From the time my husband and I started dating, his professional path was something that I took honest consideration about, among other things. Not to be a brat, but as someone who was a student nurse myself once upon a time, I was intimately familiar with the curriculum, it’s demands and assumed (correctly) that students who study medicine had little time for much else.

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For most people, Covid 19 and the resulting work from home order sent parents into a tail spin. Even for people who work from home with older children, they’re used to being able to send that child off to school or daycare, even if it’s just for a few days a week. Me? I was working from home with a baby/toddler hanging off of me since I started my online gig in 2017.

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Her face scrunched as she expelled all the contents of her lungs. Her mouth wide, tears in her eyes, and the hanging, pink epiglottis danced violently at the back of her throat. Her stance said she was ready for war, but my mind said I was too as it raged and raced at the child before me. I understood her position, but I thought it no excuse. My temper flared. Hers sprouted wings and soared.

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2 Years Old

On October 13, 2018, my angel turned two years old. Can you believe it? How we got here so fast, I will never know. It’s a wonder I didn’t bawl like I did when she turned one. My beautiful, sweet, happy, smart child.

I am so proud of her. I walk around every day with a mountain of pride, singing “Shan’s womb R us.

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I posted a video on my Instagram teasing about a possible pregnancy some weeks ago. After a flurry of messages in my inbox, I came clean. I wasn’t (am not) pregnant at all. I’m under some duress from baby fever, but no, not pregnant.

Then ladies wanted to know why I looked like I was. My belly was still larger than a food baby. At one point during the day, my sister almost freaked out at how fast My abdomen was distending.

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This blog post is a mite different from anything I’ve shared on here. It’s darker, a piece of me I still actively sometimes struggle with. The other day I mentioned the effect a past experience had on me to a friend. She asked me a crucial question, during our conversation and I truly wanted to laugh. Not that the experience or the question was in any way humorous. It’s just that the question highlighted how little value the Jamaican culture places on mental health and well being. As a whole, the average Jamaican isn’t counselled following a traumatic experience. We simply ‘move on’ or learn to cope. Invariably, some of us better than others. (more…)

These last few weeks, watching Siobhán grow like a weed and immersing myself completely in the experience of being her mom, I’ve been hit with an unexpected conundrum, baby fever. I feel it wash through me everytime I look at my child, or see one younger than her. I look at her baby pictured wrought with nostalgia. More often than not, I look at my child playing alone and I think, ‘Oh lawd. She gonna grow alone? She nuh deserve that!’ (more…)