This is a long-ish post that's been brewing for the better part of 9 months, so bear with me guys. By the time you've read this, however, my precious little son, fresh out of his own 9 month sojourn, would have just experienced his first week of life.

We call him The Conquering Lyon and he seems to like it - Rasta folk or reggae music fans should get the reference...

From his incredibly tiny fingers to his sweet button nose, everything about Lyon is perfect in our eyes. I am supremely humbled to be his mum and thankful that my goodly hubby and I were chosen to guide his journey through this life; it's corny, but words can't begin to convey the overwhelming feeling of love you instantly have for your perfect little child. Perfection, however, is furthest from my mind when I reflect upon my actual pregnancy as a West Indian having a childbirth experience in the US.

Coming from Trinidad & Tobago, where having a child is less of a life-changing event or medical condition, and more of a normal bodily function not unlike having one's menstrual cycle or a bowel movement, I was beyond horrified upon learning how childbirth is dealt with in the US from both a cultural and medical standpoint. 

Frankly, I disliked being pregnant in America.

North Carolina's a lovely place for mountain biking and for camping on the Blue Mountains. And America in general has lots of fantastic aspects to it. For one, I'm quite grateful for the high calibre of tertiary education I was able to pursue whilst living here. But is this the place for having a child?

I don't think so.

From the very moment my pregnancy was confirmed in the doctor's office to mere weeks before I gave birth, I found myself in battle mode, fighting off the many unnecessary medical interventions that are routinely dished out to expectant women during the course of a normal, low-risk pregnancy as my own. One understands the need for doing the usual checkups to ensure the wellbeing of both the mother and growing child. And one certainly understands the cultural need for reiterating the many risks and concerns involved with the process of having a baby. 

Still, is it really necessary to inundate a mother with multiple cervical exams, foetal growth screening tests, non-stress tests, extra ultrasounds and doppler scans, flu shots, group-b-strep tests, penicillin during labour for mother & child in the event of a positive group-b test, preeclampsia screenings, Pitocin inductions, membrane sweeps, hepatitis-b injections to the newborn, and RhoGam shots? In some instances these protocols may certainly save lives, but surely, that doesn't mean they should be upheld as standard measures for all births. And is it really in the best interest of the mother and child to be pushing for a C-Section at the slightest indication of anything that falls outside the incredibly narrow margin of US statistical normalcy? 

Not to mention the ridiculous timeline of events that one is supposed to strictly adhere to. If you're in a 30 week exam with a growing tummy that doesn't measure exactly as it should for that week, you could easily find yourself being diagnosed with one of many 'serious' pregnancy conditions as you're carted down the road to an early induction and major abdominal surgery. For the safety of the child, of course. And you'd better hope that once you deliver said child, he/she doesn't run a fever before hitting the 3 month mark, because then it's 48 hours in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit for multiple blood tests, urine tests and a full spinal tap with administered antibiotics.

On an infant.

Just to rule out the scant possibility of the fever being due to 'something more serious.' 

Needless to say, I found myself at odds with many a member of the medical and birthing establishment during the course of my pregnancy. And those birthing gurus who try to help you through your pregnancy by scrutinizing and overanalyzing each aspect of a normal human condition in the name of birthing education? For all their crunchy granola gusto, they're no better than the medical doctors they despise.

My thinking is this: humans have been birthing their offspring for eons without a need for labour coaches, medical interventions, birthing soundtracks and all the complicated hoopla that goes into having a child in the supposedly civilized, First-World.

So why should I buck a trend that's been working forever?

In my quest to grow and deliver my child in a most natural fashion, and in an unhurried manner not unlike the way my sisters, cousins and I were calmly delivered back home in Trinidad, I've made a few observations that I'd like to share. That is, if you're planning to have a kiddo and want to do so, on your own terms...

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Whenever the weather cooperates and it's a bright Sunday, I get the vibe to paint.

Which is exactly why I knew I was never going to be a serious artist; one can't work only when one 'gets the vibe.' And although I had convinced myself during my Cambridge A'level Art days that painting was my calling (how naive!) I've since been content to whip out a canvas on random occasions. 

It makes for a perfect way to unwind, but it also means that I often have a few unfinished pieces hanging around the place, just waiting for the next vibe to prod me into completing them.  

The piece above, Nothingness #2, suffered such a fate for a good two years.

Its earlier incarnation, #1, started out quite differently on - you guessed it - a bright Sunday afternoon. It was winter and I was missing the Trinidadian North Coast beaches, so I decided to paint a muted, sandy horizon; took me about four hours to paint 3/4 of the canvas before I completely lost the artsy vibe. 

Then the canvas went into storage for months on end. On occasions, I even hung it, unfinished, on my living room wall, and at other times it simmered in a dank corner like a cesspool of shame. Until today when the temperatures hit an unseasonable high and it felt like the right time to finish it, once and for all. 

I repainted the entire thing and didn't even realize I was changing the saturated Caribbean seascape into a still, frigid ocean of sorts; perhaps I've been unconsciously scarred by the last few weeks of bitterly cold weather?

Whatever the case, at least I can cross one thing off my incomplete list and there's still time to enjoy the remnants of a 75 °F winter day. 

Not bad for a lackadaisical painter, eh?

 

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With a full year of deliberations behind me, I've finally decided to fill my spectacles prescription with Warby Parker. Why did it take so long to simply choose a pair and get on with it?

Well, after three takes at their Home Try-On, I sampled everything from their Miles Davis-esque specs to the nerdy, round versions and nothing seemed to fit; quite a few made me look bug-eyed and others simply didn't work.

That is, until I stumbled upon this tortoise-styled pair

And I know exactly why I gravitated towards this one: it reminds me of the very first glasses I ever wore, way back when I was about eight years old. 

Funds were quite tight in my childhood household - a euphemism, if ever there was one. The only way I was getting a much-needed pair of glasses was via the Port-of-Spain chapter of the Rotary Club's charity eyewear drive, aka, I was in the market for any hand-me-down spectacles I could get.

Which was all well and good, until I saw the actual pair of glasses I was to receive. It was very reminiscent of the one above, albeit with a tad more 'girth' to it; the frames damn near swallowed my entire face. To be frank, it looked like a mottled old man's spectacles that had seen better days. And my eight year old self was definitely not into it.

However, being quite desperate for a pair (and as I wasn't about to kick a gift horse in its mouth) we had the frames adjusted and I wore it until mum could save up enough to get me a more age-appropriate version. 

Fast forward to adulthood. Life has thrown me a rather ironic loop because I've been hunting around for anything similar to those old-man spectacles ever since. Just goes to show you how the most unlikely things can influence you, eh?

This is the closest I've gotten to the hand-me-down pair and although the vintage style still swallows my face a bit, I'm finally loving the look...

 

Wearing: American Apparel jersey scarf as a head-wrap; Sisley knit turtleneck; MAC Russian Red lipstick.

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Late last year, Nowness shared an inspiring interview featuring the publisher, Luis Venegas. Working mainly as a one-man team to produce three highly coveted, limited-edition glossies - Fanzine137, EY! Magateen and Candy - the largely self-taught Spaniard gushed about his love of magazines and how perusing his vast collection over the years influenced him to eventually produce his own publications.

Seeing him rifle through faded magazines as he talked about his own titles made me realize I'm not that crazy for doing the same thing.

I've only published one limited-run issue of the Au Courant Volumes thus far, but I've been quietly working on two other fashion magazines in a singular approach similar to Venegas' and I often wonder, "who the hell just wakes up one day and decides to become a publisher, simply because they adore magazines and books?!"

For my own part, I just love poring over a good magazine.

Not the disposable, commercial fare sold at grocery checkouts, but the weightier, more impenetrable issues from Acne Paper, Tank, Industrie and the like. There's just something extremely gratifying about rereading a magazine and being able to discover impressive things each time you open its pages - be it the typography, a long-form article or an unusual image. 

My collection of favourite magazines isn't that deep - I'm missing quite a few issues of Acne Paper and The Gentlewoman's first issue is proving rather difficult to hunt down - but I believe I'm amassing something special here. A set that, decades from now, I'll fall in love with over and over again.

PS - I highly recommend that you start reading/collecting Herself magazine. The dedication of its two-man team in creating a fully illustrated, high-end fashion glossy is beyond impressive...

 

NB Images Copyright © 2013 Au Courant Studio, LLC, All Rights Reserved

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