04/12/2026
My pregnancies were vastly different when I decided to take my care into my own hands. During my first pregnancy, I was unheard in what I felt was going on in MY body. This resulted in an early induction that ended in c-section. The second time around, I chose a provider that worked with me and for me. I educated myself and took the lead in decision making. I truly believe this opened the door for me to have a vaginal birth and I’ve taken the same steps as I welcome my 3rd baby in just a few more weeks.
5 things they don’t tell you about being Black and pregnant 🤎✨
🖤 You become your own biggest advocate — spiritually, emotionally, and physically.
There comes a quiet knowing in your spirit that says speak up, ask again, trust yourself. Even when your voice shakes, even when you’re tired. You are not asking for too much — you are asking to be cared for.
🖤 Joy and fear can live in the same body.
There is sacred joy in feeling your baby move, in dreaming about who they’ll be… and at the same time, a heaviness that lingers in the background. Both are real. Both deserve space. Neither takes away from your love.
🖤 Your body is not just yours — it is ancestral.
Your womb carries stories, resilience, wisdom. You are walking with generations of Black women who have birthed before you. You are never alone, even in the quiet moments.
🖤 Being truly seen in care matters more than people realize.
It’s not just about appointments and checklists — it’s about feeling safe, heard, and honored. When that’s missing, your body knows. When it’s present, your whole being softens.
🖤 You are meant to be held, not just get through it.
Pregnancy isn’t something you’re supposed to survive — it’s something you deserve to be supported through. Community, sisterhood, and nurturing care aren’t extras… they are medicine.
Black mamas deserve softness.
We deserve protection.
We deserve to be listened to the first time.
And above all — we deserve to bring life into this world feeling safe, supported, and deeply held. 🤍✨
CompassionateCare