The Making of a Man
Dominique and Disney go together like open fire hydrants and kids in the summertime. There’s a catharsis that comes with watching the colors move through the screen, appreciating the unfolding message of the story, and of course, screaming, to the top of my lungs, the greatest songs of all time. As a Lion King fanatic, down to the Broadway soundtrack - that I consistently find my writing inspiration in - and with the exception of the 2019 remake👎🏾😢, you’d think my favorite Disney song would be found among Hakuna Matata and Can You Feel The Love Tonight, but ‘‘tis not.
If you have any desire to see me in my element, play I’ll Make A Man Out Of You from Mulan. I can’t tell you what it is about this song, but I can tell you I love a good metaphor and it’s chock-full of them. If you’ve never seen the movie, shame. Long story short, the song is telling lame-o men (and one woman) to be more manly so they can win a war. Well, my current war is named Black Motherhood. The lifelong battle is Raising a Black Man. So, even now, I find myself reading to my month old son college-level rhetoric on manhood that emphasizes a depth of maleness that never compromises integrity and gentlemanship for aggressive machoness. It’s already been an adventure making this little man and I found this song to be the perfect way to express the journey.
To be a man, you must be...
“swift as a coursing river...”
What is surely swift is the way my little boy can already move his head. You have to catch him mid head swing to keep him safe. My reflexes are trying to catch up. What was not swift was labor. 42 hours of unswiftness to be exact. A few weeks short of my due date, to add to the stress of the bi-weekly check-ups for the size of the mass, they diagnosed Honor with an inter-uterine growth restriction (IUGR). Basically, they said he was small for his age inside the womb, which comes with various possible complications ...that he showed no signs of 🙄(and by the way, had they not seen Kev and I🙃). This led to the doctors’ decision to induce at 38 weeks. When we got to the hospital on Sunday at 1:30, Nurse Esther told us we might be there for 2 or 3 days before the baby came, we both said “Yeah, right!” My vitals were checked. My cervix was closed. 4 PM. Pitocin - the drug that initiates labor contractions. 9 PM. Cervix still closed. 9:30 PM. Balloon catheter - a procedure that attempts to help you dilate; no exaggeration - it’s significantly worse than actually delivering the baby. I’m praised for my high pain tolerance. I roll my eyes. Monday. 5:30 AM. 3 centimeters. 1 PM. 3 centimeters. “We’re going to break your water. Would you like an epidural?” “YES!” 4 PM. Close contractions, that I don’t feel - Amen?! Lowered Pitocin. 10 PM. 3 centimeters. “WHAT?!” Doctors suggesting a possible Caesarean. Upped Pitocin. Tuesday. Esther was right😩. 1 AM. 9 centimeters. “YES!” 3 AM. Oops, 7 centimeters😡. Can you imagine? I can! 🙃 9 AM - PRESSURE!
“with all the force of a great typhoon...”
10 AM Tuesday July 2nd, 2019. Much pressure in a familiar, yet odd for the circumstance, place. I’d read that I would have to push from a weird place, but I feel like it’s a part of labor that should be mentioned 1000x during pregnancy. I’m sure there’s no real way to prepare for it, but I like to act like I wasn’t as confused as I was. #Lost🤣 We told the staff I was ready and they staffed up, okay?! With my husband by my side, as always, holding my hand and kissing my head, a fantastic nurse for a coach and a doctor I barely paid attention to other than when she told me my contractions were coming, Honor Zeni popped out at 10:57 AM. The 57 minutes went by like it was 15. My eyes were closed the entire time. I forgot about my epidural button, adrenaline kept me going, but I was mad about it after he was out! They asked me three times if I wanted to feel his head, I screamed “NO!” every time. I’m blessed to have had an effortless delivery. I wouldn’t describe it as the worst pain of my life in any way. I’d do it again, long labor and all, just to see another precious baby lay across my chest and watch my husband watch me with awe and wonder I’d never seen in anyone’s eyes.
“with all the strength of a raging tiger...”
They told us he might not live. He’s here. Then, they told us he might not breathe on his own. He came out quiet, but breathing, for sure. He graduated from the level 1 nicu on the day he was born. Then, they told us he’s too small. He was 5 lbs, 7 oz (I was 5 lbs 11 oz, by the way). Then they told us he won’t eat. Of course he wouldn’t eat, he was separated from his momma (there should be a resolution for nicu babies and moms with preeclampsia). But, guess who’s gained 2 1/2 pounds and grew 2 inches thoughhhhhhh! My boy! He’s a champ!
In the group I’m in on Facebook for parents of babies diagnosed with lung lesions, they acknowledge the strength of our babies and their fascinating resilience. But, God. He’s done a real work, over and over. I believe in miracles and I believe in Him. There’s no strength like His!
“mysterious as the dark side of the moon.”
I can’t figure out what’s more mysterious - babies or motherhood. We’re both launched into a new life. His from out of a dark, warm, squishy, loud room into a bright, cold, spacious, still loud world. Mine from selfishness and unrestricted freedom to complete selflessness and restricted freedom provided the availabilities of pumped breastmilk and Grandma’s schedule.
Honor’s mystery comes to us via facial expressions. We know he’s thinking something, and when it’s not “Hungry” or “Poop,” we’re actively trying to figure out what it is. Sometimes he sleeps for three hours and sometimes he sleeps for thirty minutes - the thirty minute thing almost always happens at night. He loves to stare at bland colored couch cushions, I can’t figure out why when he’s definitely attracted to orange walls, pink blankets, blue paintings and yellow pillows, he also chooses to find interest in an ugly green grey couch. He’s a great baby, very sweet, not fussy, super alert, you’d never know there was anything “wrong” with him.
I am just starting to feel a LITTLE sense of normalcy from the hormone rollercoaster. That and sleep deprivation have driven me to, begrudgingly, ask for help. I like to feel like I got it. After pregnancy, labor and delivery, you don’t “got it.” Even with the best of the best for support, you don’t “got it.” Even when you feel like you got it, you don’t “got it.” Layered with this is the mysterious balance between breastfeeding and pumping. If you so choose to feed via boob, amen, if you don’t, definitely amen. Formula fed babies sleep longer and don’t have to rely on you for food, so you possibly get more sleep and more freedom. I’m on the other side, where he needs my body or my body’s milk to live. It’s beautiful ...and restricting. Oh and then, then, there’s this new life consumed with unending thoughts about his life and this world I just had the nerve to bring him into. I try not to obsess over education and society, but I do. I realize that education is one of my idols and I pray he values it, but doesn’t trust it to provide the stability that only God can. I understand that society sucks right now, and it’s only getting worse, but I trust God to keep him, his eyes toward Heaven and his heart wrapped in His hands.
The world will inevitably try to tell him what it means to be a man. My job is to remind Honor that God made him; that our Lord chose to make a man who was clearly meant to be here. A made man understands that when the world tells him to be swift, he’s assured that all great things take time and patience. A man made is aware that when the world wants him to believe that any force will be greater than anything he’s ever felt, he knows that their standards are different than his. A made man acknowledges when the world tells him that he holds the power, he tells them that He holds the power. And, a made man sees when things in his life feel and are weird, wacky, and absolutely out of place and the air of mystery is complemented by the noise of the hood, horoscopes, frienimies, energies, bags, broads, the lifestyle and the vibes, he remembers “all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose;” He’ll make a man out of him.
God created man in His own image, in the image of God He created him. - Genesis 1:27
