As a Black woman, the prospect of pregnancy fills me with fear. At 34 years old, two and a half years into my marriage, I find myself grappling with societal expectations to start a family. While friends and coworkers around me are announcing their pregnancies, I feel an overwhelming reluctance to consider it for myself. It’s not that I don’t want children; it’s that I’m terrified. Terrified that I might not survive the pregnancy, and even more so, that my child may not make it either. While these thoughts may haunt many prospective parents, the statistics tell a chilling story that weighs heavily on my mind.
My husband and I share the usual concerns about finances and family support, but we also face unique challenges as an interracial couple. We ponder how to teach our future children about their dual heritage, balancing the complexities of being both Black and White. While these thoughts are significant, they pale in comparison to the fears that stem from my race.
The Chilling Statistics
When we first considered pregnancy after our honeymoon in 2017, I was struck by a statistic that revealed Black women are 243% more likely to die from pregnancy-related complications than their White counterparts. Each year, maternal mortality rates in the U.S. worsen, with Black women facing the harshest realities. Recent studies indicate that for every 100,000 births, 40 Black women die compared to just 12 White women. High-profile cases like those of celebrities Serena Williams and Beyoncé, who have shared their traumatic childbirth experiences, leave me questioning my own fate.
Personal Experiences and Fears
My past medical experiences have not been encouraging. I have voiced my pain in hospital settings, only to be dismissed or belittled. I can’t help but dread the thought of being in labor, desperately trying to convey my pain to a team of medical professionals who may not take me seriously. And with my husband being White, I wonder if he would be granted more attention than I would during such a critical time. The injustice of it all is infuriating.
Consider the story of Marcus Thompson, who lost his wife, Kira, shortly after the birth of their second child. Kira was healthy, had prior experience with childbirth, and had expressed her concerns, yet her fears were ignored by her medical team. Tragically, she passed away, prompting Marcus to advocate for the Preventing Maternal Deaths Act. This is a harsh reality that makes the thought of starting a family seem insurmountable for me.
Taking a Step Back
After contemplating these issues, my husband and I decided to table the idea of having children for a while longer. We traveled to Costa Rica, where my OBGYN advised us to avoid pregnancy for six months due to the Zika virus. As that period comes to a close, I am again confronted with alarming information: Black premature babies face lower survival rates compared to their White, Hispanic, or Asian counterparts. The systemic racism and neglect in healthcare are appalling and disheartening.
Feeling Isolated in My Fears
Amidst all this, my friends and colleagues celebrate their pregnancies, seemingly unfazed by the fears I wrestle with. I can’t shake the reality that my chances of surviving pregnancy are significantly lower, and my child’s odds may not be much better.
Seeking Connection
Is there anyone else grappling with these fears? How does one navigate the daunting uncertainties of pregnancy and parenthood in today’s world? If you’re interested in exploring more about pregnancy and parenting, check out this link to learn about home insemination kits, which might provide some insight. For further reading on the experiences of new parents, don’t miss this post on hilarious signs you’re absolutely a new parent. Also, for a deeper dive into the topic of pregnancy, the Genetics and IVF Institute is an excellent resource.
Conclusion
In summary, my fears about pregnancy are deeply rooted in the statistics and stories surrounding maternal health for Black women. The challenges I face are not just personal but reflective of a systemic issue that affects many. The journey towards parenthood feels fraught with uncertainty, and I wonder how others cope with similar fears.