JamRocking in Paris VII- My new companions

I woke up this morning, hand on my belly, and for the first time, I felt bébé move across my skin. This wasn’t just one of those thumps or quick fluttering I’ve been feeling for the past month or so. No, this was a distinct touch, lasting maybe 5 to 6 seconds, under my palm; a distinct movement felt from my thumb to my index finger.

I’ve been lying day in and out eyes pierced to my round belly, watching it jump and shake here and there as bébé moves and turns. Today, this felt like a real connection, as our limbs touched despite my skin. The wonder of life! I am still having a hard time conceiving the idea of a little being growing inside of me: eating, sleeping, sucking its thumb, kicking and frolicking! Yes, the evidence is there. Several of them actually! From the moment I took the pregnancy test in our little bathroom and observed the pink line appear in the window. I had sat for what seemed like hours, staring at the test, disbelief, anxiety, excitement and happiness seeping through my pores. I remember getting up finally and calling out to Gee who was in the living room with a friend of ours. I’d pushed him into our bedroom, and given him the test. Poor thing didn’t know what was happening. And of course, men are always so slow!

Taking the test into his hands, he’d asked me what it was. I asked him to tell me what he saw in the little window. He replied simply that there was a red line, “’Y’a une ligne rouge, non?”

I nodded staring deep into his eyes. A smile twitching at the corner of my mouth, uncertainty and excitement had made my voice tremble, “It’s positive.”

He sat on the bed. “Positive?” Disbelief and confusion.

“Yes, je suis enceinte.” I sat beside him as his mouth gaped open. “I am pregnant.”

Neither of us knew how to react really. Too many emotions encircled us as we fell into each other’s arms. We smiled. We were pregnant.

It took Guillaume a couple days, maybe even weeks, for the verdict from the test to sink into his brain; for it to go from, ‘it’s a pink line’, to this means that ‘it’s positive’, to ‘Tessa is pregnant’ and finally to the fact that he was going to be a daddy. Men’s brain work that way. It’s why they are better at Maths. One plus one equals two. And a pink line plus a ‘plus sign’ equals baby. But like him, this was all still so surreal. A baby is far from a simple mathematical equation. It throws everything out of array and transforms thoughts, spaces, humours, appetites and not to mention bodies.

Our first OB trip at the Clinique Jeanne d’Arc would be the second confirming moment for us. After taking the test that night, the next day I’d hidden in a corridor at work, not wanting my office mates to overhear my conversation; I had to call my gynaecologist to inform her that I thought I was pregnant, knocked up, I had a bun in the oven, Guillaume had a little one that hit the jackpot! The assistant at the other end of the line finally understood what I was trying to say (often times when I am angry or excited my French becomes very poor) and started talking a mile a minute asking me if I had registered at a hospital, how far along was I, if I had taken a blood test, if I had a nursery in mind, health insurance, what was my blood group, etc., etc…

Stress rising in my shoes, I felt speckles of perspiration form under my shirt and sweater. “No, I haven’t done anything. I don’t know anything! I just took a test at home last night!”

“Would you like me to give you a list of hospitals near you?” She offers, hearing the distress in my voice. “You have to register at a hospital immediately if not you are going to have trouble finding somewhere to deliver.”

“WHAT?” My mind screams. I wanted to tell her, “Lady, I just took a test, I need some to time for this to sink in and you are already talking to me about delivery?” Instead I thanked her and scribbled down the 5 or ­ 6 hospitals she gave me, telling me that one had to register early in Paris and that normally I would have to choose a gynaecologist/obstetrician at the hospital where I’ll register. She ended the conversation telling me that I should go to a medical centre and do a blood test in order to confirm the pregnancy and find out how far along I was.

Legs shaking, I had walked back to my desk, gathered my things and told my colleague that I was taking an early lunch. There was a medical centre right by my work place, so I decided to go right away. On the way, I phoned Gee to tell him that we had to find a clinic or hospital right away and that I was on my way to take a blood test. He assured me that he would see what he could do. That I shouldn’t worry. Worrying, voila a new companion affiliated with being pregnant and this would the first of my many new companions.

That evening when I got home, Gee had managed to find a list of hospitals on internet (how ever did we manage before without internet?) and that night we studied hospitals and clinics on www.topdesmaternites.com (Top Maternities dot com) and found the comments and suggestions from other moms and dads quite useful. We made an appointment at two or three of them. The first one listed as number one in Paris on the site was already full for November and with a waiting list from here to Jamaica! We made an appointment at the number two.

We arrived at our appointment at the Clinique Jeanne d'Arc ,number two place to deliver in Paris according to Top Maternity, expecting to meet the OB/GYN and visit the place. To our surprise and pleasure, this would be our first gift: pregnancy also brings a lot of unexpected gifts: people offering seats on the crowded metro and bus, free smiles, pleasant and easy conversation...

We’d walked into a clean well-lit clinic with rather pleasant nurses who ushered us to sit outside Dr. Arfi’s office. I remember feeling a little strange as Gee and I sat beside 2 or 3 other awaiting women who were clearly pregnant, bellies protruding. When it was finally our turn to see the Doc - at about midday instead of 11am (this is another very present pregnant companion - waiting for an hour or more at my OB/GYN) - we were met by a jovial dishevelled haired doctor who we immediately warmed up to, (our third companion to be consulted at least once a month for 9 months). This was a relief because we thought we would actually have to meet several doctors before finding the ‘perfect’ one. Immediately, he told us that he would have to examine me as if he were my gynaecologist and at the end of the consultation, we would all decide whether we wanted to continue together. A little bit shocked, but ready to face the realities of pregnancy (I’d never been to a male gynaecologist before and this would be my third companion - lack of any shame or pride in shredding my clothes in front of complete strangers and opening myself to be examined) - I skimmed away my pride and settled a little uncomfortably onto the table. I am not sure whether it made it better or worse that Gee settled comfortably into a chair directly in front of my open legs, however I didn’t have the time to think as in one swift movement the Doc, thanks to his transducer, produced a beating dot on his monitor. And what a moment! He proudly presented to us our heart-throbbing 10mm baby.

This moment is hard to describe in words: a human-being was forming inside of me and it already had a heartbeat! This would be our first ‘real’ (scientific and visible) evidence, another confirmation that we were about to have a little one. This would be our first gift!

Of course the morning sickness, fickle emotions and appetite, slight, but present pains at the bottom of the abdomen and eventually the debut of a small bulge at my waist all fell in line. These all successively confirmed that I was with child, but how does one fully comprehend all the mechanics of creating, harbouring and delivering a baby? I have read many books, seen many pictures, held several newborns, however this all still remains surreal.

Not even the mighty kicks I receive all day long succeed in pulling me out of this dreamlike wonder of having a baby; they keep coming, accompanied by bulges here and there representing the head or the arms or the feet – yes there is a baby in there! I can feel it. Guillaume can feel it. It is confirmed, yet we remain in awe at every kick, every movement, every time we see our ultrasound images.

Disbelief and wonder remain our greatest companions.

JamRocking in Paris VI & 1/2- Reflections II

Soft thumping
Movements unseen
Felt in bubbles and swishes,
Internal murmurings and caresses.

Quick like lightening
Stretching and curling
Peaceful in this watery bliss
Internal murmurings and caresses.

Wrapped and protected
Cushioned by love
Permeating wide open palms
Reaching out and connecting,
Internal murmurings and caresses.

JamRocking in Paris VI- A real Thumbs Up!

Gee and I are at our Ob/Gyn for our second sonogram!! I am lying on my back, face screwed up as Doc slabs the extremely cold gel unto my belly. Gee settles into his chair as if ready for the movie to start, his eyes glued to the big screen up in front of us, indecisive he turns to stare at the little screen beside him, then he turns back to the big screen, like a little boy impatient and excited to see his favourite cartoon.

Lights! I lie back not knowing what to do with my arms as Doc rolls the thingy (transducer) over my belly. Camera, Gee continues to look back and forth, and back and forth! Action!

“Look at the big screen sweetie, I think you will see better.” I told my desperate husband, while knitting my hands on chest under my chin.

“Je vois rien ! I can’t see anything!” Gee insists, his eyes wide open staring at the big screen.

“Un petit instant, just a moment,” the Doc murmurs as he fiddles with his monitor. “And….here we go…”

Eyebrows furrowed, Gee and I stare at the black and white images appear on the screen, trying to discern our little baby. Little by little we make out a form, then hands and feet. Gee stands and approaches the screen, looking back at me once in a while to see whether I am seeing what he is seeing.

“Yes, my love, this is amazing!” I whisper to him.

Doc guides us from head to eyes and nose, buttocks and kidney, arms to feet.

“What big feet!” I joke to Gee, and Doc understanding English, musters up his skills and says, “Non, zay are not big, normal.”

Gee and I smile, awe, pleasure and anticipation flooding the tiny room. We could see our baby and everything is perfectly in place and normal. Inchallah!

This was not without a lot of fight on the part of the Doc, who was having a rather difficult time showing us each limb, each organ: our little one turned out to be a real mover and shaker! Gee and I look at each other and smile, knowingly!! This little one is already showing signs of his Daddy!! Can’t stay in one place!!!

The Doc apologises as he tries desperately to show us the heart. “And this is the hear-….um, wait a minute, here it is…um, and… wait….yes, here is the heart and we’ll listen to the heartbeat….um, where did it go?”

Poor Doc, this went on for some time. He looks at me, “Madame, your baby is moving a lot.”

“Yes, like father, like…baby!” I tell him.

Gee smiles mischievously and proudly. “C’est un vrai Chatagnon! A real Chatagnon, this one!”

After a couple minutes of sliding the transducer all over my belly, trying to figure out what position the baby was in, we finally got a couple seconds of heartbeat and a quick look at a face. It’s as if our little one was deciding when and how we could take a peek!

To our dismay, our little one, probably annoyed at the Doc for pushing and probing into its space, or maybe just simply wanting to reassure us, decided to give us a distinct sign. Only five months old in utero and already this little being is displaying its own character! With a "thumbs up", little Tee/Gee allowed us to snap a last photo clearly telling us: “Mi cool, man! Everyting alright! Tout baigne!”

Everyting IRIE!!

JamRocking in Paris V- Picking cherries

A trip to the Loire Valley, stately castles reclined in verdant and golden faraway lands of old, silhouetted by the Loire and styled by serious and dedicated makers of Chinon, Vouvray, Montlouis and Sancerre. Nestled in this garden backdrop, La Varenne sprawls its family history and secrets over 6 hectares; Venus, Nightshade and Ecu embody over 20 years of horse backing riding through La Fôret de Chez Baillou and oftentimes are the first to greet you grazing behind the fence that separates them from the tiny road that leads to the house. One neighbour in sight and a glimpse of his "welcome to Tonton Gervais’” sign (the one person with whom Guillaume spent many a childhood rowdy days, seated on his tractor, killing a variety of animals, from cows to rabbits and learning country songs such as “Ma petite Lochoise” – which he flattered us by singing at our wedding two years ago) and a flowery driveway that leads to a gravelled yard speckled with trees and flowers. In a semi circle layout, 5 cottages stand at the extremities of the yard and a main house that welcomes hidden wild cats, families of birds that nestle their young ones in an old pump at the entrance of the house and years and years of construction, transformation, and devotion.

La Varenne was once a big farm with many animals and stables, hard as it is to imagine. But Dad has spent many a weekend and many a holiday using his own hands, big manly and constructive hands, to better and modernise while preserving the rustic spirit of La Varenne. Knocking out a wall here and there, adding sun lights, an indoor swimming pool and many a faucet to each guest house, all 5 named after botany: Lilas (lilac), Glycine (wisteria), Althéa (althea), Laurier (laurel), Jasmin (jasmine) by Mum, the "inn-keeper." Mum is a woman who knows how to rally things up. She’s an actor, not a watcher and all her actions can be found in this little piece of the Garden of France. Together, Dad and Mum have constructed this magnifique nest for their children, grand-children and great-grand children.

It’s hard to imagine that Guillaume once played in this yard. Kicking football with his brother and sisters. This is where he broke his wrist falling off one of the horses; where Marie, his big sister rode her shiny new bike proudly and skilfully for the first time; where Abigail and Lucie, his younger sisters, shared their secrets and dreams of gallant princes who’d come take them away. This yard witnessed the art and technique of Guillaume and Martin, his big brother, entwining and testing their legs and fists in swift and agile movements of Karate.

Today, Marie’s three children, Claire (9), Clotide (7) and Antoine (4) play with Guillaume and me in this same yard, throwing Frisbee and beach ball whose rackets sport ‘Jamaica’ on each side. Martin’s 5 year old, Jeanne scurries to hug her cousins and Louis, 3, secretly hides snails in his pockets; Martin’s last one (for the moment), baby Marc, drools big blue eyes all over my shoulder, while his mother, Big Claire tries to pry the snails from her son’s pockets, her face conjured in repulsion and unwavering resolution as Louis screams and resists.

(Jeanne, Clo, little Claire, Louis & Antoine)

(Guillaume holding his god-son, Louis & Antoine)

Hard to imagine too, that this same place, where Mum’s brother, Tonton, reverently mows the lawn and Lucie sunbathes today, long pale legs basking in the sun, soaking in the sunny serenity of the countryside, far from the frustrations of university life in Paris and successfully imagining her dear sister and confidante, Abi though far away in Sudan, in the office of her NGO, actually lying beside her soaking in the pleasure of being at home; hard to imagine that our child will play here one day. This little person will scratch a knee, dream a dream, cry many a tears and laugh many a laughs.

In wild cherry trees, fingers nimbly picking and dropping skilfully into awaiting white bucket thoughtfully posed on the ground, I allow myself to be a child again. Thinking of nothing, other than picking red wild cherries so that Mum can make her famous clafoutis (cherry tart) Claire and Clo beside me, in a dedication that is far beyond their age, concentrate on their task at hand; just like they had a couple minutes earlier, while doing ‘yoga for pregnant women’ with me. Both Claire and Clo had been particularly resolute to accomplish each exercise though some positions brought a rush of blood to their little faces and tingly discomfort to their legs and arms as they stretched their bodies in peculiar positions. They’d concentrated on the soothing music like I told them and allowed their bodies to be set free during 45 minutes without a complaint. Now they stand side by side meditating the cherries, sunshine on their shoulders and glee in their eyes.

I allow myself to be their age once again, giggling as I retrieve my camera and started snapping photos, trying to trap this moment in each cherry, each leaf, each movement, and Claire laughs at me as I try to snap the cherries falling into the bucket.

JamRocking in Paris IV- reflections I

i don’t know where i am, where you are. i feel you, i think. i feel myself; i feel nothing. a touch so light, a feathery response; yet i am not convinced, that you are.

i dont know where to look to find you. sometimes all seems clear; sometimes not. not that i try my mightiest, just once in a while you occupy my mind all day.

i dont know where i am, where you are, what you'll be. how can i prepare for you? am i capable? am i robust enough? the pages of books present words, repeated over and over again, disclosing facts and advice. yet i remain confused.
I don’t know how to nurture you; feed you and embrace you. Take your hands and lead you.

I don’t know where i am, where we are. I feel you, i think. I feel you.

Sign my guestbook! Dites moi où vous êtes!

So I can really appreciate the different parts of the world, where you all can be found!!

JamRocking in Paris III & 1/2- About me: according to blogthings.com

I found some quizzes on the site of a fellow Parisian blogger, le blaquer and thought them quite interesting!!

Here are my results after taking some mini tests on blogthings.com (let me know what yours are!!):

1. I belong in London, so tell me what am I doing in Paris?

You Belong in London

A little old fashioned, and a little modern. A little traditional, and a little bit punk rock.A unique soul like you needs a city that offers everything.No wonder you and London will get along so well.

What city do you belong in? Take the test here: http://www.blogthings.com/whatcitydoyoubelonginquiz/


2. Example of what living in Paris has done to my English!!! Help!! lol

Your English Skills:

Grammar: 100%Punctuation: 80%Spelling: 80%Vocabulary: 20%

How is your English? Take the test here: http://www.blogthings.com/doesyourenglishcutthemustardquiz/


3. Show you what I eat: I'll tell you who I am !

You Are a Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich

You life your life in a free form, artistic style.You are incredibly creative and at times, quite messy.Deep down, you are a kid at heart. And you aren't afraid to express it. Your best friend: The Grilled Cheese Sandwich Your mortal enemy: The Club Sandwich

What sandwich are you? Take the test here: http://www.blogthings.com/whatkindofsandwichareyouquiz/



4. If I were an animal, I'd be :

You Would Be a Pet Bird

You're intelligent and witty, yet surprisingly low maintenance.You charm people easily, and they usually love you a lot more than you love them.You resent anyone who tries to own or control you. You refuse to be fenced in. Why you would make a great pet: You're very smart and entertaining Why you would make a bad pet: You're not interested in being anyone's pet! What you would love about being a bird: Flying, obviously What you would hate about being a bird: Being caged

What kind of pet would you be? Take the test here: http://www.blogthings.com/whatkindofpetwouldyoubequiz/


5. I am a mouthful!

What People Think of Your Mouth

People see you as both genuine and spontaneous.You really love life, and it shows. You are easy to get to know.You tend to have a wide circle of friends, and many different interests.While many people know you, no one can exactly figure you out.

What does your mouth say about you? Take the test here: http://www.blogthings.com/whatdoesyourmouthsayaboutyouquiz/

6. The real me? haha!

Your Power Color Is Lime Green

At Your Highest: You are adventurous, witty, and a visionary. At Your Lowest: You feel misunderstood, like you don't fit in. In Love: You have a tough exterior, but can be very dedicated. How You're Attractive: Your self-awareness and confidence lights up a room. Your Eternal Question: "What else do I need in my life?"

What's" Your Power Color? Take the test here: http://www.blogthings.com/whatsyourpowercolorquiz/


7. Do you want me to be your drug?

Your Personality Is Like Acid

A bit wacky, you're very difficult to predict.One moment you're in your own little happy universe...And the next, you're on a bad trip to your own personal hell!

What drug is your personality kike? Take the test here: http://www.blogthings.com/whatdrugisyourpersonalitylikequiz/