Thoughts on Black Motherhood

April was a traumatic month for me. Being a black person living in America is traumatic in and of itself, but April was particularly scarring. Between the many black lives that were taken by police and the research I have been conducting on #blackmaternalmortality rates I have been struggling with my desire to reproduce.

I’ve always wanted kids. Always. When I was young I just new I’d be an amazing mom. But knowing I can’t protect them the way I would want to - the way every mother wants to protect their kid - gives me pause. Also knowing that simply bringing them into the world could take me out... has me fearful. And while I don’t like admitting I’m afraid, that’s where I currently am.

I watched this episode on New Amsterdam last month centered around #blackmotherhood and I was both moved and saddened. A continuous theme was doctors checking each other to break the habit of telling black women what they need and instead listening to what they want. They worked with each other to truly hear the desires of their patients and assist these women during a momentous event - making the birthing process special instead of traumatic.

I want that for myself. I want doctors who listen to me. I want to feel heard and understood. I want to trust that the people helping me bring a life into this world truly have my back.