Welcome to The New Classic, where the past and the present merge, to form a new future.
Once that no one can see coming...
Join Angelo, Vanessa and the rest of the gang three and a half long years after that fateful night.
Lo kept count. V didn't...
MOODLIST My Little Love - Adele Valé - Ibeyi Baptize (Interlude) - ChloexHalle Down - ChloexHalle Sunshine - Cleo Sol Heart Full of Love - Cleo Sol BIGGER - Beyoncé Love in Portofino - Dalida
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
My mom's refrain growing up was "Lawd'ammercy", pronounced just like that. Her Jamaican accent caused her to have an emphasis on some vowels and consonants, while dropping others. It was a habit I hadn't realised I picked up until I went to school and got picked on for adding 'H' where it wasn't required, and dropping it where it was.
Another thing I picked up from my mom was the use of her catchphrase itself. It's what went across my mind this morning, as I emerged from my slumber, feeling the foot of one child on my cheek, while another had their finger in my nose.
These children had come from my asymmetrical womb, via the traditional route, much to my joy, so technically, the stray body parts shouldn't have bothered me. And they didn't really, but I felt that it would have only been fair and gracious of my rambunctious children to leave my personal space during sleep as the last piece of dignity I had left.
My children. Mon Bébés. Mi pickney dem.
When V and I took those tests and only mine came back positive, the amount of emotion that flickered through my mind in the moment was enough to render me weak-kneed. We sat on the bathroom floor of that Parisian Apartment for hours.
And she held me down through everything.
The vomit that flew out of my mouth when I started really thinking about what this meant, the tears that took up residence in my eyes. The partial sentences, broken by intrusive thoughts that bubbled to the surface. I was a mess. Chaotic to say the least.
I knew my chances of conceiving weren't completely against my favour, but with the few times I did begrudgingly have sex with Ale before we left, I thought nothing of it. Between a condom and a missing Fallopian tube, the odds were slim to none, right?
Wrong, he knocked me up with fucking twins. Twins!
There was fear. Fear of having to raise a child, let alone two by myself. Fear of their father finding out about them and starting an ugly custody battle to force me to come back. Although my born family wasn't in my life, I was scared about disappointing them. I was married, but look at the state of affairs?
There was anxiety. About the decisions I had to make. Was keeping this pregnancy the right thing to do? Was I in a position to be the best mother I could possibly be? There were so many variables to consider. My mental health was only at the very beginning of retuning to a normal state, would it be fair to bring an innocent child into the mess that was my life?
Doubt in my ability and guilt about what this might mean for Vanessa and the plans she had also found me, paralysing me on that bathroom floor. In those hours, I simply thought I would cease to exist. I just didn't see a way forward, but Vanessa did.