What is it like to be a Black woman having babies in America?

 

What is it like to be a Black woman having babies in America?

It is a beautiful thing to be a Black woman having babies. That will always be, but the fear and obstacles we face certainly need to change. If you look at statistics, one might boast of resiliency running through our veins. Not me though. The most vulnerable experiences in our lives shouldn’t be penned with trauma. It should be sacred and supported. We should feel clothed in love and protection. I want to help you feel that.

This question has taken up space in my mind the past couple months. I decided the best way to answer would be addressing my daughters.

We welcomed another baby girl in late May. I took the path of home birth. My first home birth, fourth unmedicated birth, and my sixth pregnancy. So, I feel like I have a range of encouragement, but I don’t speak for all Black mothers.

I believe research is imperative when it comes to childbearing, but especially for Black mothers. We cannot blindly rely on providers. Statistics can be dispiriting, so prepare your heart before you dive in. I have cried many nights aching and mourning Black mothers whose stories should have gone a different way. Yet, I find comfort in knowing ways to prepare and things to look out for that have shown to be of greater risk in Black women. Preeclampsia for example is something to be versed in.

Discernment is very real. Nobody knows better than you do how you’re feeling in your body. I have changed providers for trying to undermine my concerns. I’ve even changed providers for being excessively late to an appointment. You are not thoughtless or dramatic.

The support you have during this time is probably the most important in life. That goes for the provider you choose and the community holding you. I fear we all know how society loves to rip joy from Black women like no other group of people. Choose your people wisely. The provider works for you. Figure out the care you would like and don’t settle for anything less. The decisions you make for your body and child now last a lifetime. Don’t let anyone pressure you into them. (If I can nudge you to consider a midwife though, I have found them to give exceptional, personalized care.)

If you feel most comfortable with Black providers and caregivers do that. There are just some fibers of culture that nobody gets like we get. That can bring great comfort. I had a Black postpartum nurse after my first baby. She took care of me like I was family. I didn’t know women with PCOS can tend to have milk supply struggles. She saw that in my chart and got me pumping right away. We fed my son colostrum with a syringe. She was a starting factor in why I went on to nurse him for nineteen months.

Black women are nine times more likely to be offered formula in hospital.

You need people around who want to build you up. “It takes a village to raise a child.” The village is vastly different for each of us. Prepare for that. Look into doulas, housekeepers, pre/postpartum therapists, babysitters, meal prep circles, lactation consultants, community groups. It doesn’t have to all fall on you. There will be people you can trust!

I have heard, “You don’t need a birth plan, because nothing goes exactly to plan.” Uh no. I have never heard of an Olympian who went in without a plan. If you would like a home birth or unmedicated birth it is of grave importance. When you don’t have a plan people start making decisions for you.

In preparation to have an unmedicated/home birth I prepared my body and mind. I can’t decide for you what is the best birth plan or place. I will say I felt safe at home. Laboring felt most peaceful at home.  I had a midwife and second midwife assisting. It was warm and intimate. There was no one pressuring progress or treating me like a bed turn.

Being a Black woman having babies means you will always be questioned and judged. It means you will have to be intentional and considerate in all things. It means you may encounter poor care and poorer spirits. I pray you’ll have the discernment and tools to know when. It means you will have to find safe spaces because Black women and children deserve softness. We deserve beauty and idyllic pregnancies and births. We deserve to not let fears birthed from others fears get in the way of our dreams.

Be encouraged. It is a beautiful thing to be a Black woman having babies.

XO,