Battling the Bulge from Birth

This is the time of year when everyone is thinking about eating lots of good food with family. Then in a few weeks, we will all make new and not-to-be kept resolutions about losing the weight gained by eating those same meals and many others throughout the past year.

But to really battle the bulge, not just for ourselves but for our children, we have to start early, avoid empty promises and face the facts.

Now, for the most part we black women love our curves and really have no use for the latest crash diets. The way we walk, talk, and dress says "I am bold and beautiful, love it or leave it!" But at as fabulous as we think we are, obesity is still a prominent issue in the black community.

I have heard every excuse from "My family is big- boned" to "queen- sized" and my favorite "That just means there's more of me to love!" And, while these statements and mantras seem to scream I am confident and love my body, we need to address why statistics show that six out of every ten African American women are overweight and four out of every ten is morbidly obese. There is a huge difference between having a little belly or being a little hippy and packing on 30 to 100 extra pounds or more. 50 percent of African-American women are obese compared to only 40 percent of Mexican-American women and only 30 percent of White women.

While we already know that the high rates of obesity in our community is linked to the prevalence of diseases such as heart disease, diabetes, high blood pressure, stroke, arthritis and cancer. We don't see too many people addressing prevention strategies for all of these diseases that start at birth. If we really want to curb the obesity epidemic in our community we have to start well before childhood. We can start as soon as the baby is born.

Breast-feeding helps us lose the weight we gained during pregnancy and has many other health benefits for us too.

Breastfeeding is proven to reduce your baby's chance of being obese. The breastfeeding-obesity link is now recognized by key government agencies and professional groups, Including the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and the American Academy of Pediatrics. Experts at the CDC in Atlanta estimate that 15 percent to 20 percent of obesity could be prevented through breastfeeding. Here are some of the reasons why:

• Breastfed infants may be better at self-regulating their intake. Mothers cannot see how much milk their child is drinking, so they must rely on their infant's behavior, not an empty bottle, to signal when their infant is full. Thus, breastfed babies might be better able to eat only as much as they need.
  
  
• Breastfed infants are more likely than formula-fed infants to try and accept new foods. Acceptance of new foods is important because a healthy diet should include a wide variety of foods, especially fruits and vegetables. Because breast milk contains flavors from foods eaten by mothers, breastfed infants are exposed to a variety of tastes early in life. In contrast, artificial baby milk (formula) always tastes the same.
  
  
• Breastfeeding has different effects than formula feeding on infant's metabolism and hormones such as insulin, which tells the body to store fat. Formula-fed infants tend to be fatter than breastfed infants at 12 months of age.
  
  
• For us to make a real impact on obesity in our community, we have to start at birth. It's really that simple. Resolving to breastfeed more and support any breastfeeding mother you know, is a real resolution for change.

Want Happy Holidays? Avoid the Holiday Spending Hangover

It always strikes me how the holidays are supposed to be so merry, but they seem to always end up being so stressful. Moms and dads want to create the "perfect" Christmas, everyone is trying out out-do the other and the whole thing turns into a mess. A lot of the holiday stress is around money, or the lack thereof. And the holidays are often the time when many families take on more credit card debt, blow their budget and avoid paying bills just to find money to buy presents. And in these tough times, overspending can be more dangerous than ever before. It has been estimated that one out of every three African American families is at the risk of falling out of the middle class due to job loss, overspending, unexpected financial crises or other issues.

Even though our spending power exceeds $920 billion the average net wealth of black families is merely $15,000. In fact, Black people disproportionately represent a major portion of Americans in debt:

• Right out the gate more Black college grads are left with more debt than white students, and the average American takes about 10 years just to pay off their student loans.

• Over 90% of African-American families earning between $10,000 and $24,999 are in credit card debt.

• 26% of Americans said that they do not pay all of their bills on time. Among African-Americans, this number is 51%.

This year, I'm imploring all families to be mindful of their budget. Avoid taking on undue stress by digging yourself deeper into debt, and strongly consider going back to basics and remembering the true spirit of the holidays. Family. Togetherness. As moms we play a critical role in setting the tone for the holidays and we also bear the brunt of cleaning up any financial messes we create. As part of my personal gift to you, I also found these great tips that I wanted to share with all women and heads of households, so that you can have a merry holiday without the holiday hangover. That never feels good.

1. Minimize all gifting and expenditures to your immediate family (You and your Kids, and husband/significant other)

2. Make a list of your income and all of your expenses.

3. After you have a very clear picture of where your money has to go you can see where you have room to wiggle room! Give yourself a very specific credit card budget and don't go beyond that.

4. Instead of buying 3 or 4 expensive gifts buy more inexpensive gifts.

5. Start early and use layaway programs for your must-have items.

6. Make this holiday season about family bonding. Check your local papers and websites for free events that will be great for you and your family.

Let's make smart decisions to close out this year that won't leave us stressed out next year.

Formula Fed? Not For My Baby: One Mom's Story

According to my Random House dictionary, definition No. 6 for the word "formula" is a mixture of milk and other ingredients for feeding a baby. I can deal with the milk; it's the other ingredients that concern me. The word "formula" immediately makes me think of mad scientists hovering over test tubes in a laboratory. It also makes me think of experimenting and trial and error. Why "formulate" something to feed your baby when God has equipped most women's bodies to produce milk after they give birth. Breast milk has exactly the right amount of fat, sugar, water, and protein that a baby needs.

I once heard that humans are the only mammals that intentionally feed their young something other than their own milk. That, among many other factors, helped me decide not to give my baby formula. When breastfeeding is an option, I think Black mothers owe it to themselves and their babies to breastfeed for as long as possible. Other than women with illnesses that prevent them from breastfeeding, new moms should at least make an attempt to give their babies the considerable health advantages that breast milk has been proven to provide.

Extended breastfeeding has been credited with protecting babies from various illnesses. It is said to increase a child's intelligence and it may also help to prevent obesity. Breastfeeding may offer protection from SIDS (Sudden Infant Death Syndrome). Some research has even linked the failure to breastfeed to intestinal issues experienced later in life. Breastfeeding exclusively for the first six months seems to offer babies significant health protection.

Moms benefit just as much from extended breastfeeding as their babies do. Breastfeeding moms are often free of a menstrual cycle for a longer period of time after giving birth. Breast, uterine, ovarian, and endometrial cancer risks are lower in women that practice extended breastfeeding. Diabetes is a disease that is prominent in the Black community. According to some studies, breastfeeding may lower insulin needs in diabetic women (http://breastfeeding.about.com/od/problemssolutions/a/diabetes.htm). Weight loss is another incentive for extended breastfeeding. In my case, about three months into breastfeeding I weighed less than I weighed prior to my pregnancy.

Along with the health benefits, extended breastfeeding provides an opportunity to bond with your baby in a way that no one else can. I can't put into words the joy I felt cradling my baby knowing that I was created by God to be able to nourish her. Mothers and babies are physically connected for 40 weeks during the baby's development. For breastfeeding mothers and babies extended nursing is a continued physical, emotional, and spiritual link.


Tangela Walker-Craft is the creator of Go Pillow! a patented, multipurpose childcare item that allows moms hands-free breastfeeding with comfort and president of Simply Necessary Inc. After nursing her own daughter for two years, Walker-Craft, realized that there was not a product on the market that allowed mothers to have nursing privacy and cradling comfort when others were present. Existing nursing pillows were too bulky and cumbersome for travel and cover-ups on the market required too much manipulation. The GoPillow! satisfies the needs of both breast feeding and bottle feeding mothers and caregivers. Learn more at http://www.simplynecessary.com/

New study: 400,000 infants born to depressed mothers. What can we do?

Pregnancy is supposed to be a happy time. Those glossy pregnancy magazines would make you think every pregnant woman is running through green meadows with unmitigated joy.

But we all know the real deal. Broken relationships, economic hardships, thwarted life plans or just bad timing can create so much anxiety during pregnancy and can crowd out any joy you may want to feel. We'd like to think this sadder side of pregnancy is the exception to most experiences, but a new study says otherwise.

A recent report by American Academy of Pediatrics says every year, more than 400,000 infants are born to mothers who are depressed, which makes perinatal depression the most under-diagnosed obstetric complication in America.

That's big news.

With so many babies being born to depressed mothers, what does that mean for the level of early bonding and care that they receive? When you're depressed you are probably less likely to breastfeed, especially when it can be very physically and emotionally demanding in the early days and months. And what about the moms? How healthy are their eating habits, also linked to their likelihood to breastfeed, if they are depressed?

The point is, sad moms are even sadder news for babies.

What can be done? For one, there needs to be a broader dialogue about depression during pregnancy and post partum. It would be great if we didn't only portray one pregnancy experience as the "right" pregnancy experience, doing so keeps moms in the closet about their real feelings and prevents them from getting the help they need.

In our community, we need to do more talking. Black people are socialized not to air dirty laundry, so to speak, so we are often reluctant to share our problems, particularly with strangers. But talk to your doctor, a friend or trusted relative. If this is difficult, call an anonymous hotline, if you must. Just don't try to face depression alone.

If you're depressed, take off the strong black woman superhero outfit and pack it away. If your belief system says, I'm strong and I should be able to handle all situations, when the occasion inevitably arises that you can't do these things, you think of yourself as a failure. Those feelings can only lead to deeper depression.

Can you lighten your load? Cut down on your chores, errands for others, and other stressful activities. Try to do more things that will help you relax and regroup.

And there's nothing wrong with a little couch time with a culturally competent therapist--one who understands the complexities of a black woman's life.

Our babies have enough challenges in this world, let's do our part to make sure our children are born to moms who are as happy and mentally healthy as possible.

The I.R.S Says No Tax Break For Breastfeeding Moms. Acne Sufferers Get OK.

This week, the good folks over at the Internal Revenue Service ruled that while people will be able to write off pimple creams and denture adhesives when the new tax sheltered health accounts kick in this January, women will not be able to write off the expense of breast pumps and other breastfeeding supplies.

A breast pump and various accessories can run about $500 to $1,000 for most mothers a year. Such costs, including nursing bras and other nursing friendly wear and gear are one of the many barriers for getting more women, and especially black women, to breastfeed longer.

The reason breastfeeding supplies didn't make the cut, is that the Internal Revenue Service has ruled that breast-feeding does not have enough health benefits to qualify as a form of medical care. Only as good nutrition, not as preventative care.

Seriously? I mean, aren't we past that conversation yet. And I'm sorry when did the IRS become a medical clearance board?

While breast-feeding supplies weren't allowed under the old regulations either, one major goal of the health care overhaul was to control medical costs by encouraging preventive procedures like immunizations and screenings, and what could be more preventative in infant health than breastfeeding?

Despite a growing body of research indicating that the antibodies passed from mother to child in breast milk could reduce disease among infants--including one recent study that found it could prevent the premature death of 900 babies a year--the I.R.S. has denied a request from the American Academy of Pediatrics to reclassify breast-feeding costs as a medical care expense, The New York Times reported.

I.R.S. officials say they consider breast milk a food that can promote good health, the same way that eating citrus fruit can prevent scurvy. But because the I.R.S. code considers nutrition a necessity rather than a medical condition, the agency's analysts view the cost of breast pumps, bottles and pads as no more deserving of a tax break than an orange juicer, the article continued.

I'm not even sure what to say about that.

Despite all the progress made in getting the medical field, Congress and even the First Lady to acknowledge the benefits of breastfeeding, it looks like the IRS did not get the memo. Or catch the video.

Meanwhile, a study released this year by Harvard Medical School concluded that if 90 percent of mothers followed the standard medical advice of feeding infants only breast milk for their first six months, the United States could save $13 billion a year in health care costs and prevent the premature deaths of 900 infants each year from respiratory illness and other infections.

But to continue breastfeeding beyond maternity leave requires a pump. And good breast pumps aren't cheap. Nobody is asking for a handout here, just a well deserved tax break. Like the one given to zit creams.

As with any tax code, there will always be ways to work loopholes. Some consultants say mothers may ask their pediatricians for a note that says breastfeeding is medically necessary. But to have working moms jump through even more hoops for something that should be so easy seems insane. And given that, allegedly, the whole idea of health care reform, is to make things better, the insanity of it all is just a little too much to bear.

Talking Midwives in Midtown: an Aha! Moment

Yesterday, I met an old friend for breakfast. We met at Norma's in Le Parker Meridien hotel. As we noshed on a delicious breakfast, pondered who has actually ordered the $1,000 caviar breakfast item, we had a ground shaking conversation about the role of midwives in changing the landscape for maternal health.

My fellow diner was my good friend Shirley McAlpine, a beautifully statuesque British woman. She became my friend when I lived in London and is now doing some amazing work in the U.K and U.S. about prenatal education and natural childbirth through her popular Birthwise DVD http://birthwisedvd.com/us/ and consulting work. The tagline for Birthwise is "Your Creation. Your Choice." I love that.

Shirley had just returned from the Midwives Alliance of North American conference in the Nashville, Tenn., area and she was buzzing. Her energy was infectious. And while we are both involved with maternal health issues across the board, as two black women we are also particularly concerned about the issues in our community. So the questions began to roll. Could midwives be key to helping reduce the high pre-term birth and low birth-weight baby rate that continue to plague black women of all socioeconomic levels? Could midwives help reverse the high exceptionally C-section rates among black women and reduce the shamefully rising maternal mortality rates among black women?

Shirley and I are convinced, yes. And birth center models like The Birth Place, http://thebirthplace.org an unique midwifery and women's health center in Winter Garden, Florida run by Jenni Joseph, show impressive results in reducing pre –term births.

But, why? The answer, as it unfolded before us, was in the education that midwives provide. Expecting moms who work with midwives are more informed about the birth process than women who work with doctors only. We all know that most doctors prefer that you know less, and trust them more, so that they can do what works best for them and not deal with any pesky little questions about your own life that you may have.

After all knowledge is power.

So when a woman who has had a midwife is told she needs to be induced. She knows she can ask why, if the baby's heart rate is fine and other measures she's been educated on are still ok.

When a woman whose water has broken is told that she must be induced, a woman with a midwife may have been taught that actually unless other indicators show otherwise a baby can be fine for up to 24 hours after the water breaks. It is Hollywood that has told us otherwise, and turned the water breaking into the mad dash to the hospital event that makes for great cinema but woefully misinformed moms to be.

And when a woman has a true (not Hollywood or doctor-friendly) understanding of how long the labor process can be, she won't stand for being told that a C section is necessary because it's been five hours and she hasn't dilated. She will also have been educated on the real signs of labor, so she won't go the hospital too soon where labor can be stunted by laying in a bed and you are more likely to be given unnecessary medical interventions.

These are key pieces to the puzzle. As we know, the answer is not in the prenatal care. Women are getting that. But that hasn't improved matters. The key is in the education--an education that often does not happen in its full measure at a traditional doctor's office. And that midwives can provide.

And that nuanced understanding of how black women end up on the operating table more and remain six times more likely to die from pregnancy-related complication is worth more the $1,000 caviar.

Breastfeeding On My Time

By Tangela Walker-Craft
WeNews guest blogger

I decided to breastfeed my daughter until she was 2 years old. I was the first person in my family to practice what is called extended breastfeeding since the introduction of baby formula.

I thought this was a personal decision, between me and my husband and my child, but boy was I wrong.

I taught her a few baby signs by the time she was about 9 months old, so she knew how to tell me when she wanted to be nursed. During the first year she was exclusively breastfed. By the second year she had a diet consisting of breast milk and toddler appropriate foods. During her second year, she breastfed less than the year before.

Unfortunately, unwanted and unwelcomed advice on when I should wean her came from everywhere. People that have never breastfed a day in their lives will offer their advice about when's the best time to wean YOUR baby. Even people that have never had a child will somehow know when you've breastfed long enough. Unbelievable!

If you resist their unsolicited advice, people may even switch from asking when you plan to wean to trying to scare you into weaning.

You'll likely hear, "If you don't wean her soon, you won't be able to do it." You may even get the, "She's going to start biting you when she gets teeth," threat. It's funny how most people accept that a baby will start to walk when he or she is ready, and talk when he or she is ready, but they think that there is a magic age when all babies should stop being breastfed.

Once threats don't manage to scare you into submission, the attempts to shame you into weaning may begin. You'll get the loaded, "You STILL breastfeeding that child? How old is she?"

Family members and people that feel that they can will make snide remarks about how your
child might be driving, married, or doing something else that's totally ridiculous before you wean him or her.

Things were particularly challenging because breastfeeding, especially extended breastfeeding, is not necessarily encouraged in Black families.

Like many breastfed babies, my daughter lacked the "baby bloat" that frequently occurs in formula fed babies. My well-meaning grandmother asked me dozens of times if I was sure my baby was getting enough to eat. She'd ask me, "Are you sure you're making enough milk?"

She and other members of my family refused to believe that my baby could survive on just breast milk. I was constantly guarding against my family's threats to give my daughter "real food". formula.

After breastfeeding six children of her own out of necessity, my 85-year-old grandmother seemed to view my decision to voluntarily breast feed as something out-dated or odd.

I think that moms that do not practice extended breastfeeding sometimes secretly resent moms that do. There is a competitive spirit that makes women want other women to make the same child care decisions that they've made. Women that do not, or did not practice extended breastfeeding, may feel that moms that do are judging them for their choice.

Contrary to the warnings, weaning for me was easy. Taking natural cues from my daughter during that second year, I breast fed less and less during the day time. Breastfeeding became more of a bonding and comfort activity for us at night. When I sensed that she was ready, I began telling her that mommy wouldn't have any more milk soon. My breast naturally responded by producing less milk because of the less frequent feedings.

My daughter's nursing slowed down to a few minutes only at bed time.

Over a three day period I cut the feedings down to quick bouts, which culminated in the end of what was one of the best experiences of my life. I am glad I never succumbed to the pressure to wean before we were ready, but it bothers me that such pressure exists.

Why are we so uncomfortable with extended breastfeeding?

Tanglela Walker-Craft is the creator of Go Pillow! a patented, multipurpose childcare item that allows moms hands-free breastfeeding with comfort and president of Simply Necessary Inc. After nursing her own daughter for two years, Walker-Craft, realized that there was not a product on the market that allowed mothers to have nursing privacy and cradling comfort when others were present. Existing nursing pillows were too bulky and cumbersome for travel and cover-ups on the market required too much manipulation. The GoPillow! satisfies the needs of both breast feeding and bottle feeding mothers and caregivers.


Learn more at:
http://www.simplynecessary.com/

New Study Links Race and Delayed Breast Cancer Diagnosis

It's breast cancer awareness month. And for all the much-needed talk and fundraising done to help raise awareness about this important women's issues, a new study shows a troubling link between race and breast cancer diagnosis.

African American women are more likely than white women to be diagnosed at later stages of the disease and are more likely to die from it. Researchers have long wondered why and considered lack of health insurance as a likely factor. Yet, a troubling new study says that race and/or ethnicity -- rather than insurance status – is the leading cause in these delays in breast cancer diagnosis in minority women.

Researchers at George Washington University in Washington say they were surprised to find among women with health insurance, African-American and Hispanic women experienced greater delays in diagnosing breast cancer than Caucasian women.

The number of days from abnormal screening to definitive diagnosis for those with private insurance was 15.9 days for white women, 27.1 days for black women and 51.4 days for Hispanic women.

The most staggering and disturbing disparity was among women with government insurance. In that group, delay times were 11.9 days for white, 39.4 days for black and 70.8 days for Hispanics. Among women without insurance, times were 44.5 days for white, 59.7 days for black women and 66.5 days for Hispanic women.

"We thought having health insurance would even the field among all women," researcher Heather Hoffman said in a statement. "Insured women should have had the same rapid evaluation regardless of race and ethnicity."

The study shows even further, the effects of race and ethnicity on a woman's health outcomes. And while researchers probe medical causes, there must be a deeper dive into the systemic bias and racism that exists among medical professionals and healthcare providers.

Far from a level playing field, women of color are battling against forces they can't see or control to have equitable healthcare.

So, now what?

For Our Sons Police Stops Are Part of Growing Up

Guest Blog by Dionne Grayman

My son was small for his age, having a birthday late in the year and always looked younger than he was. We all do. It's the family "curse".

When he began high school at the age of 13, I insisted upon driving him. He insisted upon taking public transportation. Living in New York City, part of the rites of passage for most of our children includes independent travel through the hundreds of miles of subway tunnels, elevated train tracks and bus routes. Daunting to tourists and suburbanites in for a show but not to the savvy city kid raised on pre-paid MetroCards and sightings of rabbit-sized rats. I won the battle the first day; he, the second. Sort of. I made him ride the bus, which was about a 90 minute ride; the train would have saved him half an hour. I gave him money to call me when he got there and he was supposed to call me when he was leaving. This was before cell phones became the mandatory kid-accessory. That would come on his third day of school, September 11, 2001.

I wanted him to ride the bus because I figured he would be safer on the bus, more protected. He had made the football team and became friends with other kids on the team who lived in our neighborhood and rode the train. Friends with names like Big Lou and Tall Mike. For a month he begged to be allowed to take the train, assured me that he would be fine, introduced me to his "bodyguards" and I relented.

And it happened, shortly after.

But we had had the conversations. I gave him pop quizzes when he came out of the shower, at dinner, in between his second and third helpings, because you never approach a hungry male asking anything-and after I had hosed him awake. And he went to private school, had his whole life. Wore a uniform which was known to every transit employee between here and there. He was articulate, bilingual, could speak "adult" as well as he spoke "teenager". He was clean cut, no earrings, no tattoos, no saggy pants, no gaudy chains. In the fall and spring, he wore the hoodie of the moment, in the winter a black Northface and black Timberlands with his oxford and khakis, just like every other young man at the all-boy school he attended-Pinero, Caluccio, Feist, Harden, Schwartz. It would be hard to tell them apart if they were all on the school steps with their faces turned away from the street parents used for pickup.

And it happened anyway.

One day, he was stopped by the police on his way home. Asked to present identification, asked where he was headed. That was the first time. The second time, he was asked for identification and frisked. Then the third time, the fourth, and the fifth. And he was patted down, had his backpack gone through, returned to him, sometimes gently, most times not.

My brother-in-law is a New York City police officer, a detective within a homicide division. New York's Finest, they're called. He gave him a courtesy card issued to officers to give to their relatives in the event they have an interaction with a fellow cop. I have used the card and received a warning instead of an expensive fine. My son has had the card thrown into his face and onto the ground. His "dealings" with the police did not end with his graduation from high school-with honors. Did not end despite his admission into nine of the ten colleges he applied to. It has not ended with his being a college senior with 3.5 GPA in a dual major. My son is no angel; he can be surly, argumentative and obstinate. He has experimented with alcohol and marijuana. He listens to rap music, I have heard him curse and I'm pretty sure he's no longer a virgin. Your typical all-American boy. Except it's only typical for African American young men and other men of color to be subjected to this kind of police treatment.

In addition to the coming-of-age conversations parents have with their children, black parents have to add the "What to Do WHEN You Are Stopped By the Police" talk to the list of ones they have with their sons. We have to, for their safety and our sanity. Because in our collective memory, there's the horrifically mutilated body of Emmet Till. There's Amadou Diallo and Sean Bell. My son's name is Sean. And every single time he's stopped, I feel I have failed him and I have failed in the God given responsibility of protecting my child.

The saddest part of all of this is he'd begun to become "immune" to being stopped. He, like too many other men of color in this city, had become desensitized to being treated criminally. They take it as par for the course; they shrug it off and most will laughingly share their war stories. But listen closely and you can hear anger comingled with humiliation and a weary, reluctant acceptance.

Not exactly the stuff that dreams are made of.

Dionne Grayman is the founder of Mothers Empowered, a coalition of mothers who are in search of their best selves and committed to the business of making this world a better place for our children. At Mothers Empowered the mission is ME! A former high school English teacher, Dionne has taught the full spectrum of New York City's children ranging from incarcerated juveniles on Riker's Island to gifted students at one of the city's most prestigious high schools. She has also served on the executive board of the Community Education Council in District 13 in Brooklyn and is the co-vice president of the PS/MS 282 PTA Executive Board. Grayman holds a bachelor's degree in English and journalism, a graduate degree in special education, and has completed CCC's Community Leadership Course. Learn more about Mothers Empowered at www.mothersempowered.org

SisterSpace: I Will Not Write a Blog for Infant Mortality Awareness Month

This is not a blog for infant mortality awareness month. Something so weighty deserves more than to be relegated to web log. I will not make any witty observations. I will not use any metaphors, similes, idioms, or analogies. There will be no alliteration or onomatopoeia used to help you get it.

There will be no opinions, only facts. The jarring sort that aren't typically welcome in a blog. This will not be entertaining. You will probably not "Like" this.

This is my virtual moment of silence for the babies who needlessly die every year. This is my silent cry in the blogosphere for greater awareness in the African American community where our babies are 2.3 more likely to die before their first birthday than in the white community. This risk exists for all black women regardless of income or education.

This is my anti-blog for the unborn who deserve to live to see their first birthday and my homage to those who didn't.

• Currently, the national infant mortality rate for Black babies is 13.7 per 1,000, compared to a rate of 5.6 per 1000 for White babies, 3.5 per 1000 for Asian babies, and 5.3 to 6 per 1000 for Latino babies.




• Black babies are four times as likely to die as infants due to complications related to low birth weight as compared to non-Hispanic white infants.




• African Americans have 2.3 times the infant mortality rate as non-Hispanic whites.




• African Americans had 1.8 times the sudden infant death syndrome mortality rate as non-Hispanic whites.




• College- and graduate-school educated black mothers have a higher infant mortality rate than white moms who didn't finish high school.




• The infant mortality rate for African American mothers with over 13 years of education was almost three times that of non-Hispanic white mothers.




• Black women who get prenatal care in the first trimester have double the infant mortality rate of white mothers with first-trimester care.




• Only 17 percent of all U.S. births were to African-American families, but 33 percent of all low-birth weight babies were African-American, according to one report.




• Black women with similar levels of prenatal care as Hispanic women (generally less educated and with lower incomes than blacks) have higher rates of low birth weight, preterm deliveries, and infant mortality.




• According to Dr. Michael Lu, assistant professor of obstetrics and gynecology and public health at UCLA, researchers have found that even when they control for such varied factors as poverty, housing, employment, medical risk, abuse, social support and so on, 90 percent of the differences in birth weight between black and white moms remains unaccounted for.

"Most studies have looked at black-white differences during pregnancy, for example, differences in prenatal care utilization or maternal behavior," he says. "What we're finding is that these differences really explain very little of the disparities in birth outcomes."

Sister Space: A Mother's Tale of Survival: Part 1

A Sister's Story: Erica Simone Turnipseed was having a great pregnancy when she developed HELLP syndrome at 24 weeks. HELLP stands for Hemolysis or rupture of the red blood cells, Elevated Liver enzyme levels in the blood, and Low blood levels of Platelets. HELLP is similar to preeclampsia, toxemia and pregnancy-induced hypertension. Erica's blood pressure climbed to over 240/110, her kidneys failed, and a priest came in to absolve her of her sins. The last thing she remembered thinking as she lay on the operating table was, if I die will I go to heaven? Erica survived. Her baby, named Grace Ayodele Webb, lived a miraculous four days before she died. This is Erica's story:

"The day started normally but I didn't feel very good. But I thought it was something that I ate. I began to feel worse and I thought, something is not right. I went outside to catch a cab to the hospital but because of the rain and the heavy traffic the trip took nearly an hour. During the time in that cab, I went from discomfort to pain to continuous pain to the point where I was crying. I felt like something was really going wrong. When I finally got to the hospital there was a lot of protein in my urine and my blood pressure was rising.

The doctor said I had the symptoms of HELLP syndrome and I was given two steroid injections to help mature the baby's lungs so we can make it to twenty-seven weeks. To them twenty-seven weeks was the magic number for my baby's chance of survival.

I was in some sort of Twilight Zone. I had heard things about preeclampsia and HELLP syndrome but it was in the back of the pregnancy books and I hadn't gotten that far yet.

Things got progressively worse and during the night, the doctor came and said that they were going to have to take the baby immediately. My kidneys had shut down and my blood platelets were low.

A perinatologist came in and explained to me the prognosis for a 24-week-old fetus. There were what seemed like hundreds of people in this frenetic energy all around and you know it's all for you. A priest came in and gave me the Sacrament of the Sick, which is something they do if they think you might not make it. I realized that I was really, really ill. I sensed that at 24 weeks, they didn't expect the baby to live, but what was now clear was they weren't sure if I was going to live.

I heard them yell, "200/110."

I'm not a doctor but I know that is too high to be anybody's blood pressure. By this point I'm crying and thinking, this might be it. You get to a point where you can choose to fear death, but if it's going to come, it's going to come. A priest came and prayed over me and for me. He absolved me of my sins. And I told them that I wanted to donate my organs. When it was time for anesthesia, he told me to count to ten. I remember counting to three and that was it.

When I woke up, the first thing I heard was, "She's alive, Erica." It was my partner, Kevin. The baby had been baptized and he saw it. He said he heard her cry. She was under one pound. They wouldn't let me go see her. They said I was too ill. My pressure had gone up to 240 before they were able to stabilize me. That was very tough. How can you say that to a mother? Part of my recovery was to see her…

Read the rest of Erica's story next week in SisterSpace.

Erica Turnipseed-Webb, a graduate of Yale, is now a married mother of two other children and author of A Love Noire and Hunger, two critically acclaimed novels. She lives with her husband, Kevin Webb, in Brooklyn, New York. Her life-changing story appeared in The Mocha Manual to a Fabulous Pregnancy by Kimberly Seals Allers.

Do you have a pregnancy story you'd like to share on SisterSpace? Email me at kimberly@mochamanual.com

New Orleans' Lower Ninth Draws Tourists, Not Aid

Recently I attended a conference on health disparities in communities of color. The National Health Policy Training Alliance for Communities of Color hosted over 40 journalists of all hues and ethnic origins to convene in New Orleans to discuss how we can better cover healthcare related issues and the health disparities that still plague our communities. For three days, we sat in a top floor of well-appointed hotel in the lovely French Quarter, having a lively discussion on how we can get better and more thorough coverage of the issues.

Turns out the real story about health disparities and racial inequities was but 20 minutes away, across the bridge and down Claiborne Blvd in the Lower Ninth Ward of New Orleans. The Lower Ninth ward was destroyed during Hurricane Katrina five years ago. The area was the hardest hit when the levees broke and the low-income community residents were the last to get help. The images of bodies floating through the water still haunt me.

One would have no idea of what is still going on in the Lower Ninth Ward by walking through the downtown area of New Orleans. I too, enjoyed walking up and down Bourbon Street, looking at all the new apartments, shops and restaurants that were alive and bustling in the downtown area. There, you would think Katrina never happened. The city looks like back to business as usual.

Tale of Two Cities, Still

I've never been one to take things on face value. It is my experience that in most urban environments there is almost always a tale of two cities, and the tale of the brown city that exists across the railroad tracks or the bridge or whatever socioeconomic divide exists in that particular locale, is almost always starkly different.

So when a few of the local community leaders came to address us, what they had to say about the Lower Ninth Ward was appalling but not surprising. They said that of the $90 million that FEMA allocated to rebuilding, that the Lower Ninth Ward has not received any money. Nobody has been told a definitive answer as to why.

They said the Lower Ninth Ward only has one working school for kindergarten through 12 grade with 750 students and a 450 student long waiting list. There are no hospitals in the area and God help you if you need emergency care and have to travel across the bridge and across town to get it.

They expressed their outrage that tour companies bring bus loads of people through the Lower Ninth Ward everyday to gawk at their despair, yet never sharing any of their profits or stopping to support local businesses. They said that many displaced residents would love to return, but can't because there are no schools and no real health care options for the elderly.

Concrete Steps Lead to Empty Lots

On my last day in New Orleans, instead of buying souvenirs and taking in the tourist traps, I asked a friend to drive me to the Lower Ninth Ward. It looked mostly like a wasteland with a few nice new homes put up. I saw plenty of concrete steps that once led to a house, but now only lead to a field of 5- foot-tall grass. I saw where do-gooders like Brad Pitt and other organizations have helped rebuild new and colorful housing, that quite frankly, ust looks weird sitting next to devastation.

But what I mostly saw was the biggest disparity of them all--the wealth disparity. Money given to help those who have and no money to those who don't. In fact, it is clear that the powers that be have no intention of rebuilding that community. To them, Katrina has become a tragic opportunity to rid the city of some of its poorest residents--I mean, really, who wants them around anyway. So why rebuild so they can return?

Now a new plan for the Lower Ninth Ward is in the works and its message is clear: Poor blacks need not apply. New developments and higher rents are on the horizon, but there are no jobs to support them. Even though blacks built that city, created its music and its food culture, the winds of economic racism have no regard for history. So the displaced stay displaced. And the disparities linger. In health and in life.

Note: Please watch Spike Lee's latest documentary, If God is Willing and Da Creek Don't Rise on HBO http://www.hbo.com/documentaries/if-god-is-willing-and-da-creek-dont-rise/synopsis.html for a real look at the Lower Ninth Ward and the impact of the BP oil spill.

The Importance of World Breastfeeding Week In My Piece of the World

August 1-7 marks World Breastfeeding Week. The annual campaign, organized by the World Alliance for Breastfeeding Action, is the one week where over 170 countries worldwide pay attention to our breasts and their power to help our children.

It's no secret that I'm a huge advocate of breastfeeding as one of the most important things a woman can do to give her baby the best start in life and give herself some unparalleled health benefits. And the Black Maternal Health Project proudly supports breastfeeding and is deeply committed to understanding how we can increase breastfeeding rates among black women.

So while the campaign, now in its 19th year, speaks to the entire world, I'm speaking directly to my part of the world. The African American women who historically have had the lowest rates of breastfeeding for the recommended time periods or don't breastfeed at all.

For over 30 years, African American women have had the lowest breastfeeding rates, and though the numbers have greatly increased in recent years, black moms still have the lowest breastfeeding rates of all ethnicities. And when it comes to the gold standard of infant nutrition--six months of exclusive breastfeeding, among African Americans the rate is only 20% compared to 40% among whites.

Some of these forces have been brewing for decades. A long time ago, black women were notorious for nursing. In fact, slave owners used and purchased black women as wet nurses for their own children, often forcing these mothers to stop nursing their own infants to care for others. "On the one hand, wet nursing claimed the benefits of breastfeeding for the offspring of white masters while denying or limiting those health advantages to slave infants. On the other hand, wet nursing required slave mothers to transfer to white offspring the nurturing and affection they should have been able to allocate to their own children," writes historian Wilma A. Dunaway, in the book The African American Family in Slavery and Emancipation, published by Cambridge University Press. And since breastfeeding reduces fertility, slave owners forced black women to stop breastfeeding early so that they could continue breeding, often to health detriment of their infants, Dunaway writes.

But there's more to our story than a stunted and complex breastfeeding experience at the hands of slave owners hundreds of years ago, though many may argue that some vestiges of slavery still exist in the mindset of the black community. Aggressive marketing by the formula companies in the 1930s and 40s made formula feeding the choice of the elite, "the substance for sophisticates" --white or black. And who doesn't want to be like the rich and famous. That marketing continues to this day, down to the formula company-sponsored bag of goodies you probably received on the way out of the hospital. Then there's something I call the National Geographic factor--that is, most of the images we see of black women breastfeeding are semi-naked women in Africa whose lives seem so far away from the African American lifestyle and experience.

To help remedy the global situation BAWA takes aim at hospitals and other maternity care providers. This year the campaign focuses on "Just 10 Steps--the Baby Friendly Way" showcasing the 10 steps hospitals need to do to encourage breastfeeding. Those ten points include:

• Have a written breastfeeding policy that is routinely communicated to all health care staff.




• Help mothers initiate breastfeeding within a half-hour of birth.




• Show mothers how to breastfeed, and how to maintain lactation even if they should be separated from their infants.




• Give newborn infants no food or drink other than breastmilk unless medically indicated.




• Practice rooming-in -- allow mothers and infants to remain together -- 24 hours a day.




• Encourage breastfeeding on demand.




• Give no artificial teats or pacifiers (also called dummies or soothers) to breastfeeding infants. (read all 10 points at www.worldbreastfeedingweek.org)

In our community, we need to talk and encourage each other more. And speak out. We still long for an African American role model in breastfeeding, like a Michelle Obama. In the meantime, if you are already on the breastfeeding bandwagon, tell others. Check out the "I Breastfeed Because . . . " campaign sponsored by Ameda, a leading breast pump maker. Mothers who are currently breastfeeding and or have in the past can log onto www.ibreastfeedbecause.com to upload 20-second videos that share the reasons why they chose to breastfeed.

The Importance of World Breastfeeding Week In My Piece of the World

August 1-7 marks World Breastfeeding Week. The annual campaign, organized by the World Alliance for Breastfeeding Action, is the one week where over 170 countries worldwide pay attention to our breasts and their power to help our children.

It's no secret that I'm a huge advocate of breastfeeding as one of the most important things a woman can do to give her baby the best start in life and give herself some unparalleled health benefits. And the Black Maternal Health Project proudly supports breastfeeding and is deeply committed to understanding how we can increase breastfeeding rates among black women.

So while the campaign, now in its 19th year, speaks to the entire world, I'm speaking directly to my part of the world. The African American women who historically have had the lowest rates of breastfeeding for the recommended time periods or don't breastfeed at all.

For over 30 years, African American women have had the lowest breastfeeding rates, and though the numbers have greatly increased in recent years, black moms still have the lowest breastfeeding rates of all ethnicities. And when it comes to the gold standard of infant nutrition--six months of exclusive breastfeeding, among African Americans the rate is only 20% compared to 40% among whites.

Some of these forces have been brewing for decades. A long time ago, black women were notorious for nursing. In fact, slave owners used and purchased black women as wet nurses for their own children, often forcing these mothers to stop nursing their own infants to care for others. "On the one hand, wet nursing claimed the benefits of breastfeeding for the offspring of white masters while denying or limiting those health advantages to slave infants. On the other hand, wet nursing required slave mothers to transfer to white offspring the nurturing and affection they should have been able to allocate to their own children," writes historian Wilma A. Dunaway, in the book The African American Family in Slavery and Emancipation, published by Cambridge University Press. And since breastfeeding reduces fertility, slave owners forced black women to stop breastfeeding early so that they could continue breeding, often to health detriment of their infants, Dunaway writes.

But there's more to our story than a stunted and complex breastfeeding experience at the hands of slave owners hundreds of years ago, though many may argue that some vestiges of slavery still exist in the mindset of the black community. Aggressive marketing by the formula companies in the 1930s and 40s made formula feeding the choice of the elite, "the substance for sophisticates" --white or black. And who doesn't want to be like the rich and famous. That marketing continues to this day, down to the formula company-sponsored bag of goodies you probably received on the way out of the hospital. Then there's something I call the National Geographic factor--that is, most of the images we see of black women breastfeeding are semi-naked women in Africa whose lives seem so far away from the African American lifestyle and experience.

To help remedy the global situation BAWA takes aim at hospitals and other maternity care providers. This year the campaign focuses on "Just 10 Steps--the Baby Friendly Way" showcasing the 10 steps hospitals need to do to encourage breastfeeding. Those ten points include:

• Have a written breastfeeding policy that is routinely communicated to all health care staff.



• Help mothers initiate breastfeeding within a half-hour of birth.




• Show mothers how to breastfeed, and how to maintain lactation even if they should be separated from their infants.



• Give newborn infants no food or drink other than breastmilk unless medically indicated.



• Practice rooming-in -- allow mothers and infants to remain together -- 24 hours a day.



• Encourage breastfeeding on demand.



• Give no artificial teats or pacifiers (also called dummies or soothers) to breastfeeding infants. (read all 10 points at www.worldbreastfeedingweek.org)

In our community, we need to talk and encourage each other more. And speak out. We still long for an African American role model in breastfeeding, like a Michelle Obama. In the meantime, if you are already on the breastfeeding bandwagon, tell others. Check out the "I Breastfeed Because . . . " campaign sponsored by Ameda, a leading breast pump maker. Mothers who are currently breastfeeding and or have in the past can log onto www.ibreastfeedbecause.com to upload 20-second videos that share the reasons why they chose to breastfeed.

Sharing My Story: Post-Partum Depression

A few weeks ago, I went to visit a girlfriend who has been showing some signs of post partum depression. I trekked all the ways to Queens, with dinner, two able hands for baby-holding and diaper changing and my trademark sense of humor, ready to be a supportive friend.

Turns out, I have a lot to learn. Because what she really needed from me was the truth.

My truth.

And my truth (that I somehow nearly forgot) was that I struggled with my own frightening bout with post partum depression. One that led me to get professional help.

Today I am talking candidly about my own bout with post partum depression in the hopes of starting an open conversation among black women and more personally, to help my girlfriend. To show, there's no shame in my game. If one more of us openly talks about post partum depression, I'm hoping that more of us will keep talking and helping each other. And so I start with the mama in the mirror. Here goes:

I'm pretty sure I had some sort of post partum after both of my children. But with my daughter, it was actually a little scary. Very scary. At first, I didn't really think it was post partum because I wasn't having dramatic crying spells or feeling sad or hopeless. In fact, as you may know of my personal story, if the circumstances of my pregnancy didn't tip me over into clinical depression, then I figured I was straight. During the daytime, I was happy and proud. I had a lovely 3 bedroom, 2 bath apartment, my freelance career was doing well, I was proudly breastfeeding and staying at home with my newborn.

But at night I was gripped with fear. Like seriously, irrational fear. I remember vividly thinking someone was in my bathroom waiting to kill me. I remember hearing noises all night. At first, I thought, well, I'm in a new place. It's a big apartment and I'm all alone with a helpless baby, of course you are afraid.

But then my fears got out of control.

I started having keep-me-up-at-night fears of a fire. Once I packed a "fire" backpack for me and the baby and left it underneath the window I designated as our escape route. At the height of it, my brother or father had to come over every night and sleep at the apartment with me. I couldn't sleep on my own. The fear took over my nights and my sleep. My dreams were violent. Someone was always hurting me or my baby. My daydreams and night dreams were vivid. I saw it all playing out. It seemed so real. I was afraid to sleep. And remember frequently staying up all night to avoid the violent dreams.

Something was wrong. I kept thinking it would pass. But it didn't.

I was too ashamed to tell my friends. I thought I was going crazy.

And the strangest thing about my fear was that, true to who I am, I always had an action plan. I was never just a victim. When fears of fire consumed me, I packed a backpack with essentials and carefully plotted the best escape route. When I thought someone was breaking into my house, I crafted the most ingenius, homemade, home security devices. Some of which, now make me laugh. One of which is in my current home today.

One night, at my lowest point, I was so afraid and yet so sure that someone was going to break in that nigh and hurt us, I slept with a spray bottle full of bleach in my hands. That was my self defense plan.

I've never told anyone that.

The next day, I knew I needed to talk to somebody. And I did. My doctor gave me a referral.

In just a few sessions with a therapist, things really turned around for me. By talking to a stranger, I felt surprisingly free to be open, vulnerable and honest. Short version: One day, something clicked for me and I felt better. In the end, I did what I needed to do to get in the right mind to take care of my baby. And I'm hoping that any woman who reads this and is battling with any sort of anxiety or depression post baby or at any time in her life will do the same.

And that's my story. Do you have one? There's a girlfriend out there who needs to know.

The Problem with Alicia Keys. And Too Many Black Women Like Her.

I just love Alicia Keys. On any given Saturday, you'll find my children and me closing out our usual Saturday morning dance party with a stirring rendition of "If I Ain't Got You," where we substitute each other's names in the chorus. My kid-friendly traveling CD features Alicia's live-out-your-dreams anthem "Unbreakable." And when I'm feeling unstoppable, Alicia's lyrics from Superwoman: "Still ,when I'm a mess, I still put on a vest, with an S on my chest. Oh yes, I'm a superwoman," really speak to me. Oh, and please don't get me all riled up about Empire State of Mind.

But I've got a growing problem or real concern about Alicia Keys and many black women like her when it comes to our pregnancies. A few weeks ago, I held my breath as I watched Alicia Keys climbing her preggers self on top of a piano at the BET Awards, albeit during an incredible tribute to Prince. But still. And then last weekend, she fell off her 4-inch heels and landed on her backside while performing at the Essence Music Festival in New Orleans.

I'm concerned because for over five years now, I've been on a personal mission to help black women have healthy pregnancies and healthy babies. That's what the Women's eNews Black Maternal Health Project is all about. When my first book, The Mocha Manual to a Fabulous Pregnancy (Amistad/HarperCollins) came out, it was the first of its kind, a hip and funny book to really talk to a new audience of savvy black women about the lifestyle issues and unique stressors that are affecting our pregnancy and birth outcomes.

Studies show that even successful, college educated black women are still twice as likely to have a low birth weight baby, twice as likely to have a pre-term baby and nearly three times more likely to die during childbirth than their white peers. Nobody knows the exact root cause of these disparities, and why education and class don't protect black women from poor birth outcomes as it does for white women.

But one of the biggest self destructive behaviors among black women is what I call the Strong Black Woman Syndrome. The exact same problem Alicia sings about in her Superwoman song. We notoriously carry our communities, we carry our families and we carry our pain, but we put an S on our chest and project a "strong" image regardless of how broken we are inside. In our culture we are raised to view "weakness" as a character flaw. We must be strong. Period.

Having that conditioning is helpful in so many scenarios. But it can be damaging during pregnancy. In my many years talking to black women about pregnancy and championing the black female's pregnancy and parenting experience at www.MochaManual.com, I am still struck by the number of black women who don't see pregnancy as any deviation from their normal state of being. They expect to be able to continue to work just as hard, to continue to carry others, and to not take special care of themselves. We work and work and work because that's what we do. And even while taking on the most phenomenal journey known to womankind, we act like indestructible machines that can just keep going and going, and not as fragile humans charged with shepherding a new life into the world.

Alicia, we love you! But as one hard working black woman to another, I'm personally begging you to ease up on work and the piano climbing and allow yourself to be still.

Still.

Respect the journey of pregnancy. We know you are a superwoman. But your baby needs you to be super careful, super mindful and super stress free. We've got plenty of your great music to hold us over. I just want you to focus on the most important production of your life.

Beyond the Baby Blues: Post Partum Depression and Black Women

My girlfriend had a beautiful baby boy two weeks ago. Now she's having tearful meltdowns nearly every day.

I've tried to assure her that part of what she is experiencing is very normal. The hormonal freefall after birth can be so powerful. And the overwhelming nature of life with a newborn can break down even the strongest woman--even if it's your third child, as in my friend's case, or perhaps precisely because it is your third child! In fact, about 1 and 8 women experience some sort of postpartum depression within the first few months after childbirth.

But my Spidey senses are all in overdrive because I know black women have a special relationship with postpartum depression. For starters, we don't talk about it. In fact, depression in general, is a taboo topic in our community.

Yet, depression among black women is more common than most realize. Formal statistics on depression in African American women are either uncertain or non-existent because the research is scarce. But studies have indicated that we experience postpartum at a higher rate than white women.

After all, African-American women live with more depressing stressors. We are black and female and living in a society that frequently devalues our children and our culture and undermines the significant roles we play in our communities. And because we are so used to suiting up in our Strong Black Woman gear, we take it personally or as if we have somehow failed miserably when we just can't handle it or keep it together post baby. And we have rarely allowed ourselves to be damsels in distress, vulnerable or able to ask for help. But I'm here to tell you ladies that depression is a chemical imbalance in the brain, not a character defect or a moral failing.

With so many nuances as to how we process and respond to postpartum depression, I canvassed the Internet to find out exactly what researchers do actually know about black women and postpartum depression. It may not be groundbreaking stuff, but it is certainly eye-opening and worth sharing. So here goes:

1. Our postpartum depression may be a result of lack of social support and more child-related duties among other issues.



2. It is also associated with more physical issues (back pain, tiredness, headaches) in comparison to Caucasian women, according to one study.



3. Black women culturally view it as a sign of weakness and often have feelings of guilt that they can not live up to certain cultural ideas like the "Strong Black Woman."



4. We often treat it through the use of self-talk or by confiding in family and/or friends.



5. Is sometimes a secret, as African-American women may sometimes fear the cultural stigma attached to depression, as well as the negative consequences of confiding in the medical community. These negative consequences include past atrocities in the health care system, such as those illustrated by the film Miss Evers' Boys.



6. It is sometimes recognized in the African-American culture as not having faith in God, being possessed by demons or a form of punishment for wrongdoings.



7. In general, black women handle postpartum depression better in comparison to their white counterparts.

The problem may be nuanced and complex, but the solutions seem simple: more support.

In a study on race and postpartum emotions by the University of Iowa, the researchers found that "strong social support can serve as a buffer against postpartum depression, and that poor social support is a major predictor of postpartum depression.Past studies have also shown that Latina mothers tend to have more social support, while African-American women tend to have weaker support networks," the study said. The researchers speculate that these ethnic differences in social support might account for racial differences and the higher rate of depressed moods among black women during the postpartum period.

If you know a new mom, offer your support, beyond the, "hey girl, how are you?" phone call. I'm brushing up on my new baby skills, packing the hand sanitizer, my trademark good humor and some yummy take-out and heading to my girlfriend's house this week. Keep you posted!

Racist School Boards. Insensitive Teachers. Black Moms Have Their Hands Full

Lately, I've been very concerned about some disturbing new reports coming out of our nation's school systems.

In Alabama, a teacher uses a hypothetical assassination of President Barack Obama as an example in a geometry lesson. The teacher later apologizes for his "very serious error," gets a formal reprimand and is ordered to take diversity training.

A North Georgia teacher allowed four students to don mock Ku Klux Klan outfits (they used SpongeBob Squarepants party hats under the sheets for that oh-so necessary cone effect) for a final project in a high school social studies class.

On a state level, The Texas State Board of Education, a Republican-dominated group, recently voted to 'rewrite history" in its textbooks and adopted a social studies and history curriculum that amends or waters down the teaching of the civil rights movement, religious freedoms, America's relationship with the U.N. and hundreds of other items. The suggested revisions include calling the Atlantic slave trade the "Atlantic triangular trade" instead and describing the civil rights movement as creating "unrealistic expectations of equal outcomes" among black and white Americans.

These are the things that really frighten me as an African American parent. There seems to be a strong tide to make black history invisible and I worry black children aren't too far behind on the list.

Thankfully, as a black mom, I've always thought it was my responsibility, not the schools, to teach my children black history. They never really got it right in schools anyway and only seemed to focus on slavery and Martin Luther King. But black history, even an incomplete version of it, really isn't for black children. It is really to help all children learn how diverse peoples have contributed to America's greatness and even to her not-so-great moments.

When one of our experiences is downplayed, rewritten or trivialized by teachers in a classroom or administrators on a school board, it is a sad day for all parents. Not just the African American ones. When educators make bone-headed decisions without thinking through the impact on all of the students, they have to be held accountable.

Meanwhile, every day I send my brown little boy and brown little girl to school, I hope they return without having their sense of self scarred or their history insulted. I hope their teachers are aware of their own biases (hey, we all have them) so that they can work past them for the sake of all the students. But lately, I've been losing faith.

And I give thanks that I don't live in Texas, where foolish men and women think rewriting history changes our present and future. Rewriting history books won't change the limitless future I'm creating for my children, but only shows me how in one more way, black parents have to really bring their A-game to our parenting journey. It also shows me, once again, the unique stressors that black women face in childrearing.

These are the subtleties that eat away at us and affect our birth outcomes and our overall health, despite prenatal care. These are the things that we have to recognize as relevant to our overall health and not just something we shrug off as part of the black experience. These are the things that make me recommit to a healthy lifestyle for myself and my children, so I can be here, strong, healthy and whole, to teach them at home, advocate for them at school and build their futures.

And no one will be able to rewrite that.

Breastfeeding Moms Found to Have Vitamin D Deficiency, Study Finds

African American Moms at Higher Risk

We all know breastfeeding is best for mom and baby. But moms have to continue to practice excellent self care, by eating well while breastfeeding. A recent study found as many as two of three mothers in Cincinnati, Ohio, who breastfeed had insufficient blood levels of Vitamin D. In addition, three of four one-month-old infants whose mother breastfeed had Vitamin D insufficiency, according to the study by the Cincinnati Children's Hospital Medical Center.

"Mothers who are Vitamin D deficient produce little or no Vitamin D in her milk and are unable to give a baby all of the Vitamin D that he needs," says Adekunle Dawodu, M.D., a physician in the Center for Global Child Health at Cincinnati Children's and lead author of the study. "Mothers and babies who breastfeed need Vitamin D supplements to ensure optimum health."

Dr. Dawodu presented his study recently at the annual meeting of the Pediatric Academic Societies in Vancouver, Canada.

The study focused on 120 mother-infant pairs who were enrolled in a global human milk research collaborative. The prevalence of Vitamin D insufficiency in mothers was 66.4 percent at four weeks postpartum and the prevalence of deficiency was 16.8 percent at four weeks. The prevalence of insufficiency in infants was 76 percent at four weeks and the prevalence of deficiency was 18 percent.

Major results of Vitamin D deficiency include brittle bones, rickets and increased risk of respiratory infections. Vitamin D deficiency is particularly high among African Americans, so black women have to extra vigilant.

"In addition to taking Vitamin D supplements, people can also make sure they are getting modest sunlight exposure," Dr. Dawodu says.

Your commitment to having a healthy baby and a healthy you doesn't stop at delivery. Breastfeeding moms have to continue to eat well, drink plenty of fluids and take vitamin supplements, if necessary, to maintain their own optimal health.

The Black Maternal Health Project is all about embracing the mother, and just as important, asking more mothers, breastfeeding or not, to do a better job of embracing themselves.

What's in Your Womb? Pre-programming for the rest of your life, that's what.

Do you have heart disease, high blood pressure, diabetes or high cholesterol? Like many people, you're probably thinking that your diet, exercise (or lack of it), or weight play a significant contributing factor. And they likely do. But there's something else to consider. Are you ready? Here's the 64 million dollar question: Were you a low-birth weight baby?

Did you know that being a low birth weight baby could make you more susceptible to having heart disease or high blood pressure 40 or 50 years later?

This amazing nugget relates to a new discovery in epigenetics, called fetal programming. Fetal programming refers to the process whereby a stimulus or insult at a critical point in fetal development creates permanent changes in the structure and function of the baby's vital organs, leaving lasting or even lifelong consequences for health.

The idea of fetal programming was first introduced by Dr. David Barker and his colleagues at the University of Southampton in England. Barker and his team made a connection to poor fetal growth inside the womb (which resulted in low-birth weight) and coronary heart disease, diabetes, high blood pressure, diabetes, high cholesterol and a many more chronic adult illnesses later in life.

Barker hypothesized that similar to programming a computer, a baby's heart and other vital organs are actually "programmed" inside the womb. If something negative happens during pregnancy then those organs may not get the proper programming and never fully function at their best over a lifetime.

It's an amazing way of thinking about the long term effects of pregnancy beyond just what happens at delivery. It was one of the many Aha! moments I had last week, as Dr. Michael Lu, from UCLA, presented on the Life Course Perspective as part of the Women's eNews Black Maternal Health Conference (click here to watch the webcast)

Lu discussed the "Barker hypothesis" and showed that although it was initially met with some skepticism in the scientific community, over the past decade more and more scientific evidence is building to support this idea.

Two key areas that Dr. Lu highlights:

• Maternal stress linked to ADHD in children. When a woman is stressed out during pregnancy, her baby is immersed in a stress hormone called cortisol. Studies indicate that over exposure to cortisol in the womb results in permanent changes in the structure and function of the fetal brain. There are more and more studies linking maternal anxiety and stress during pregnancy to neurological disorders in children, including ADHD.
  
   


• Maternal nutrition linked to childhood obesity.  Poor fetal nutrition cause permanent alterations in key organs such as the pancreas, kidneys and blood vessels which can lead to diabetes, hypertension and heart disease later in life. In addition, poor fetal nutrition affects the genes the help the body use and store energy more efficiently. They are called the "thrifty genes." In our food-crazy society, those turned on "thrifty genes" mean that body will hang onto to every calorie possible, predisposing a child to a lifelong struggle with obesity.

The point is, so much is happening in the womb that affects your baby not just at their birth but for the rest of  life. And if we really want to prevent obesity and heart disease in children and adults, then we have to go back to the womb and make sure those organs are properly optimized from the start.

Learn more about what you can do to prepare your womb for optimal fetal programming by reading Dr. Lu's book.

 

Black women are dying! Enough scaremongering, it's time for solutions!

Lately, I've been extremely frustrated by all the news reporting about maternal mortality. Yes, it is a terribly frightening and frighteningly embarrassing issue. Women are dying during childbirth for preventable reasons, and African American women at even more shocking rates and something must be done. Like now.

A recent study by Amnesty International, entitled "Deadly Delivery", reports that deaths from pregnancy and childbirth in the United States have doubled in the past 20 years--from 6.6 per 100,000 live births in 1987 to 13.3 deaths per 100,000 live births in 2006. Pregnant women and new mothers are dying because of "systemic failures" in the current health system, the Amnesty report said.

The alarming data on maternal mortality is even more shocking for African- American women. We are three to four times more likely to die during childbirth than white American women. And even wealthy black American women have a higher rate of mortality during childbirth than wealthy white women.

Yeah. It's serious.

Now I understand the power of fear as a coercive tool in the media world and in political circles, but my personal fear is that all the negative reports and doom and gloom coverage makes the situation seem hopeless. It makes women, particularly Black women, feel powerless to a force that no one can succinctly explain or otherwise tell them how to prevent.

People don't get behind hopeless. Research money doesn't come to hopeless. And the right kind of awareness that actually empowers women to have healthy childbirths and live healthier lives overall doesn't come from hopeless. It comes from hope.

That's why I'm so excited about the work of Dr. Michael Lu, an associate professor in both the UCLA School of Public Health and the David Geffen School of Medicine at UCLA, and one of the influential thought leaders who's talking about new solutions to the maternal health problem. It's pretty clear the old ones aren't working.

Dr. Lu's work focuses on the "life course perspective," a simple yet groundbreaking premise that rests on one simple truth: you cannot correct the outcomes of childbirth simply by looking at the 40 week gestational period. Saying that black women need better prenatal care is a start but not the complete answer. We need a longer term "life course perspective" to address the issue, which includes rethinking how healthcare is delivered, how we look at life stressors and how we get back to focusing on mothers and communities.

I've been a fan of Dr. Lu for some time. In fact, his work was one of the research inspirations for writing my first book, The Mocha Manual to a Fabulous Pregnancy (Amistad/HarperCollins). At the time, it was the first-of-its-kind book for African American women that looked beyond the nine months of pregnancy to offer advice on all areas of life that could affect a woman's pregnancy outcome from her finances, relationships, life stressors, cultural taboos and her medical history. It was the "all you" approach to pregnancy for black women, and I'm grateful to Dr. Lu's work for inspiring me to develop that concept.

I'm also very grateful and excited that Dr. Lu will be speaking this week at our Black Maternal Health conference and sharing his insights and answering your questions on what we need to do now to close the gap in maternal and infant health disparities for African American women.

Please join us on April 28th at our NYC offices at 12:30 p.m.(simply rsvp with your name and affiliation to rosemary@womensenews.org) or click here http://www.ustream.tv/channel/wenews to watch live via our webcast.

We've read the depressing headlines. It's time we start talking about solutions. Please be a part of the conversation.

Hatred After Health Care Reform. Racism Rears Its Head

I'm sorry, where exactly are all the people who vehemently declared after President Obama's election that we were living in a post-racial America? Please stand up.

Seriously.

Let's recap a recent scene: The president of the United States passes a historic bill to reform health care in this country and actually save lives and protestors resort to allegedly hurling racial slurs at black lawmakers? I won't even mention the choice words being thrown at our nation's commander in chief? Protesters, what about the million things that are supposedly wrong with the bill? Why not use those as your sticking points?

It really goes to show how far we have not come in this country. Whenever there is passionate disagreement, which, by the way is a good thing and what makes this country great, someone somewhere is going to resort to race. It's as if racial bias consistently sits just under the skin of the culture of this country, and if anything slightly irritates or pricks that delicate skin, the ugly truth just comes oozing out.

Then you wonder why I fear for my black children. The reason: I'm in fear of many white parents, who are acting out their racial biases for everyone to see on CNN, YouTube, at Tea Party conventions and on the local news for crying out loud. What kind of messages are these children getting at home and then bringing to the playground?

In fact, the whole health care reform process has been an embarrassing stain on our reputation. As I watched the drama play out in total "SMH" mode, I desperately tried to extract a few lessons:

The ridiculous myths about death panels and the alleged slippery slide into socialism reminded me how important it is for me to teach my children to be independent thinkers willing to research the facts on their own, rather than have that dangerous herd mentality where people foolishly rally behind buzz words that speak to their issues and biases.

The fact that not one Republican took a stand for better healthcare said to me that partisan politics was more important than saving lives. I hope my children never lose their humanity in their quest to get ahead. I will remember to remind them of that.

And watching the racial slurs and Obama assassination threats on Twitter (even allegedly by two conservative blacks, no less) reminded me of something my Daddy taught me long ago: people who resort to mud-slinging and in-the-gutter tactics, are desperate and pathetic because they really have nothing of substance to say.

Our so-called post-racial America has a lot of road ahead of it. In the meantime, the impact of racism is still seen everywhere from our political circles to our health disparities to our educational system.

Memo to Michelle Obama: Big Food Makers Don't Give a Fructose About Our Kids

I love Michelle Obama. Her strength, professionalism, sass and savvy are enviable. And as a mom, I can only applaud her efforts to reduce the embarrassingly high obesity rates in this country. Earlier this month she spoke at the Grocery Manufacturers Association meeting and asked big food companies like General Mills, Kraft Foods and Coca-Cola to produce more healthful food. What chutzpah! Then she went one step further by asking the food companies to then market the healthy food to children, instead of the red-dye, high sodium, high calories crap they usually market to our children.

Now I can certainly understand that the First Lady has to ask everybody to join in the fight against obesity. It is certainly an all-hands-on-deck type of goal. But if she really thinks big food companies will actually do something , then I'm a little concerned. I'm hoping she figured, "well, the event is in D.C. and I won't have to miss school pick up so what the heck."

The truth is, big food makers are not going to kill their cash cow by actually making healthier food, especially when making the unhealthy stuff is so cheap and rakes in serious money. I mean, hey, if it ain't broke, why fix it? That was like asking the healthcare companies to support health care reform with a public option. It was never going to happen. These corporations are big businesses looking for a profitable business model that works. Remember the multi-billion dollar kick in the bottom line it took for the tobacco industry to actually clean up their act? Big business, no matter what public relations spin they try to put on it, only acts in their own self interest. That interest is to keep shareholders happy and CEOs happier with fat paychecks and even fatter bonuses. My child's health is the last thing on the mind.

Thankfully it is the first thing on my mind. That's why it is really my responsibility and that of every other parent to make sure their child has a healthy diet and an active lifestyle. This is particularly true in our community where studies show that almost 36 percent of black children between the ages of six and eleven are overweight, and more than 19 percent are considered obese. Among twelve- to nineteen-year-olds, 40 percent are overweight and nearly 24 percent are obese.

More importantly, we as black mothers have to set a good example by modeling healthy living and healthy eating ourselves. Our own health impacts our children from pregnancy through adulthood.

I appreciate that the First Lady has to make all the appropriate rounds (and like I said, no out of town trip required) but no parent or reasonable adult should ever expect big business (or government, for that matter) to do what we need to do for ourselves and our children. That is, take back our power as parents and as the CNO (chief nutrition officer) in our homes. When your child begs for unhealthy crap, try this novel approach and simply utter, "No!" and actually mean it. Or better say, yes, but only once in a while.

Attention world, here's how to get the food makers on board: Stop buying the unhealthy stuff. When they lose the financial incentive for making unhealthy food options then they will stop. Period. When we educate ourselves as parents so that, as Mrs. Obama noted, we don't fall for gimmicks such as a food maker marketing one healthy aspect (such as adding one gram of fiber) while doubling the calories, then they will be forced to clean up their act. Until then it's just photo opps, PR spin and back to the sodium-laden processed foods with ingredients you can't even pronounce (Someone please ask the good folks at Hooked on Phonics to produce a special edition to help us get through our food labels).

That's fine for them. But we, as moms, have plenty of work to do. Let's get down to our big business.

Saving Ourselves: We Need Our Village Back

I was walking in Harlem one day and I heard and saw a young African American boy, about 10 years old, being scolded by his father. Like most kids, it seemed like his father was telling him to do something he didn't want to do. The exchange escalated to the point where the father was yelling at his son and it became more intense. The rest of the conversation–-voices elevated, high intensity, passersby watching-–went something like this:

Young Black Boy: "I wish I could kill myself." (Repeat, repeat, repeat.)

Father: "Oh yeah, what good would that do?"

Young Black Boy: "At least I could be in heaven and I wouldn't have to be around you."

I stop in my tracks.

I couldn't move. The father continued to yell at the boy, while the mother stood by quietly holding onto a baby stroller.

Now I know emotional blackmail when I hear it and I could see this boy's pain in his face and in his body language. It was one of those moments when my mommy instinct told me to run over there, hug that boy and tell him millions of moms are rooting for him and his success.

I would add that this life here on earth can be beautiful and peaceful and full of possibilities. "And that, even when it isn't, you don't ever give up."

I wanted to run over to his mother with hugs as well and an understanding and empathetic look that would send the message, "I know, sister, it ain't easy" and then maybe share some of my own struggles in childrearing.

I knew none of these options was allowed.

Back in the day, it was a given in most black neighborhoods that everybody on the block or apartment building was responsible for the wellbeing of each child. Every neighbor could tell you off or tell your parents what you were up to (and their concern was welcome) and a few select neighbors may have had punishment or spanking privileges. Your child was everybody's child. Your wellbeing was everybody's well-being.

But, on that day, I knew that our "village" mentality has long disappeared and that I needed to mind my own business, stop standing on the corner acting as if I was lost (when I was really engaged in the drama) and keep it moving to my car.

I drove off very sad that day. I was sad to hear that beautiful young boy declare that he thought death could be better than his life. I was sad to know that at a time when we need other mothers, aunties, grandmothers and sometimes well-meaning strangers more than ever before to help us raise powerful and productive black children that we have rid ourselves of these traditions. To our own detriment, I believe.

At the time when we need full community support to improve our individual health as black women and to have healthier babies, we have instead resorted to isolationism and leave-me-alone-ism, followed by do-nothing-ism. It's a dangerous combination.

But on that day, I was even more upset with myself. I felt I should have said something, done something anything, despite the consequences. I even dreamed about it--my negligence haunting me in my sleep.

I wonder, if we can start showing African-American mothers that we care, understand and support each other, can we bring “the village” back? If we add community responsibility to the basic tenets of personal responsibility then would you take a stand for me to have a healthy lifestyle? If we rewrite the rules for what actually defines “my own business,” and say every African-American child is connected and if yours fails, mine fails so therefore, by some very fundamental rules of logic and humanity, it is indeed very much “my business,” can we bring it back?

Can we????

My Sister in the Struggle to Reduce Infant Mortality

There are sisters. And there are sisters. I consider Phyllis Rabinowitz to be my sister in the struggle to save infants who never make it to their first birthday--a cause I am passionately committed to. Phyllis joined the fight after enduring a mother's worst nightmare.

On July 21, 2006, her daughter Rebecca Ava died at 8-day-old after being misdiagnosed in the emergency room. The trauma began with their ER experience.

"The doctor was so dismissive. He was like, 'This is just a common cold. I've seen children for 20 years. I've got to get to a real emergency down the hall.' . . . No matter what my husband and I asked for, the whole experience was very condescending. We knew she was sick," Phyllis recalls.

They refused to readmit her. By the next morning baby Rebecca was septic and bleeding from the nose. Phyllis will never forget the sight of her husband desperately performing CPR and the seemingly endless ride in the ambulance, but baby Rebecca didn't make it. The Rabinowitz's ordered a state autopsy, independent of the hospital, which revealed that baby Rebecca had a common enteroviral infection, not a common cold. Had baby Rebecca's symptoms been properly diagnosed and treated she would still be here today.

Instead Phyllis and her husband, Andrew, learned in the most horrible way that most emergency room physicians are not properly trained in pediatric emergency care. In fact, very few hospitals have all the necessary equipment to properly treat babies.

"Like any parent, we were profoundly sad and angry. I was in a deep depression. We started researching for answers. We knew something was not right. We learned how all ERs are not created equal when it comes to being ready to treat infants," Phyllis says.

And then, sitting in their den, with supportive friends and family, Phyllis and her husband decided to do something. The R Baby Foundation http://www.rbabyfoundation.org/index.php was born with the distinct purpose of saving as many babies lives as possible, particularly those have some sort of viral infection in their first month of life, by improving pediatric care in emergency rooms across the country.

Today their work includes, raising awareness around infant mortality and emergency room care, providing training opportunities for anyone who touches a baby, providing life-saving equipment to hospitals and parent education (check the website for a soon-to-be-released 10-page guide for parents).

I'm a proud supporter of the R Baby Foundation and I am always inspired by Phyllis' commitment to teach parents how to advocate for their children. This for me is especially important in the African American community, where the quality of the healthcare we receive is often tainted by bias, stereotypes and living in underserved communities.

This year, the MochaManual team and I will be once again participating in the R Baby Foundation's Mother's Day Run/Walk http://www.rbabyrunwalk.org/Markslist/ext/rba/home.do?masterCampaignId=3130 on Sunday, May 9th in Central Park, New York City, to raise awareness and funds to improve emergency pediatric care for babies. There are plenty of activities for the whole family. Visit www.mochamanual.com for details for our team. What a great way to start my Mother's Day!

As for life after loss, Phyllis said it best: "My baby only lived 8 days, but she's in my heart everyday. And she inspired us to help save other babies so they could live their lives."