Hubby and the boys had arrived a week before me, so the Lion was completely daddystruck. This was fine by me! All the Lion wanted was “da-ey!” As soon as I arrived the mosquitoes began their feast. I was bitten several times a day, and they swole into glorious welts. We visited Aunty Carol and her grandson Akil, which Gadget loved! They are exactly one month apart in age, so I guess that makes them each others great godsons?? We visited Aunty Marjorie, Aunty Linda and Uncle Roland took us to the beach. Hubby has a huge family in Trinidad, made up of aunts, uncles and their children, so I loved the feeling of having more family than we could possibly see during the time we were there. So much family, and so much love. Annually, at the end of each trip to TNT hubby organizes a family get together, and at least fifty family members attend every time. I greatly look forward to this event every year. It’s like a mini-family reunion! This year we got together at Aunty Linda’s house, but more about that later.

We also visited one of hubby’s Aunts in the hospital. She had tended to the medical needs of others as a nurse her entire life, and now she was ill with renal failure. She entered the hospital and soon after her dialysis session, she was contracted a bacterial infection from the machine and passed away a few days later. He funeral was the day we left. Trinidad was also experiencing a drought, so everyone had purchased huge tanks and filled them so they had water when the city shut off the pipes. It rained the day of Aunty Earlin’s funeral, and in Trinidad they say good people receive rain on the day of their funeral.

On warmer note, I was so excited to share our good news of baby #3 with hubby’s family. As we saw folks, I proudly showcased my belly. This was baby #3′s first trip to Trinidad. Gadget and the Lion’s first trip to their father’s home country occurred in vitro as well. The baby went swimming at Macqueripe and Macaras Bay. I floated in the ocean for the first time at Macqueripe. I had never swam in such a salty body of water before!

The boys LOVED the beach. They ran up and down the shore, letting the waves gently push and shove them. Gadget professed that he only eats fruits and snacks, while the Lion tasted just about everything. Our vacation was going along fabulously!

It was on the Thursday morning of our trip that I woke up and I saw the spotting. Immediately I knew. I started calling my midwife here in the states, but she wasn’t on call, it was one of the doctors instead. It was 7:30 AM in the US, and the office didn’t open until 9. I left a message with the emergency line, and waited for the return call from the doctor. I left a message that I was in my 13th week of pregnancy and spotting. Half an hour later I had still not heard back and had the doctor paged again. I could not believe that doctors Nabil Khoury and Jacqueline Elyse Monaco-Bavaro at White Plains OB-GYN had not called me back yet! I never received the call-back, so at 9 AM state’s time I called the office. I explained as calmly as I could what my symptoms were, and asked to speak to the doctor. The receptionist told me to come right in, and as I explained that I was in TRINIDAD AND TOBAGO and could not come in, I wanted to speak to the doctor to obtain professional medical advice. I was also not very confident about going to the emergency room, because I had just learned that Aunty Earlin had received the bacterial infection! I called my former OB-GYN in New York for advice. As I explained my condition to the receptionist I began to sob because I couldn’t understand why I couldn’t get in touch with a doctor! They denied me medical advice and explained that because I was already under the medical care of another practice, they could not intervene. I called my widwife’s non-urgent line and left a voicemail explaining everything. I knew she would call back. Hubby called his father, who is a retired minister of some sorts (basically an important man with connections in the country), and he gave me the cell phone number of the one of the nation’s best OB’s. I called the number and the OB immediately answered his cell and made an appointment to see me the next day.

I explained to him about the brown spotting, and he said that it was old blood and not to worry. But of course I did. I worried because this pregnancy began just like my two miscarriages, and I felt as though I already knew what was in store. We had planned to go to the water park that day, but headed to beach for a day of relaxation instead. That evening when we returned I listened to the voicemail from my midwife saying not to worry as well. She repeated the same medical opinion as the OB in Trinidad, saying that it was old blood and not to worry. The next morning I found the same symptoms, but it seemed to decrease during the day, so my hopes began to rise. I ferociously searched the internet for stories of spotting in the thirteenth week that had positive outcomes. All the stories I found had happy endings. Spotting happened as the uterus lifted out of the pelvis and into the abdomen. Yay! I was very hopeful, but waiting in limbo was hard. Was I still pregnant and progressing or not? We headed to the private OB’s office. Of course you know what a small world we live in. Turns out the doctor was hubby’s college roommate’s father. I didn’t know what to expect at the appointment. Would his office have an ultrasound machine? Would he examine me?

The nurse brought me back and asked me a few basic questions. She took my blood pressure and weight, and then told me to go in and see the doctor. Hubby joined me, and the doctor began drilling us. I think he was curious to find out about his son’s old roommate, so he asked about our backgrounds, where did we go to school? What do we do now? How many kids do we have? Why do we have so many? Wait, how old are we? How many more do we plan to have? Have we ever heard of birth control?… So you can imagine at this point I realize that the spotting is a WAY bigger issue to me, than it is to him. Finally, he sends me back into the medical area and checks my cervix and brings over a sonogram to listen to the heartbeat. He rubs the jelly on my stomach (which in my head was beginning to look way too small for 13 weeks. I tried to remember how I looked with the Lion at this point, and I could have sworn my belly was more firm that the jiggly feeling my belly had- or was that just the rapid weight gain I had experienced so far? I digress). He moved the monitor over my pelvis and we heard the loud sounds of a heartbeat. My heartbeat. It was very loud, but I knew it was beating too slowly to be the pulse of my child. He moved the monitor all around and pressed down and patiently listened. He looked at me and then moved it all around until finally he concluded that he did not have good positioning. He performed an exam and was confident that my cervix was closed and all looked well. I left the office the same way I came in, unsure if I was still pregnant or not.

I pondered that thought all day and all night and into the next day. It was now the evening of the family gathering. Aunty Earlin has passed away in the middle of the night, and there was a somber feeling among the family. Had my baby died the same day as Aunty Earlin? Or was she just fine, swaying to the motion of my movements and would one day be surprised to hear about how paranoid I was. I was so excited to go see Ayanna and everyone else I hadn’t seen in over a year. There were sooo many relatives, and the Lion had only meet them once before. As soon as we got the party I started to feel crampy. Or was it in my head? I headed to the bathroom and confirmed the worst. There was bright red blood. I wanted to go home immediately. I wanted hubby to take me back to his mom’s house. I knew that I wasn’t going to be able to meet the family and have fun. I would be cramping and crying, and that doesn’t make for a fun evening. Aunty Linda gave me some Panadol (basically Tylenol) and told me to lay down in the bedroom with the air on. All the aunts stopped in one by one to say hi and send comforting words. Everyone was so positive, saying that I was okay, and to remain hopeful. But I was bleeding! I had so much looked forward to seeing the entire family, and as folks arrived I heard the noise pick up. The boys were running around with their cousins, and I believed I was miscarrying. The next morning our flight was to leave at 8. We arrived after 6 at the airport to learn that our flight was canceled, and that the next flight would depart four days later. FOUR DAYS LATER! There were huge storms in the northeast which had grounded several of the planes, and our plane never left New York. By the grace of God, we were booked on a flight leaving at 9 AM the next morning. We left the airport and called the doctor straight away. He called a private hospital and ultrasound technician and told us the technician would be there waiting for us. It was about an hour drive. Hubby had mentioned earlier that morning there had to have been a reason why our flight was canceled and here it was.

At the hospital we checked in, paid $50 and I was seen immediately. The technician must have come straight from church, based on the clothes she was wearing. She turned on the machine and asked me if I was bleeding, having cramps, and how far along was I. She moved the device over my belly and searched for signs of life. I could not see the screen and asked if she could she anything. I was afraid that maybe my body had re-adsorbed the tissue? She hoovered over a point and turned the monitor towards me. There she was, my baby girl. She was in a heap in the corner of my uterus, and she wasn’t moving. I starred very hard at the screen, trying to see the flickering of her heart, but I couldn’t find it. I don’t know why I was looking so hard. I could tell she looked just about the same size that she looked at the last appointment four weeks ago. She should have grown. Her head shouldn’t have been so big in proportion to the rest of her body. I looked at the screen, but I had not yet accepted the obvious. It was understandable from all that was happening to me physically, but I had not accepted the fact. I thought, maybe if I stare a little bit more I will see a flutter. Finally, the technician turned off the machine. An aid came behind the curtain, and started explaining that I was septic and would need a D&C. They wanted to admit me to the hospital. There was no way I was having surgery in Trinidad. I discharged myself against medical advice and we headed home. I told my body it was over and it was okay release. I was able to get in touch with my midwife, and she told me that she was sorry, and to look at my two boys in their awesome perfection. She told me that God had blessed me with them and that I was surrounded by family. She told me that it was not a health risk if I started cramping and bleeding while traveling, as she did not believe I was at risk for hemorrhaging. Almost immediately after I hung up the phone with her it began. I cramped and bleed and by that evening the worst had passed. The next morning I stalked up on painkillers and traveled safely back home to the states.

More happened on this trip than we ever imagined happening, but we were blessed. My midwife helped me more than she realized. Instead of looking at this as a loss, I looked at the beautiful gifts in Gadget and his brother. Hubby commented on how strong they must really be. Out of my five pregnancies, we have two beautiful boys and we are blessed and overflowing with abundance.

When we got married, I just assumed hubby automatically became a dual citizen of Trinidad and Tobago and the United States of America. Ha, ha… not so much. I am now very familiar with the immigration process. Hubby came to the states as a student, and therefore had an F1 visa. Once he began working fulltime, he then was sponsored by his employer for one year, and held an H1 visa.

While we were working before business school, I “petitioned” for hubby to become a permanent resident on the basis of our marriage. We filed lots of paperwork and paid hundreds of dollars in application and biometric fees. Hubby was fingerprinted, and then after a long looooong wait of several months, we finally had our interview. We brought in with us about three trees worth in timber in paper: marriage certificate, bank account statements, a copy of our mortgage, joint tax returns, utility bills, my birth certificate, my passport, his passport, passport style photos, a medical examination, selective service registration, Gadget’s birth certificate, photos of us together, and the list goes on! There were about three forms totaling well over one thousand dollars in application fees.

After the interview, we waited patiently for hubby’s green card to arrive. When it did, it was right on time because we were applying to MLT and you have to be a US resident to be considered a fellow. It was also perfect timing because hubby was eligible for the Consortium and Federal loans. After hubby had his green card for two years, we had to apply to have his “conditional” residency removed. This was because when you file on the basis of marriage, you have to prove you’re still married after two years. This meant another application, more paperwork, photocopies, certified copies, notaries and oh yeah, you must not forget, more money.

Once this stage was complete it was smooth sailing. Hubby could go and come as he pleased into the states without having to worry about any kind of visa. Somewhere along the line, we decided citizenship would be a great option for three reasons: 1) Hubby could sponsor his mom to become a permanent US resident. 2) He could vote to re-elect Obama, and 3) We would now meet the qualifications to apply for the Amazing Race.

So, several months ago, maybe in April, we applied for citizenship. This was another application, about $600, another biometric fee and fingerprinting. We quickly heard back and received the confirmation letter that his interview and test was for today. The test consisted of US history and economic questions, like name the first 13 states, who is your state representative, and who wrote the Declaration of Independence (I believe I would have failed).

Hubby and I stayed up late last night quizzing each other (well, really he was quizzing me because I was so fascinated by the questions). We drove the hour and a half drive to Hartford, CT this morning, equipped with an armful of documents proving our “marital union.” Hubby was called and he disappeared into a room in the Federal building. He emerged with yet another date, for his oath ceremony.

In case you thought the process was quick and easy, please think again. It is extremely costly and requires patience. Thankfully, hubby will soon be the rightful owner of a passport for the United States of America. Yay!

Today we visited our old home in Harlem to turn in our apartment keys. We planned to take the 9:45 AM metro north train into the city, but that was only going to be possible with some hustling. Amari ran down Washington boulevard to ensure we would make the train, and I followed close on his heel pushing Joshy in the stroller.

My dear, trini husband, however, casually strolled down the sidewalk with an ease as if he were sipping mint julep tea on a warm July evening. I, while running, picked up Amari and bustled past the crowd which had just exited the very train we were trying to board. We flew up the upstairs, onto the platform and jumping on the train which was calmly waiting for us on the platform.

The metro north is NOT the NYC subway, and their doors do not bounce open after you jam your foot in the way, as I found out while trying to hold the door for hubby. He was no where insight, and the boys and I couldn’t get off the train.

Oh well. The doors were shut and the train was moving. My iPhone was unconscious, and has been since Sunday, so there was no way to call hubby and make plans to meet up. A very nice passenger alerted the conductor since I was looking a bit agitated and flustered. The next thing I knew the train was stopping and the conductor was letting us off. Clearly, he knew better than to keep an upset black woman with two young kids on his train, so he kindly pried open the door.


As I peek onto the platform I saw hubby and yelled for him to hop on. Can you believe they stopped the train? I mean, it had pulled out of the station already. The metro north usually runs like clockwork, but for my hubby I am willing to stop trains.

So, we ran a billion and a half errands, and on the walk back along 125th street hubby snapped a photo of the Michael Jackson memorial. Bye bye, New York, and officially, Welcome Stamford!

Every night, after we have safely tucked in Amari to bed, the slew of excuses begin. They start off petty, “I need a hug, I didn’t kiss daddy.” They progress to action items for us, such as “Read it again,” or “I want my water!” The final string, and his most desparate, yet effective way to get out of bed is to say he has to go to the bathroom. He says he has to toots, and then sits on the toilet for five minutes, says its not coming down and then goes back to bed. This cycle repeats two or three times, until finally last night I heard myself say “toots or get off the pot!”

Eventually, he did NOT go to the bathroom- it was all a guise. He complained about monsters in his room and requested that the light stay on, and finally, finally stayed in his bed.