Jordyn’s Birth Story

attachment parenting, Women's Health

I realized earlier today that I hadn’t shared Jordyn’s birth yet. It always takes me a long to get around to it just because I need to come down from all the excitement of having a new baby.

The Stats:

Jordyn Olivia Reign

Weight: 7.1 lbs

Length: 20 inches

Time: 5:55am

Date: 03/06/2018

So with Jordyn I had contractions for about two weeks and I was super uncomfortable during that period. So I spend most of those days resting when I wasn’t working. I also did my doula training during that time. I was really excited about it and it was something that I didn’t want to miss, so I tried to stay as chill as possible so I could make it to the training. The following week (week 37) I picked up shifts at work and I wound up working a double that Saturday. That’s when the contractions started to pick up but they were still too far apart for me to go into the birth center. So the next day we had dinner with my dad and I just relaxed… the contractions were a consistent seven minutes apart and had increased in intensity but never got closer together. On Monday the contractions were the same, so we spent the day cleaning just to be on the safe side. We didn’t want to bring baby home to our house in disarray. We went to my moms to wash laundry and walk the dog around the neighborhood, and I also made a request for my mom to make crab salad. I knew that day was going to be the day because I was particularly moody. I had gotten upset because a girl the grocery store commented on my size 😒 anyways I walked at least a mile around the neighborhood and spent the rest of our stay on the birth ball. I almost felt like the contractions were slowing down at that point.

So we went home and I ate some spicy ramen noodles and participated in extra curricular activities in an effort to get the contractions going again 😂 I took a hot shower and shaved my legs because I KNEW Jordyn was coming soon. I laid down and tried to watch tv but I was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. So I took a Tylenol and went to sleep. I would wake up periodically to go to the bathroom and looking back I think the contractions were waking me up and I was so tired that I didn’t notice. Around 4am I woke up because I realized I was in pain longer than I was getting actual sleep, then I got the urge to get on my hands and knees to relieve the pressure I was feeling. My husband sat straight up and looked at me and said “it’s time to go isn’t it?”. I got out of bed and got dressed between contractions which were coming about every 3-4 minutes at this point. My husband got the boys dressed and called my mom and the midwife. He raced us to my mothers and dropped the boys off with her and we got on the road. By the time we were out of my moms neighborhood the contractions had already sped up to two minutes apart and the birth center was at least 55 minutes away. I turned on the seat warmer and leaned the seat back in an effort to slow them down.

While I was still in a manageable amount of pain I sent out messages letting everyone know it was time. I played Rihanna on the way there as an ode to my own little Pisces and it put me in the perfect mind state for labor. Shortly after changing the music I started to get hot and nauseous, I assume I was transitioning because my contractions were on top of each other at this point. I cracked the window and told my husband I felt as though my bag of waters were bulging, so he called the midwives again to let them know that they should be prepared for us. Before completing the phone call my water broke! I had about five more contractions and I felt the urge to push, my husband tried to discourage me from doing so as we were only five minutes away from the birth center but I couldn’t help it. He called the midwives for a third time to explain what was going on and they assured him that they would be ready for us. I immediately took my pants off and hoisted myself over the seat and pushed…. and I felt her head, I was preparing to push again when I remember one of my doula sisters advising against pushing. So instead I started breathing Jordyn out and with each breath she came. I heard her whimper and whine a bit, and I told my husband that she was here.

Now I had never seen my husband cry before that night, he was overwhelmed with both joy and worry. He was literally my calm in the storm because he kept driving through all of that and got us to the birth center. He pulled up and ran straight to the door, where he discovered they were NOT ready for us. Luckily I had already done the hard part. He had the bring me a wheel chair and help me out the car, he put on my shoes and covered me up, then they wheeled me inside.

Although her arrival was chaotic my experience was amazing up until that point. We arrived at the birthing center to find that the midwife I had issues with before was on call. She wasn’t prepared for our arrival despite the fact that we called several times, she had zero regards for my dignity when taking me inside. Had my husband not been there they probably would have wheeled me inside bare footed and bare assed. After getting us into the birthing suite she wouldn’t let me sit on the bed because she was unsure if they would be keeping me and she didn’t want to be bothered with changing the sheets again. And then she tried to pull my placenta out instead of allowing me to birth it myself. Although I was visibly uncomfortable she ignored my concerns.

God had a plan by having me give birth before arriving because I can only imagine what things would have been like had she been with me during the labor and delivery process. I got to do things my way, and I had a level of confidence that I wouldn’t have had otherwise. A great deal of that confidence can be attributed to my girl squad, old and new members. They truly made me feel like I was capable of anything and there was no doubt that I could deliver that baby myself.

Jordy is clearly a special little girl 😍😍😍

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Saving Our Sons

Social Justice, Uncategorized

Part of my daily routine consist of waking up and checking my social media accounts and scrolling through a few articles or blogs. So this morning I laid in bed scrolling my Facebook feed when I found myself FUMING! I’m not being dramatic either, my husband literally shifted away from me because my body temperature began to rise. As I was scrolling I landed on a status from a black woman with son’s of her own who stated Jordan Edwards and his friends had gotten what they deserved/earned because of what she read in a poorly written news article claiming they attempted to run over a police officer. Whether they did so or not is neither here nor there because making a mistake (a poor choice) DOES NOT MEAN YOU DESERVE A DEATH SENTENCE.

As a mother it’s hard enough to hear my children suffer for any reason, may it be while getting vaccines or falling down. It literally breaks my heart every time. So imagine being his friend in the car with him that night.

Your friend has been shot, he’s probably choking on blood, in pain, dying, and maybe calling to God or even his own mother. While you listen and watch, there’s nothing you can do for him. I would like to hope that he didn’t have to suffer, although his friends are suffering now and they will be forever changed by this experience.

Part of my calling is to protect women and children, but I have no patience or tolerance for a woman that would speak of children that way. Because he was in fact a child, maybe a child that made a bad choice (which I doubt because we all know the police likes to victim blame in order to paint their own story). We already know that black children are perceived as bigger, more mature, and more violent than they actually are so being black was enough of a weapon for them to be shot at.

As mothers, even as human beings, how can you justify shooting into a car of children? I want my  children to have the luxury of doing normal things, I want them to have the luxury of being children. Instead society is forcing them into adulthood. Calling them grown men and women, and hypersexualizing their bodies. I have to protect these babies before I can ever protect the women victim blaming.

You can’t truly be about this cause when your focus is based on being the correct kind of black person. Stop pandering to white people and their approval, that shit will not save your life.

White approval is not a bullet proof vest.

Rest In Power Jordan.

Demonizing Motherhood

attachment parenting, Social Justice, Women's Health

In the last few weeks/months we’ve seen a plethora of celebrity pregnancy announcements and pregnancy photo shoots. Women like Beyonce, Ciara, Blac Chyna, and Serena. All have been beautiful!!!! Yet I continue to find myself falling down the rabbit hole called “the comment section”. I can hear yall now…. “No…. don’t EVER read the comments!”. I already know this, but since I’ve done it, I may as well vent.

Never in my life have I seen so many folks hate on the miracle that is “giving life”. After noticing this in the comment sections, I began to see it in real life and realizing it applied even to my own life. Black people are quick to tell you not to have any more children no matter your circumstances, even villify you for having more than to, or go so far as to scare you away from the thought of child birth.

So here we are again, black folks policing one another for doing something as normal as being pregnant and giving birth.

Please explain to me, why are we like this?

I found myself guilty of hiding my pregnancy from those close to me and my community, at the risk of gossip and chatter. I didn’t announce that I was pregnant with Jojo until I literally had no choice. I was 30 weeks pregnant and back in my hometown where I knew someone would eventually see me. I tried to get pregnant and we planned this baby, yet I felt shame! We have programmed ourselves to be embarrassed about natural things.

If people like Ciara, Beyonce, Blac Chyna, and Serena are slandered at every turn for getting pregnant (all under various circumstances, not that it should matter anyway), what hope is there for average folks like us? Ciara was ripped to shreds by black men and women alike for her photo shoot with new husband and toddler, Beyonce accused of blasphemy and glorifying what pregnancy is/should be, Blac Chyna was called every name under the sun including a gold digging bitch, and Serena somehow hates herself and got pregnant out wedlock (all in the same sentence).

Someone explain to me why we hate ourselves so much, why do we hate the thought of our sisters bringing life into this world. Why is it so hard to believe that we might equate ourselves to goddesses for being able to sustain another life? We are doing things that are at the very root of who we are and what our bodies are made for and people hate us for it. It’s disgusting to say the very minimum. I can’t say that I’m very surprised either, I’ve expressed my disappointment in black men in previous post… They slander us at every turn and are silent when we need them. Yes, I still see you. Pretend revolutionaries, if you tear down your women… You are tearing down the base of your so-called revolution.

There is a literal criminalization of black mothers in the justice department, if something happens to our children we are directly at fault. Even if its at the hands of another, but God forbid we are pregnant and happy about it… we are heathens for that as well. Having immediate access to videos of our husbands, brothers, sisters, and children gunned down in the streets is a form of reproductive injustice. Black women are literally afraid to have children. Even with this reality, women are attempting to celebrate these moments and OTHER BLACK PEOPLE WANT TO RIP THIS MOMENT FROM THEM!

Stop it, stop contributing to the Jezebel, welfare queen, single mother rhetoric and start celebrating these women. Celebrate normal everyday women along with the celebrities. Stop judging women for doing things that are natural and normal. Don’t you dare comment on how many children a black woman has, don’t ask if they are done, don’t tell your horrific birth stories, don’t do any of it. We are already victims of sexism AND racism, don’t contribute to it. Misogynoir is real, and if you don’t know what it is, look it up.

It’s time to start celebrating our womanhood.

Battle of the pants

attachment parenting

Day One of Toddler Home School:
         Toddler home schooling was something I planned to start on Monday but due to the busy week so far (home inspections and a ten hour work shift) I couldn’t commit until today. Let me just say that it has been truly horrible to say the least, well the start was anyway. I tried to get Micah up and dressed to get us into the mind set of being productive, when that battle proved to be futile I bargained that we go for a walk to start the day. Which sounded amazing to me because I was already starting to feel defeated! So this peaked his interest and he started to get dressed, this is an area that he’s still working on especially putting on pants. Then he amazes me and puts the pants on the correct way but the struggle comes with pulling them up, and he just breaks down. COMPLETELY breaks down like his world is falling apart. So this ensues a whole new battle, The Battle of the Pants. While this chaos takes place my husband just ignores it, the ultimate salt in the wound. If I’m going to commit to this I need to feel supported, this is something he doesn’t quite understand. Anyways, I finally just freak out along with Micah and dress him myself because I cant take the screaming anymore. Which genuinely makes me feel bad because I pride myself on being a gentle and loving parent because I am in reality a highly sensitive being and that kind of out burst burns me out, and I remember how I felt to have my parents assume that I needed tough love when in fact I needed support and understanding. So nonetheless in an effort to salvage our already sinking ship I grab some water for the two of us and pack Micah into the stroller and we take off. The goal today was two miles, I made it to .75 before I started to fall apart. My groin was killing me, I’m sure it was just round ligament pain like usual but it was so bad that I felt like I couldn’t turn around and walk home. So I text my husband to come pick us up but continue limp and push the stroller home just in case we bumped into him along the way. Then he never came, and I limped all the way home to lick my wounds. So my attempt to get our day on track only made our day inherently worse, because now I was in pain AND pissed off. But at this point Micah was in a much better mood and ready to get down to business, I’m sure this was his attempt at saving mommy’s pride. So we sat down at my desk and worked on numbers in his work book, just 1-10 (counting them and writing them). He also had enough momentum going to count a few objects as well (1-5) and read a circus counting book. After all that I’m sure he started to feel a little burnt out because he just wanted to snuggle and read his library books, which I had no objection to. So Micah and I read three books together, which I added to his summer reading log. Then we moved on to lunch, which was significantly less traumatic than the rest of our day., today’s menu called for grilled cheese and soup. Our day has completely turned around at this point but it doesn’t stop me from wanting to be a surly feral cat the rest of the day, but if Micah (an irrational two year old) can fix his attitude I’m sure I can adjust mine.
         I really don’t want to put too much pressure on him to work so he’s probably done for today, maybe some more reading at his leisure at most. We also managed to go until lunch time without television! He’s now watching Go Diego while eating (I guess we’ll supplement this as science!). Hopefully he’ll be ready to lay down for a nap after his lunch/tv time. I just hope that these days become increasingly easier because today all I could think about was whether or not I was short changing him by taking him out of daycare and if I could teach him enough to prepare him pre-school and kindergarten. I do know that in order for us to have a productive day we need to start our day earlier with a light breakfast (coffee for me) and a light walk just to get us in the learning mind set and relax a little. Getting time outside is personally one of the most important parts of my day and I know that I’ve passed that on to Micah as well. So I need to indulge in that even if we need to accommodate the desert heat. A regular schedule could also serve us pretty well too, making going through the transitions of the day a little easier and keeping the two of us on track.
         There will definitely be an update on our tricks and tweaks to perfecting this home school deal to fit us.