I have a hard truth, that I’ve been hiding: right at this moment, I’m a doula who is afraid of having a baby.
It’s not the pain of labor. Contractions come, and then they go. And if a cesarean birth were what was right for my body, that would be okay too.
But as a Black woman over 30, and especially a Black doula, I have some concerns about this whole process. And by concerns I mean that I’m having dreams about the walls closing in on me, and losing my breath when I contemplate becoming a mother myself.
First off, the elephant in the room- Black maternal mortality.
It’s been a long year, particularly for pregnant folks, and while we’re seeing some positive outcomes (probably as a result of more people getting rest during pregnancy), there have also been several cases of Black women dying during birth or soon after that made the news. It’s highlighted for me what I’ve known for years- education, money and even being a doctor does not protect us.
I know that so many more of us live than die, and I know that we still have power in this situation. I’m still nervous.
This only adds to another thing on my mind- the risk of postpartum depression.
I’m someone with a history of anxiety and depression, and while I’ve managed it well the last couple of years, I know dark places. I’d rather not go back, and I’d very much like to avoid it with the need to keep a tiny human alive.
But none of that is new. In fact, I have plans in place for all of those things. (Hypothetically speaking. This is not a pregnancy announcement!) I know how to give myself the best possible odds- the conversations with medical providers to have, the postpartum doula I’d hire, all of that.
There’s something about this year though, that is bringing things to a tipping point. Watching motherhood in 2020 is driving a deep fear within me.
Maybe you can imagine why, but let me explain-
I got into this work for women (with respect to all genders that give birth). And I’ve fallen in love with supporting brilliant women through pregnancy, labor and postpartum as their doula. There is nothing like watching y’all take on this identity, and seeing how the things that help you accomplish so much in life are amplified in labor, and make you fierce mothers.
But this pandemic is setting women way back.
Mothers are sacrificing careers because childcare is non-existent.
In recent years, Black women have been behind a major growth in entrepreneurship, and now, so many are closing those businesses.
While many women do have someone to co-parent with, in my observation (and in studies) the brunt of the childrearing work still rests with women in most straight households.
And this is just too much to bear. The idea that I’d work hard to even stay alive, keep my brain together, only to have to give up huge parts of who I am? I’m going to be honest, it terrifies me.
You see, I’ve spent 33 years now becoming myself, and learning to love her. Because of the depression and anxiety I mentioned, that’s sometimes been a big feat!
I’ve always imagined that I’d get to bring that whole self to raising children. I know that motherhood shifts our identity, and I’ve sometimes seen it it can make us more ourselves. That’s beautiful to me, and what I wanted to do for myself, and model for my children.
But I’m watching our worlds shrinking. We’ve had to care for our families in a pandemic, under a government that has shown complete disregard for us all. And we’re made to feel guilty if we don’t love every moment of it?
It’s just too much!
Saying all of this out loud is even scary to me. After all, I’m a doula. I’m not supposed to be afraid of the thing I support others through.
But here’s a thing I know, and a thing I tell our doula clients all the time- we cannot hide from our fears.
So I’m shining a light on this, and hoping and praying I’m not the only one having these thoughts.
Another thing I know is that the struggles that I see are not supposed to be navigated alone. We’re not meant to do motherhood in isolation. Nor can I overcome an entire culture that was not designed to support women like me while pregnant or once the baby is here, all by myself.
Thankfully, I have a whole pool of people to talk to about this:
- Colleagues who get to see women make this transition every day
- Business friends who prove to me that ambition and motherhood can be compatible (even in the upside-down world we’re living in)
- Former clients who have taught me continuously that we are more powerful than we think we are.
So instead of continuing to shrink in fear, I’m going to do a thing that I’m good at- talk to other women!
On Instagram live throughout November, I’m inviting women to discuss their identity before and after motherhood, how weird and nerve-wracking it all is, and everything that scares me. I’m going to remind myself of what is possible, and build a community of support. I can’t be the only one who needs this.
Join me?
Learn more about or Attain course so you can give birth on your own terms.
