As we celebrate Black Maternal Health Week, it's crucial to acknowledge that supporting improved maternal health outcomes for Black mothers is not merely a week-long endeavor—it's a continuous, year-round commitment.
As we celebrate Black Maternal Health Week, it's crucial to acknowledge that supporting improved maternal health outcomes for Black mothers is not merely a week-long endeavor—it's a continuous, year-round commitment.
Also known as chloasma or melasma gravidarum, pregnancy mask is a skin condition characterized by the development of brownish or grayish patches on the face, typically on the cheeks, forehead, nose, and upper lip. These patches are often irregular in shape and vary in size. Chloasma tends to affect melanated people at a higher rate.
A mucus plug is similar to vaginal discharge in consistency and makeup, but it’s much thicker, denser and there’s a lot of it…which makes sense because it’s designed to protect your baby from any harmful material that might enter the uterus.
Thinking back to my healing experience with diastatsis recti, a very sore psoas muscle and weak core muscles, I now understand the amount of compassion one needs to not only look at their postpartum bodies with appreciation, but to be curious about what this new body needs. I delved into this issue even deeper during a recent conversation with Dominique Quarles on the podcast.
Whether you’re aiming for a smooth delivery or simply a nutritious start for you and your growing baby, okra is an MVP in the building of a strong birthing body. Nutritious and rich in vitamins, minerals, and fiber, okra is often used in traditional medicine and it has been suggested that it may have benefits for pregnant people as well.
After months of telling myself it wasn’t worth it—a direct contradiction to what I want this platform to stand for—I decided to supplement my writing with a podcast!
The theme of this year’s Black Breastfeeding Week is Revive, Restore, Reclaim. What a beautiful and on-time theme because 2020 has been a rough one. A global pandemic, the righteous reckoning and continued fight for racial justice in America, and even more lives lost from the black maternal mortality crisis. The beauty of this theme is that it asks us questions that acknowledge our inherent power.
I literally crossed a threshold into a new way of being, thinking and moving in this world. And it was right on time. This Fall, I will officially begin training to become a childbirth educator with Birthing from Within, an organization committed to honoring the sacred in birth experiences.
Her vigilance was with her over the years, even as she supported my postpartum recovery. Days after delivering my daughter, it was my mother who noticed I wasn’t feeling well. She ended up ringing the alarm for me when I couldn’t recognize that I may have been at risk for blood pressure complications of my own.
On a regular day, I can second guess and worry myself into oblivion. But the uncertainty of The Rona and all the chaos she has brought with her? It’s turned the heat all the way up on my anxiety. And as much as I might tell myself that I am, I know I’m not alone.
The quality of postpartum life is critical to the well-being of new mothers and babies. Most new mothers will struggle with their new bodies and feel the pressure of “snap back” culture. But we have to be gentle with our bodies. Flooding the postpartum narrative with more conversations about our real rehabilitative needs after delivery is a wonderful start.
As we headed downstairs to the family room (where my birth area was set up), we didn’t say much to each other. We didn’t get anxious or scared. We simply moved. Looking back on the experience I’m in awe at how in sync and grounded we were. It’s as if birth and my anxiety couldn’t occupy the same space.
I look forward to the day when breastfeeding rates among African-American women no longer lag behind our white counterparts. I envision a tomorrow where hospitals, workplaces and systems everywhere advocate for EVERY nursing mother.
I was not gentle with myself. And I was so sad for my baby who had no say in her genetic coding. But I had to center the facts. We knew the chances of us having a child with sickle cell. But the fact is, we created our daughter in love, and that is exactly what I needed to center as we raise, nurture, teach and fight for her.
How do we protect our narrative and stop it from becoming the medical systems’ tool for fear mongering? And how do we do this while honoring those who have been harmed? These are not simple questions. But we can all play a role in the answers.
This lady’s face, her voice, her smile and even her scent likely connected him to a mother he’d already bonded with by the time he was my age. For him it was a reunion. For me it was an introduction to a benevolent stranger. I didn’t know this woman.
All of our stories are like wells, providing growth for ourselves, our diverse narrative, and our maternal health advocacy.
I jokingly tell people “my first baby had to be evicted.” It was a big departure from the low-intervention birth we wanted.
I will share our stories of pain and peace, laughter and sorrow, tragedy and triumph, to help nourish a whole and balanced picture of what our maternal health looks like.