Today I thought about a comment my mom made to my sister and I years ago while driving to our aunt’s house to drop us off before going to work. We were arguing with each other in the back seat, when my mom yelled at us to stop and said, “I almost died giving both to
I thought she was lying to get us to stop fighting. You can’t die giving birth, I thought. I had no concept of women dying while giving birth. Pregnancy and birth are supposed to be a joyous occasion for many, and the thought of growing up without her was something I didn’t want to endure.
When I wrote “How My Mother’s Death Makes me Fear Motherhood” in 2011, I was 28 years old, 15 years away from the age my mother was when she died. Now in my thirties and roughly 8 years away from that pivotal age, several of my friends are now experiencing parental loss, particularly their mothers.
I’m at a point in my motherless daughter journey where the pain, anger, and denial are not as intense as they were at age 17 when my mom died, yet there are moments where I feel my mom’s absence more now than I did back then.
Some of the reasons I gave for my fear of motherhood ran the gamut from not wanting to live up to the societal expectation that all women aspire to be mothers to dying prematurely before my child becomes an adult.
While I still believe that holding a puppy is more fun than holding a baby, I don’t necessarily fear motherhood in the ways I did back in 2011. Due to a shift in recent years of me working more with client organizations that work at the intersections of maternal health and racial justice, my thoughts have shifted more towards an earnest interest in maternal health and the complexities that come with it.
As incredulous as I felt then about pregnant women dying during childbirth, I have to remind myself now that it does occur. And it scares me more than my sister and I could have grown up without our mother rather than her dying before we became adults.
The comment my mom made was such a fleeting moment that now I wished I had asked her more about it. What were the causes and/or conditions she had that put her at risk for dying during childbirth?
Did she believe she got adequate prenatal care but that the stress of birthing two babies exacerbated the process? Did she feel that her race, age, class, or another variable prevented her from getting the care she needed? She also had hypertension towards the end of her life. Was that a factor then?
I also notice that I have never seen a picture of my mother during pregnancy. There’s an infamous picture of my mom wearing a red and white outfit while pregnant with us, but I have yet to see that image. Does this mean that she didn’t like how she looked while pregnant?
The more questions I have, the more curious I become, and the sadder I feel. Maybe one day I’ll build up the confidence to ask my mom’s family and close friends.
Raise Your Voice: Have your thoughts on motherhood changed over the years? Share below in the comments section.
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