Breathe, Baby
I wasn’t winning any Grand Slams while pregnant, but Serena Williams's childbirth story is relatable to me. At the tender age of 39, my pregnancy was labeled “geriatric.” I feel fairly certain the offensive and insensitive term for pregnant women over the age of 35 was coined by a male doctor. My pregnancy was further complicated thanks to Lupus and all its comorbidities. On December 16, 2022, I gave birth to my little girl, Antoinette Irene. I was hoping for a Kwanzaa baby but my high-risk pregnancy ended early in an emergency cesarean. I was thankful for Antoinette’s early evacuation so I could start weening myself off the pharmacy full of medications that I was prescribed for pregnancy-induced pain, high blood pressure, and thyroid disease. I was also grateful to leave a life of bedrest behind me and all the worrisome thoughts that consumed my mind.
While the first few months were uneventful, by the 2nd trimester my little fig-sized fetus and I were bouncing from a rheumatologist, endocrinologist, cardiologist, ear nose throat specialists, and maternal-fetal medicine consultations. I had to reach down to the depths of my soul to extend grace to my sister when she asked me, “Other than lupus, thyroid disease, and high blood pressure, what makes you high risk?” [Insert eye roll and big belly sigh here] Before answering with my WebMD degree, I rephrased her question to, how do your chronic health issues increase your risk? Lupus patients are at a higher risk for pre-eclampsia, hypertension, blood clots, and preterm delivery. Hypothyroidism increases the risk of pre-eclampsia, anemia, miscarriage, low birth weight, stillborn, and heart failure. My fruit bowl full of fibroids was taking up womb space putting my placenta at risk of separation and possible preterm delivery. Last and certainly not least was my shrimpy cervix which also could have contributed to preterm delivery. Jadakiss’ We Gonna Make It was my theme song to sandbag the often even teeter-totter of faith and fear.
Throughout the pregnancy, I was filled with anxiety that we would be another statistic added to the high Black maternal and infant mortality rates in America. I often wondered how women withstood multiple pregnancies. My ruminating thoughts returned to my great-great grandmother, Lucinda Daniels. She was born in rural southwest Georgia and later married my great-great grandfather Scott Baldwin. Together they created twenty-two children. Thirteen of their children, including two sets of twins, passed away during infancy. They were still enslaved as sharecroppers on the same land their parents were enslaved fifteen years after the Emancipation Proclamation “freed” Black people from unpaid labor. There were no days off to grieve each loss. I like to imagine my ancestor used heavy breathing and deep sighs to ease her stress caused by picking cotton and peanuts while pregnant and tending to the children, her husband, and home. I hope she had a rocking chair to soothe her sympathetic nervous system and expel the trauma from her body.
I sat with her trauma and mine and practiced plenty of pranayama, the fourth limb of yoga based on breathwork. With each intentional inhale and easeful exhale, I mindfully made peace with my practice as it morphed into meditation and movement away from my mat. I rested, did reiki, and rubbed my body with butters and oils. I saged after showers, drank plenty of water, and walked. I logged off social media and shut out the images of Millennial and Gen Z Black women busting down weights at the gym through their third trimester. I curled into a supported child’s pose to ease my pains and slumbered to the soothing sounds of meditative sleep stories. My pregnancy was a much-needed reminder that yoga’s not about the asana or physical poses. Practicing presence is the most powerful way to perform pranayama, tune out distractions and tap into self.
I leaned into thankfulness and the three things I loved about being pregnant:
Feeling the baby move.
My long luxurious locs.
People helping me up, holding doors, and carrying packages.
I eagerly counted down the days until my little homie’s eviction from her studio efficiency and relocation into a corner of my one bedroom. I readied myself for my new roomie to be making noise all hours of the night, eating in bed, and stinking up the joint. I dipped a toe into the fourth trimester before my world shifted while trying to give sustenance to my weak-necked newborn.
Similar to Serena, six weeks postpartum, I developed a pulmonary embolism. My milk ducts clogged while trying to breastfeed my daughter. Mastitis matured into a MRSA infection. My Lupus compromised immune system and the infection created a conducive storm for the clot to form in my lungs. There’s a common misconception in the medical industry that Black people don’t feel pain. That bias resonated deeply during my extended postpartum hospital stays. I actively advocated for my health and ensured my medical team knew that I’m fragile and must be handled with care. The strong Black woman trope doesn’t serve any of us.
Mastitis
A breast surgeon removed over 2lbs of puss and dead tissue from my breast.
Serena’s open letter to her mom hit my heart. She recalled how the media viewed her muscles as more masculine, chiseled at her confidence, and anticipated they would do the same to her baby. Motherhood is a magnifying mirror. I see my reflection when my daughter’s tiny little limbs stretch from fingertips to toes and her feet and knees naturally fall into butterfly pose. I’ve lived through more than my fair share of race-based stress and trauma and would like to spare my little one. I want my little girl to “jump at the sun” in the same way Zora Neale Hurston’s mother empowered her children to live a limitless life. The only way I know to prepare and protect my daughter from this world is to teach her truth and to fill her toolbox with all things mindfulness so that she can define herself and lead her life with self-love.
I recorded this in my 2nd trimester to help with sciatic and back pain. Pregnancy not required to try it!! Please sign up for the Ohmies Insights Newsletter to stay in the know on future holistic human healing experiences. In the meantime, take care of yourselves and Be Well!!
