Jungle Baby

Don’t know if I’ve mentioned it, but we’ve gone for a jungle theme for the baby’s room, giant leafs and bamboo wallpaper – lots of green, a color I’ve been very drawn to while pregnant. I wanted to do a jungle theme because I’ve never been one for equating girls with pink and boys with blue, and I’m sure any offspring of mine, be they male or female, will have a tiger’s roar in them and a big bear’s beat. I was also inclined to go towards the jungle theme because Walt Disney’s The Jungle Book was, and to be honest probably still is, my favorite film.

My father took me to see the movie when I was four and at the end of the film everyone erupted in applause, everyone except for me. I was crying. My father, thinking I had enjoyed the movie was quite shocked by my tears and asked me why I was crying. I told him I was crying because I was so sad that it was over.

As this story comes from my father, I’m sure huge parts of it are exaggerated, but never the less, I love hearing it. Mowgli, Baloo, and even Shere Khan hold a special place in my heart. My mother also used to read me Rudyard Kipling’s Just So Stories, which furthered my love of jungle creatures big and small. In fact my parents are convinced the baby’s name is going to be Bagheera.

One of my favorite songs from The Jungle Book is My Own Home, the song the little village girl sings, enticing Mowgli out of the jungle away from his friends and into civilization to start a new life. It is by no means one of the more popular songs to come from this Disney movie, but it’s a song I have always sung to calm myself, one I would sing to kids I was babysitting, and one I am singing with as much clarity as I can muster to my growing belly.

So I guess you could say My Own Home is one of those songs that has followed me through life.

When I was in the hospital with appendicitis, before they were even sure that I had appendicitis, they booked me in for an ultra sound to rule out any other internal problems. I was scared and in a lot of pain, I had to be wheeled from the maternity ward to the ultra sound department – in too much pain to walk myself. The Frenchman and I sat there in the waiting room to be seen, trying not to think about what a potential operation could mean to me and our baby. He squeezed my hand, and just before we were called into the ultra sound room, a nurse walked by humming My Own Home. And then I knew. I didn’t say it out loud as it seemed too fragile an idea, but somewhere I knew that me and the little one inside me would be ok.

My own home, my own home
My own home, my own home

Father's hunting in the forest
Mother's cooking in the home
I must go to fetch the water
'Til the day that I'm grown
'Til I'm grown, 'til I'm grown
I must go to fetch the water
'Til the day that I'm grown

Then I will have a handsome husband
And a daughter of my own
And I'll send her to fetch the water
I'll be cooking in the home
Then I'll send her to fetch the water
I'll be cooking in the home