nigeria when he went to ask for my hand in marriage. My poor sister got a shock when she spotted my socks peeking out beneath his trouser leg. George also has a onesie (I am not sure how to spell it but you know what it is when I say it is like a large baby grow/jumpsuit/overall). He insists that it absolutely is not girly but I beg to differ. On babies is where it should be. On girls, it is cute and could even be a sexy slouchy playsuit-type affair on a young lady. On a boy up to primary school level I could persuaded to see its merits but on a man old enough to shave and father children, I am in the ‘please no’ group. Dearest old George pretended that I could have the onesie when I shared my concerns but did I ever get to wear it? You know the answer to that. The onesie is a bit of a uniform these days and I have to actively order him not to wear it to restaurants or the cinema. He even turned up at the hospital I am currently working in wearing the onesie and asking for me. Oh the embarrassment! If I had known, I would not have owned up to being his wife.

So to my granddad (Baba), Baby A, George and all the unmentioned cousins/friends/little ones that have made my days with their ‘girly’ ways, I love you all and please embrace the girl in you. One love.