Am I Doing Good Enough As a Single Mom?

Sometimes, I really think I have this single mom thing under control. Not perfect. But nicely managed. I feel confident that my children are adjusting and that our routines matter. But the other week a troubling thing happened.

While eating a very lovely dinner of roast chicken (stuffed with rosemary,sage and thyme) and macaroni and cheese, my children and I found a wishbone. They decided to make a wish.

Of all the things that could be running through a child's mind to wish for, my 6-year old son whispered this, "I wish my parents would get back together."

I was somewhat shocked and a little sad.

My husband left July 2006 and since then I've worked tirelessly to keep a stable home environment for them. I left my demanding and lucrative career to work for myself and be more present for them. I am there at nearly every drop off and pick up, every school performance and book fair, we have family dinners every night, fun weekend activities and I have worked every day to maintain a good co-parenting relationship with the "wasband" for the good of the children. I tell them that we are still a family, just a different kind of family and I make sure they include their Dad in their nightly prayers. But I've also tried to make it abundantly clear to them that their father and I are happier apart and this is how things will be.

So, where have I gone wrong? Should I take it personally that my children are still holding on to a dream that will never (and I do mean never) happen? Or is this what children do for years and years after divorce? Will they ever get it and be okay?

My parents have been married 51 years and I feel blessed that I don't know what my children are experiencing. But that also leaves me clueless as to what is "normal" for this situation and what is not. You can only read but so many books.

As mothers, we want to make our children are emotionally well-rounded, stable and sure in their sense of self. As black mothers, we know the latter is most important because the world will try to tell them who they are. It is our job to make sure they know the truth. And much of that, in my opinion, begins at home, with a strong family. Regardless of what your "family" looks like.

I thought, well hoped, that my efforts would make my children feel normal. Complete. That they would accept their new reality and be ok with it. I thought that they were happy and settled in their new life but as it turns out, they are still yearning for their old one. And I'm concerned.

Am I doing something wrong? Or are they exactly where they are meant to be?

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.

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/

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

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.

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????