How is pregnancy and motherhood different for African American women?

If I had a dollar for every person who asked me, "How is pregnancy and motherhood different for African American women?" I'd be a very, very rich woman. Yes, the formula for pregnancy is the same for all women. Forty weeks=one baby. But the journey can be so much different. Our experience is different. Our stresses and anxieties are so different. And therein lies the rub.

For example, when I was pregnant with my first child, I prayed to God that I would have a girl. This wasn't a dress up, little princess, mini-me type of daughter fantasy, I was just literally afraid of raising a black boy. As a new parent, we already doubt our parenting skills anyway, but I certainly didn't know how I could ever raise a black man in a world that is statistically stacked against him. I was stressed and afraid.

Consider these facts:

• The number one cause of death for Black males between the ages of 15-25 is a (violent death) murder.


• One in four Black men will enter prison at least once, compared to only one in 23 white males having the same experience.


• According to the United States Department of Justice, Black males currently constitute 12 percent of the national population but 44 percent of the prison population.

I thought about how, someday, I would have to sit with my son and teach him his legal rights and what to do and not to do when approached by the police. Stress. I remembered how my own brother was often stopped for no good reason. Many times I was with him when it happened.

I remember our family's unspoken sigh of relief when my brother reached his eighteenth birthday and then his twenty-fifth birthday and was still alive, never incarcerated and college educated. He had beaten the odds. These are powerful milestones for our black men. I don't think white mothers have the same worries over their boys. And so you can understand, why I prayed to God for a little girl.

I got my girl.

But my son, Michael Jaden, came four years later.

Lately, I've been remembering how my mother would beg my brother, who was an ace student at Hofstra University, not to dress in street fashions like baggy jeans or baseball caps because she feared that he could be easily mistaken for a "thug" by policemen who shoot first and ask questions later. Even then, as a big sister, I felt my mother's pain. Today, as a mother, I know my mother's pain and her fear and her worry. It is a stress that is never ending yet powerful.

In September my son started kindergarten. And I was a nervous wreck for all the reasons every mother gets worried about the first day of school. But I was particularly anxious for a few reasons only Black mothers will understand. Reasons why my experience now as a black mother is still highly stressful. Studies show, black male achievement begins to decline as early as the fourth grade and by high school, black males are more likely to drop out. Fourth grade! We need to start asking why.

What's more, everybody, even the best teachers, has their own biases. They come from our upbringing, the influence of the media and many times we aren't even aware of them. But what if those biases affect how the teachers and principals view my son, my young black male.

Will they give Michael 3000% percent if they are subliminally thinking he will likely be dead by 18 or that his future is really in sports or hip hop and not in academic excellence? Will they see my beautiful brown boy for the person he really is?

Recently I had an unsettling experience: My son has been reading since he was 4 years old. He was the only reader in his Pre-K class and everyday throughout the school year his teacher would tell all the parents hanging around for pick up how he reads stories to the other children, helps them tie their shoes (because they don't how), and spells like a champ. He is also the only African American in the class. At the end of the school year, a bunch of moms and dads from the class got together, and their whole conversation about my son was about how fast he runs, how he wins all the races at parties, and how he has a very muscular tone for a 5-year old. These things are true. But not one person talked about how smart he is. Even though that was the messaging they received about my son nearly every day. Not one parent.

And so I'm afraid. And when I send him off to school every day, my work as a Black mother begins. My stress as a black mother intensifies. My job, raising a black male, is to make sure any teacher, principal, or school administrator sees my son for his brilliance and not the statistic or stereotype this world often perpetuates. My parenting needs to be on-point so that my son knows that he is destined for excellence, that he is not a statistic or stereotype and that he is loved unconditionally even in a world that fears him.

This is my new prayer. And I have a strong yet sad feeling that it's a prayer being echoed by millions of Black mothers all over the world. This is just a sampling of our stresses. I hope more of you are beginning to understand.

Allow Me to Introduce Myself: Kimberly Seals Allers

Welcome to the SisterSpace. Relax, get comfortable and prepare yourself for a groundbreaking conversation about our health and our lives as black women and mothers.

My name is Kimberly Seals Allers and I'm the editorial director of the Black Maternal Health project at Women's eNews. BMH is dedicated to providing unprecedented news coverage of the issues behind the high infant mortality rate among African American babies in this country and embracing all mothers in the journey of motherhood. The truth is black women are at a greater risk of losing their baby before its first birthday regardless of her education level or socioeconomic background. That's a problem.

The solution is complex.

But it starts with a keen awareness of the problem by all black women and a commitment to take better care of ourselves in general so that we enter motherhood in a healthier state.

I know this may sound simple, but it involves a complete shift in our mindsets. After all, we black women are notorious for being eternal Super Women--we put on our red cape and boots and go out to save our respective worlds. We are so good at nurturing others but fall short at taking care of ourselves.

The legacy of black women in this world is so rooted in hardship that it has become a defining element of the black female experience. Our foremothers are repeatedly portrayed as strong and emotionless creatures who took care of white women, their white children, as well as their own family. When enslaved children and adults were split up and moved to other plantations, it was the slave women who took care of the extended families who remained. In fact, as long as history has documented our existence, we have been taking care of other people. Sometimes we had no other choice, as refusing to do so could mean severe punishment or death.

Today, it's a different story. And taking care of others while neglecting our own health, is just one area of our lives that creates stress that can have serious health implications.

Even in the strongest of women, prolonged stress can lead to chronic upper respiratory infections, hypertension, heart disease and obesity. During pregnancy, stress has been clinically proven to adversely affect birth outcomes. Many experts now conclude that stress causes the release of hormones that weaken the uterus, leading to premature delivery or infant mortality. The hormone changes can occur over a lifetime, not just in pregnancy. They can build up from fear of violence, worries about paying bills, job insecurity, or standing for long periods of work. One study found that pregnancy complications were more frequent among black women who said they were dealing with racial discrimination at work or in housing situations.

That's why it is so important for us to start this new conversation. Here at SisterSpace, we'll be talking frankly about what our experience is really like and how we can manage the many stressors that may be affecting our babies' health. We'll probe into old research and ask why there isn't much new research on why our birth outcomes and maternal health statistics severely lag our white counterparts. Most importantly, we will still crafting solutions, our solutions, for saving our babies and saving ourselves.

Please join me.

Kimberly Seals Allers is also the author of The Mocha Manual to a Fabulous Pregnancy,(Amistad/HarperCollins) the first-of-its kind pregnancy guidebook for black women, and editor in chief of www.mochamanual.com, a daily online magazine and lifestyle destination for Black moms. An award winning journalist, Kimberly is a former writer at Fortune and a former senior editor at Essence. She lives in Long Island with her two children.

Kudos to New Moms. Taking Care of Baby Is Not Like Riding a Bike.

A few weeks ago I happily agreed to watch my girlfriend's one year old son for about two days so she could take a work trip.

"I got this", I thought. Auntie Kim is on it! After all, it was only four years ago that I had a one year old. I figured getting back into the baby mode would be like riding a bike. It was more like getting hit by a bus!

Apparently four years is more than enough time to fall off your mommy game. It's amazing how quickly we can forget the work, the juggling (literally), the organization, the patience, the lack of sleep and all the "stuff" that baby's actually require. Because every phase of childhood brings its own stresses, I had nearly forgotten about this phase.

I didn't even mention that my girlfriend still breastfeeds him (Whoo Hoo!), so putting him to bed was going to require some serious creativity and a lot of patience. I haven't rocked and walked and sang that much in years!

Truth be told, on one of the days, I had a little help. My girlfriend from London was in town--and though childless, she is a highly capable Auntie to even my own kids. As two highly educated, savvy women we set out to run errands and take care of some business with my two kids and the baby in tow.

This was my moment to shine. I felt like I was back in the zone. I dutifully packed the diaper bag, refilling his water cup, adding snacks and checking for diapers and wipes. Meanwhile, my girlfriend got my children out the door and into the car. Everybody was belted, buckled and ready to go.

We pulled out the driveway proudly, slapping high fives at our teamwork!

We were halfway to our destination before I realized I left the superbly packed diaper bag in the house!

So there we were out for a long day with a one year old, with no diapers, no snacks, no nothing! Oy!

Watching (and laughing at) my own mommy blunders reminded me how tough parenting can be in the early years. Now I remember why we rejoice at the end of our diaper days, the end of our dependence on wipes, butt creams, changing pads and more baby gear than one human being can manage. I am very happy to be past those years.

On the other hand, there's a specialness of those early years that can never be duplicated. I miss the amazing bond and comfort I enjoyed while breastfeeding--I could totally understand why that little man did not want to go to sleep without it.

But when he did finally doze off, and I watched him sleeping peacefully, I was reminded of the calm that only a baby can bring over you. The joy of motherhood. I saw my own son, little Michael, just four years ago, when I used to stare in wonderment as he slept. I saw this baby as a future strong black man, and myself as part of his "village" that will help mold and shape him. (His mom is certainly part of the village that raises my children).

I saw everything that is beautiful about motherhood.

Hope.

Promise.

And endless possibilities.

A National Day of Dialogue on Domestic Violence and Teen Dating Abuse

Last week, I was invited to Liz Claiborne's "It's Time to Talk Day" --a national day of dialogue on domestic violence and teen dating abuse, where leading voices come together for a day of radio and blogging about an issue that doesn’t get enough talk time. (Learn more at www.loveisnotabuse.org)

 

I couldn't help but feel a bit emotionally spent dealing with such a heavy and important issue. But there is another area of domestic violence that rarely gets discussed—domestic violence during pregnancy.  

 

It is estimated that one in five women will be abused during pregnancy. What’s worse, homicide during pregnancy now surpasses the previous leading causes of death (automobile accidents and falls), for pregnant women.

 

It is more important than ever that we know the signs of domestic violence and start talking about these issues in our community. 

 

Enter activist and philanthropist Malaak Compton Rock. The wife of my favorite comedian, Chris Rock, takes service very seriously (check out her many projects at http://www.angelrockproject.com/) .

 

But last week Malaak and I had a candid conversation about domestic violence in the Black community. And I think all black women and black men need to listen: 

 

Kimberly: How is domestic violence different for us?

Malaak: "The silence is killing us. I think the white community has done a good job showing that domestic violence is not a poor woman's problem. They have changed the face of domestic violence to show that educated, career women suffer as well. We haven't. "

 

Kimberly: I think that if you are "successful" and you have that positive black family image going on, there’s even more pressure to keep up that appearance and not break up another black family.

 

Malaak: “You're right. There's a lot of fear of breaking up the family, and we need more affluent women to come out of the closet. There is a fear that I'm alone. We have to take the stigma out of the issue and add more faces and voices to that pain. I think it needs to start in Black magazines and even websites like yours.”

 

Kimberly: What can our men do?

,

Malaak: "I will tell you this, my husband is very aware of how he treats me because he knows our two daughters are learning how to be treated by a man by his dealings with me. It all starts in the home. Fathers need to be involved with their daughters, teaching them what they deserve and should expect in any future relationship."

 

Kimberly: That's powerful.

Malaak: "I know this, women who are strong, confident and secure in who they are were raised by fathers who instilled that into them."

 

Even though our community has disproportionately high levels of single female-headed households, we can’t get around how important our black men are to saving our communities, our babies and ourselves.

Single and Pregnant: Telling My Story

 I've committed my life to talking about Black women having a "fabulous" and powerful pregnancy, but to be honest, there was nothing fabulous about how my pregnancy journey began.

It was the summer right before I was to begin the Knight Bagehot Fellowship and do my Master's at Columbia University and I went to London to spend the summer with my girlfriends and my new British boyfriend. Well, let's just say I came home with more than just a hankering for tea and biscuits.

We were both shocked and it was a heavy burden for a relatively new relationship. When I told my parents, my father cried. Even though I was 29, on my own and with a very successful career, it was a big family disappointment for where others saw my life going. When you are put on a pedestal, any fall is always a harder fall.

Then I got the phone call. Weeks after coming to New York for my first prenatal visit, my baby-daddy (who, just to keep you confused, I later married and am now divorcing) called to say that he couldn't deal with an unplanned pregnancy, he was confused, yadda yadda yadda . . . he's out of there. The next time I would see him, my daughter was 11 months old.

At this point in my life, I redefined loneliness. I had lost my deepest friendships, was disfellowshipped from my religious community, I had been abandoned by my child's father, my mother (because of her religious beliefs) was not able to support me, and I was in one of the most challenging fellowship programs there is. I cried every day for weeks. No seriously, every day.

And because I suffer from "Strong Black Woman" syndrome and like many of you, wear the reputation of the entire black race on my back, I refused to tell any of the truly wonderful people in my fellowship program that I had become another black statistic: Unwed mother. Absent father. Instead, I launched a black male PR campaign full of stories of his involvement, excitement, and "sorry, you just missed him" visits. Geesh!! How exhausting! (Btw, when I finally came clean with them several months later, they were the most supportive bunch ever!)

My sister said that as a "student" I could probably income qualify for WIC to help with the high prices of healthy food in New York City. And I will never, ever forget the day I walked to 125th Street and into that Harlem office and got WIC. (That is another blog!)

But I knew this baby only had me. And I was scared as hell. I knew I had pretty much no one to count on to help me through this pregnancy but myself. And so I began to research everything. In my researching to save my sanity and help my baby, I stumbled upon the sobering statistics about black women and our high rates of low birth weight and pre term pregnancies that inspired me to write my first book, The Mocha Manual to a Fabulous Pregnancy years later.

With the help of some great new friends, a few old ones, my sister and a lot of prayer, I survived the darkest period of my life and still had a "fabulous" pregnancy. Having a "fabulous" pregnancy is all about your mind set and nothing about your circumstance. I finished my coursework early, delivered Kayla on schedule and walked down the aisle with her in my arms to receive my Master's Degree a few weeks later. I was able to have a successful freelance career, buy a new car, get a great apartment and stay home with my little one. And I never asked for a dime (or pence) from her father. She is still my Triumph Baby.

Do you have a triumph baby? Did you overcome your circumstances to still have a "fabulous" pregnancy? I'd love to hear your story.

Pregnancy and Swine Flu. Get Answers.

Outside of the medical community, every mama, auntie or Big Mama in your family, neighborhood or church has their own old wives tale about what to do and what not to do during pregnancy.

If that weren't enough, the recent spate of H1N1/ swine flu is a real concern for everyone especially mothers of young children and pregnant women. Who should get the vaccine? Is the seasonal flu vaccine just as effective? What's in the vaccine? You see, a lot of questions.

The CDC has recommended that healthy pregnant women get vaccinated against the seasonal flu. Yet new data shows that only 20% of those who are currently pregnant plan to get a flu vaccine this season. I'm sure that number is much higher among black women.

What gives?

Well, for one, let's face it, our community tends to distrust the medical field anyway and the government runs a close second. And the internet is full of so called experts, scary stories and more, it's hard to know what is correct and what is potentially harmful.

To help, the Association of Women's Health, Obstetric and Neonatal Nurses (AWHONN) and the National Women's Health Resource Center (NWHRC) have launched a new campaign, "Flu-Free and A Mom-to-Be: Protect Yourself, Protect Your Baby -- Get a Flu Shot!." The "Flu-Free and A Mom-to-Be" campaign aims to educate health care providers and their patients about the importance of both the seasonal flu and the H1N1 vaccines. You can check it out here, and download helpful information.

 

If you are looking for a safe place to ask questions, get live answers and talk to other parents, please click here to register for a free webinar on Thursday, November 19th at 8pm. The webinar is open to everyone and co-hosted by Heart and Soul magazine and MochaManual.com, my online parenting community.

 

The chat will feature two leading specialists from the American Academy of Pediatrics who will lead an open discussion and Q and A. Dr. Renee Jenkins, is chair of the Department of Pediatrics and Child Health at Howard University and immediate past president of The American Academy of Pediatrics. Dr. Meg Fisher is a pediatric infectious disease specialist and chair of the infectious disease section of the Academy. Both of these amazing women are committed to giving our community the answers they need to make their own decisions.

Get all the info you need to protect yourself and keep you, your growing baby or newborn infant healthy. You owe your little one that much.

Seeing My Slave Roots: Thinking of the Mothers Before Me

Staring at the computer screen, I could barely make out the letters. But I will never forget what I heard. "These are likely the slave owners of your second great grandfather."

The very nice researcher from Ancestry.com had warned me when we sat down that she may have found some slave connections, but I figured, of course you would.

But staring at the Census report from 1900 and seeing the nearly illegible names felt a lot different than I expected. My mind was numb but my body had goose bumps.

Back then the Census was purely door to door. There was a large white family with sizable land listed as next door to my ancestors. And then I saw it, Phillip Billy, born in 1861 and his wife, Hagar, born in 1865. My second great grandparents on my mother's side.

And since there were no integrated neighborhoods back then, the fact that they are listed on the same street probably means that the family listed above Phillip and Hagar were likely their slaveowners--as it was gently explained to me. I stared hard at the handwriting but didn't bother to try to figure out the name. It started with an M.

The discovery was part of a mommy blogger day I attended recently hosted by Ancestry.com. A truly great experience in beautiful Salt Lake City! But as the only African American at the event, I couldn't help but notice my experience was very different from everyone else. There were plenty of stories from the staff of finding long lost ancestors in ship records, Ellis Island records, and in other countries. People were finding third and fourth great grandparents and other amazing ancestral connections. My discovery was a lot more sobering.

And the truth is, African Americans just can't trace their roots so easily. There are no records for our existence because we were not considered human beings.

If you really want to dig, the researcher also said, sometimes you can find slaves listed in the wills of landowners, often bequeathed behind cattle and other beasts of burden, she said. And because slaves could be killed for learning to read or write we were unable to document our own existence.

There was so much that I couldn't find, but was hoping to discover. I hoped to return with great stories to tell my children. That really didn't happen.

What I did find was generations of ancestors who could not read or write. Their children could not read or write. I found young babies who were listed in one year's Census but missing from the next count--they likely died. I saw large families of six or seven children of very young mothers. I saw ancestors who were only 8 years old but listed as working farmhands.

I wondered what it was like for those mothers whose babies died too soon and whose children were forced to work instead of learn. I thought about the "broken relationships" that researchers now believe contribute to poor birth outcomes today among Black women and whether these are a lingering legacy of slavery.

A report by the Joint Center Health Policy Institute called "The Courage To Love," contends that the problems of infant mortality and poor maternal nutrition are, in essence, problems of broken relationships at many levels. These broken relationships range from broken families, lack of support for breastfeeding, the decline in family meals, and the marketing of junk foods to children.

"These broken relationships create lifelong conditions of high stress and low support, which in turn pattern physiological, psychological, and behavioral responses that put the mother at risk for poor, nutrition during pregnancy, and her baby at risk for fetal and infant death. African American families are disproportionately affected by these broken relationships, which contribute to disparities in maternal nutrition and infant mortality," the report says.

In the end the report recommends that "any efforts to reduce maternal and infant mortality and morbidity must focus on the repair and support of relationships at all levels and across the life course."

The black mothers before us didn't have such insight. There was no research into their unique experience or examination of why their babies were dying. Generations later, Black mothers are still fighting for healthy babies. We now have a better understanding of why. Let's hope this insight leads to real action.