Birthing My Story

Introducing a series of reflections on my pregnancy and motherhood journey

You can’t see me right now, but I’m taking a long, deep inhale as I birth this story.

My motherhood story.

I know that the world in up in flames right now. We are in the midst of concurrent apocalypses that threaten our humanity on a daily basis. But, as I’ve reflected on this gut-wrenching election, I’ve decided that Black women are all the more entitled to take up space and tell our stories. Even if it’s just to ourselves, for the sake of our own memory, we deserve to narrative the experiences that have texturized our lives and to speak the words and wisdom that have been born of that which we have survived.

Furthermore, we are in the midst of Black Maternal Mortality crisis in this country. This crisis is a public health disaster in which Black women are disproportionality experiencing morbid pregnancy and childbirth-related outcomes, including death. As I write this series of reflections, this crisis will be an important reality to note, because like many Black women and birthing people, it gave me a justifiable feeling of fear through much of my pregnancy.

When I first started this Substack, I named it “the bloom.” because I wanted to share my journey of personal development, spiritual formation, and vocational expansion. As a professional clergywoman, I thought it would be interesting to share some of the inner workings and musings of a woman in ministry. So often, we are impacted by the public dimensions of ministry and leadership, without knowing what led to the convictions that we share in our pulpits and platforms. To date, nothing has been an experience in “blooming” quite like becoming a mother. From the literal expansion of my body, to the moment of giving birth to our beautiful son, to the process of trying to make sense of everything in these postpartum months, this story is one to share.

In fact, this story has been “gestating” ever since I gave birth. In the quiet moments of maternity leave earlier this year, I did so much reflecting on my pregnancy journey. I felt amazed that I’d made this creation and that he was now living on the outside of me. In my arms. On my breast. I’ve been reflecting every day since. And now that my son is nine months, I believe that it’s time to share. I want to remember this journey. Even the hard parts. I want a written record to share with my child when he comes of age. I want to share what might be helpful with my community. In particular, I hope that something I share waters the seeds of hope in another Black woman who is on the verge of giving birth. There are stories of survival, my sisters. There are stories of birthing experiences, that while they may have been unexpected and scary, they turned out to be beautiful. I offer my stories to you.

Over the next several posts, I will share more than about odd cravings, swollen ankles, and heartburn. I’ll tell you about how a trip to my hometown of San Antonio, Texas taught me about the importance of ministering to my inner child, and why this has been pivotal throughout these last eighteen months. I’ll tell you about how my community grew to include angelic strangers, and how the support of this village helped me to face my fears of giving birth. I’ll tell you about how I did my best to stay well, body, mind and spirit, throughout my pregnancy. I’ll share how I clung to my agency as I navigated the healthcare system. I’ll share how I was unexpectedly admitted to the hospital after a routine prenatal visit, and my son came forth about 36 hours later. I’ll share some of the sweetest, along with some of the most challenging, moments of these first few months of motherhood. I’ll conclude by sharing some of the resources that have been indispensable during this transition.

I hope we can engage this story together. I’d love to hear your stories, answer any questions, and share insights and wisdom. Tomorrow, I’ll be opening up a subscriber chat for those who would like to connect in a conversational, informal space. If you would prefer to communicate more personally, feel free to send me an e-mail by replying to this post. Please, reach out. I would love the community!

So, over the next couple of weeks, as Autumn is settling in and 2024 comes to a close, I invite you to join me as I reflect on what has been an incredible time. Today, I want to leave you with a few songs from the playlist that kept me hopeful, excited, and grounded in my faith throughout my pregnancy.

Thanks for being here, and stay tuned!