Friend!
I hope the moms out there had a wonderful Mother’s Day. Happy Father’s Day to all the amazing daddies! Can you believe half the year has already flown by?
May was a month full of conversations that centered on motherhood & birth work, two spaces where I find great joy. My daughter & I went to Beyonce’s concert & had a time. Such a beautiful & empowering experience. Her visuals took us through her journey as an artist & mama. I loved seeing the excitement her children exude when they’re performing on stage beside her. My daughter grew up loving Beyonce, I couldn’t imagine sharing that moment & dancing for hours in the rain with anyone else.
The conversations that centered around motherhood have remained with me for the duration of the month. Mothers of older children, grandmothers & elders touched on their journeys through pregnancy & parenthood. Their birth stories still live vividly in their minds. There were stories of heartbreak, grief, fear, joy, power & growth. So much growth. It felt nice to be in conversation with parents of older children. Our lived experiences carry a different kind of wisdom now, shaped by time & clarity that deepened over the years. I wanted to share my first birth story & introduce you to my daughter, my firstborn, a beautiful human formerly known as Teacake.
Barefoot & Free
Since early childhood, I have been fascinated with reproductive health. I spent hours reading my mother’s copy of Our Bodies, Ourselves at five years old. Between us, I read every book my mom kept on her ‘forbidden’ shelf. Mommy was THEE Mrs. Parker back in my early days, she was heavy on body positivity, reproductive justice & anything that uplifted women & mothers. By extension, I was a liberated woman, too. I was the leader of the new school amongst my friends. Judy Blume was the bestie. I walked my friends through puberty & our first periods. I encouraged them to get familiar with the parts of their body that society deemed taboo. I was that pre-teen that sent my friends into the bathroom with a handheld mirror. They were going to learn about their magic conch shell whether they liked it or not. I imagined my stepping into pregnancy like royalty. I expected the red carpet to be rolled out for me. Growing a whole human for close to a year? Well, that deserves fanfare.
My First Pregnancy
I was in my last year of college when I found out I was pregnant. Maybe there was something in the water, many of my friends were pregnant too. My friends were deep in their pregnancies, I was one of the last to give birth. At the time I was a former party girl, a psych major, beginning to work on my master’s degree. After my positive pregnancy test, I changed majors to graduate sooner. Our college was located in an affluent town that was quite a distance from civilization. I received prenatal care in a fast-paced clinic, appointments were quick & interactions were limited. I planned to give birth in the local hospital I volunteered in. I became a Medicaid recipient, which limited the providers I could see, this statement will make sense later.
After my first prenatal appointment, I started my to-do-list, that never-ending list that seems to grow overnight. Our family’s projected income terrified me, I anticipated we would meet poverty guidelines. Sharing the news of my pregnancy with my mother terrified me more than our finances. I came from a strict background, pregnancy before 30 was grounds for being disowned. When I did share my news with my mother, we became estranged. I spent much of my pregnancy devastated over the deterioration of our relationship. In my final semester I took 21 credits & worked 3 jobs to get the hell out of college & prepare to stay home for one-year, my only non-negotiable.
Red Carpet Ready
My first two trimesters were golden. I loved being pregnant. I completely dodged morning sickness. I enjoyed my bigger bewbs, those midnight baby kicks, I looked forward to the evenings when I spent time with Teacake. I’d read to her, counted her movements, traced her little, tiny feet through my belly. Her presence helped me through my darkest days. I nicknamed by baby Teacake, a character in one of my favorite books, “Their Eyes Were Watching God” by Zora Neale Hurston.
By my third trimester, my hopes of that red carpet rolling out faded. My pregnant friends gave birth & moved to the city. My partner & I lived separately & quite a distance from one another. I missed his presence, especially during prenatal appointments. Seeing couples holding hands in the waiting room made me realize how lonely I felt. I was grateful for the Lamaze class we attended, it truly helped bring my partner & I together as parents. Lamaze was primarily about breathing techniques & leaning into our partners during labor. Medical interventions, informed consent, refusing treatment-wasn’t on the syllabus. We didn’t have the internet pumping pregnancy content into our brains daily. Hearing the lived experiences of the friends who travelled the path before us gave us direction. For many of us, that was enough.
Late into my third trimester, things began to shift. I was gaining weight rapidly, my body was noticeably swollen, breathing felt like a full-time job. I was scared. I can’t begin to explain how fear took over my body & mind. My providers didn’t take the time to listen to my concerns, I was encouraged to stop worrying. I tried, I truly did. But something deep down wouldn’t let me shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. I got a second & third opinion, paid out-of-pocket to see the same doctors my more affluent peers had access to. Each time, I was sent right back to my OB/GYN for follow-up. I went to the hospital more times than I can count. I was reassured my baby was fine each & every time. I started to feel invisible. My last clinic visit was the final straw. I had a massive headache, my blood pressure clocked in at 210/110. My doctor looked me straight in the eyes & told me to go home, prop up my legs & take some Tylenol. I packed my belongings that evening. I requested my medical records & transferred care closer to my new home, finally connecting with my partner.
The Real
I stopped trusting my body. I shuddered at the idea of surrender & trusting my motherly instincts. Surrender to what? It was hard to trust my gut when I couldn’t tell if it was instinct or just my anxiety dragging me down another rabbit hole.
And all the extra weight I gained left me looking like a Cabbage Patch Kid.
Labor
Being home with my partner made me feel so protected. I didn’t realize how much I needed that. I woke up to contractions within hours of arriving home. I gave birth in an unfamiliar hospital amongst unfamiliar faces. I still remember the OB/GYN that supported me, she was exactly the type of provider I wanted by my side. I was diagnosed with pre-eclampsia within the first hour of admission. My doctor apologized for the prenatal care I received in the clinic. She also shared that my body was under too much stress to endure a lengthy labor. My doctor augmented labor in hopes of delivering within 24 hours. If I didn’t deliver within that timeframe, I would be taken to the OR for a c-section.
My labor lasted 17 hours. I spent 14 hours in bed on Pitocin & IV Magnesium. Lamaze didn’t give us the heads up that once your tush hit the bed, you stayed in bed. Movement was a no-for everyone. The birthing tub that sat in the corner of the bathroom was just for decoration.
Being in bed made contractions a bit more difficult to navigate. No one shared that being on Pitocin would intensify contractions & I’m glad they didn’t. I didn’t find surrender in the middle of a visualized garden of fragrant flowers or yoga poses. I found surrender when I was scared out of my mind. I silenced my brain, closed my eyes & followed my mind to laborland, far from the beeping machines tethered to my body & far away from the woman next door screaming for Jesus.
Halfway through the 16th hour, I accepted the epidural I wanted to avoid. I drifted off to sleep for 15 blissful minutes, waking up to my body bearing down. Ten minutes later, my daughter was born.
It’s A Girl!
My 6lb 15-ounce Teacake was a beautiful, healthy little girl born at 41 6/7 weeks. It felt so good to hold her against my body. She’s real! Her smell. Her tiny little fingers & toes. Her bottom lip pout. She was adorned in a halo of dark curly hair.
In love. Absolutely head over heels, in love.
I also had a 25-minute epidural :)
At the end of my pregnancy, I weighed in at 210 pounds, gaining a total of 95 pounds over the course of my pregnancy.
After Birth
The way society tells it, giving birth changes your life drastically. That notion worried me. There were challenging moments, moments I felt like a failure. I didn’t know how to change diapers, hold a newborn, feed or dress my baby. But just like learning to ride a bike, I figured it out, wobbly at first, but I got there. We got there together. All three of us were learning & transitioning. Life began to get better as I found my confidence. As with anything in life, it just took time. Birth wasn’t the end, it was the start of a lifelong journey of discovering myself & my daughter. I stepped into womanhood with my daughter right by my side.
After birth, I didn’t trust providers. I didn’t trust my body. It took time for me to repair both relationships. Fortunately, since then, I have been cared for by amazing providers that prioritize me. I trust my body. I have learned that it is trustworthy. It did its job during pregnancy by alerting me that something was wrong; it was my daughter’s first home. A reactive body can be uncomfortable, even terrifying. But its reactivity is sending a message, one that can save our life. That’s why being heard by our care providers is so important.
As parents, we are wisdom holders. A degree, certificate or license won’t begin to touch the amount of knowledge you’ll gain from parenthood. Our children teach us so much. We commit fully to their well-being & it’s important to always remember we are worthy of that same level of devotion.
My friends, my dear, sweet, wonderful, snarky friends. I don’t know where I would be without them. They were there when I stepped into motherhood, offering their presence & support. We gathered as we did when we navigated through the challenges of puberty. They celebrated me, they held the pieces of me together whenever I felt like I was falling apart. Special thanks to the friends that nicknamed me Professor Klump during pregnancy :|
We Are All Connected
After my birth, I went on to support my friends that became mothers after me. They in turn carried the torch with their friends. Our wisdom weaves itself into lessons that can’t be taught any other way. Being supported during the milestones & major moments of our lives is so damn necessary.
If you have made it to the end, thank you friend! I’ll be back next month with a very interesting topic! I hope to see you then :)
Wishing you a memorable June & happy summer solstice.