Hello lovelies — you know I love sharing stories here. I’ve written about my first pregnancy, a blissful second trimester, an exhausting third trimester, and the heartbreak of a miscarriage. I’ve also shared how I birthed my second daughter. Now it’s time to tell you about my latest pregnancy journey.
Getting pregnant while caring for two toddlers was incredibly challenging, especially with persistent morning sickness. There were days I would lie down in my room while the kids ran wild in theirs, scattering toys and making noise. I’d lie there listening to their jubilant shouts as they enjoyed being free to do “woreva,” and then I’d have to clean up the aftermath to prepare for the next round of chaos.
The midwife prescribed something that helped curb the vomiting, but the medication brought on severe headaches and dizziness. It fixed one problem and created two more — a reminder that every remedy can come with a cost.
Cravings were a big part of this pregnancy. I longed for the exact cornchaff — corn and beans porridge — my aunt had served in Cameroon before we moved. I wanted that exact pot, not a similar version or the same dish cooked elsewhere. I also developed a desperate craving for Nigerian jollof that was slightly burnt during cooking. I was so determined I almost befriended a stranger just so she could make that exact burnt jollof for me.
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| The beginning of belle |
There was one afternoon I got very upset with Mr N because he bought the hamburger I’d asked for, but stopped to do some shopping before coming home. By the time he arrived, the burger was cold and I nearly cried. Hormones and hunger are an intense combination.
At a point I had to pause blogging because juggling everything felt overwhelming. Overall, this pregnancy was full of surprises — intriguing, sometimes joyful, and at times downright frustrating.
The months flew by and my due date approached. In previous pregnancies my babies arrived early, so I expected the same. I packed and re-packed my hospital bags and convinced myself the baby would come before January 1st. When that date passed with no labor, I was irritated. Calls from family and friends asking if the baby had arrived only made me more impatient.
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| Me and my humongous tummy by the baby’s crib all set up |
Twice I went to the hospital only to be sent home with a diagnosis of false labor. The first time I thought my waters had broken, like in my first labor, but after several hours and tests I was discharged. The second visit turned out to be another false alarm. I went home disappointed, still very pregnant and feeling enormous.
Three days after my due date, the baby finally arrived. Giving birth in America felt different from having a baby back home, and I plan to share those differences in my next pregnancy diary.
Until then, stay sweet!