/8 Birth Stories From Black Moms Thatll Make You Ugly-Cry

8 Birth Stories From Black Moms Thatll Make You Ugly-Cry

“It was May 24, her due date, and she still was not here. The child we had prayed, planned, and impatiently waited for was taking her sweet time. I did everything in my locus of control to help her enter this Earth, but she didn’t budge (and she still does things on her own time, lol). My consolation? My doctor reminding me she can’t stay in there forever.

“Every day after her due date, I thought, today is surely the day. I hit 41 weeks and still my sweet baby girl had not arrived. I had read enough articles, blogs, and heard all the stories about the horrors of being induced. As I tried to remain calm, I tried to remain focused on simply giving birth to a healthy baby.

“Another week had passed and still no baby. On June 1, I checked into the hospital and my induction process began. You name it, they tried it all on me. They swept my membranes, they tried Cervidil and at last, Pitocin. June 2 rolled around, 24 hours of pain, discomfort, constant praying, and hoping had passed and I had not progressed past 2 centimeters of dilation.

“I decided no way in hell did I carry this blessing for what was more than 10 months to risk losing her in the next two days because I didn’t want to be cut open. I took a deep breath, called a couple of relatives who are medical doctors, spoke to my parents, and prayed. Thirty minutes after mustering up the courage and trusting my doctor to cut through my skin, fat, fascia tissue, abdominal muscles, a couple layers of peritoneum and move my bladder and intestines to slice through my uterus, he removed my little girl from her amniotic sac. Her cry was the beginning of what remains my most ‘prideful beginning’ and is exactly what her name means: Ure, meaning pride in my Igbo language, and Genesis, meaning the beginning.”

Nwamaka Unaka

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