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.