It’s honesty hour.

I didn’t want my babies…

Before people start offering unsolicited opinions about how children are a blessing, and shame me for speaking my truth, let’s be clear. My body is mine. I’ve chosen to birth and love my children. They are the most beautiful creations that I have been fortunate enough to cultivate. But I would be lying if I said adjusting to the idea of becoming the vessel by which they enter the world is not a frightening, anxiety triggering experience that often leaves me thinking, (sometimes yelling out loud), “WHAT THE FUCK DID I DO?!”

Getting pregnant was not exactly an “accident.” My husband and I had discussed starting a family prior to our marriage and we were well acquainted with the “birds and the bees,” or whatever that means. However, we did not anticipate that we would conceive our first child(ren) so quickly after our wedding. Our wedding ceremony took place in June. I was pregnant by July and it was confirmed in September.


When I saw the positive at-home pregnancy test, I cried tears of joy and disbelief. I was spellbound by the magic of the female body; it’s ability to hold and give life. That enchantment dissipated during our first prenatal visit. I stared at the ultrasound image, refusing to believe what was in front of me. There were clearly two little alien tadpole creatures on the screen…TWO…NOT ONE….TWO. My heart sank. My face became blistering hot. Everything around me moved in slow motion. The sonographer looked at me with a huge smile that I felt pressured to return, when really I was thinking, “Ain’t shit happy about this situation!” I saw dollar signs begin floating away from me as I started roughly calculating what these two little beings would cost us and all I thought was…. “FUCK.”

How was I going to afford two babies?

How can I protect two black girls?

How do I teach them to be kind and compassionate in a world that may not show them the same kindness and compassion?

How do I willingly bring two black girls into the world knowing that it will one day hurt them?

How do I make our home a sanctuary where they can breathe, dream and frolic in their fairy dust?


I am now seven months pregnant and I don’t have the answers to these questions.

I’m still afraid. I still question whether or not I’m ready to be a mother. The truth is, I will never be ready and that’s ok. There will always be chaos outside our door. And someday they will have to face it without me. My mother reminded me, our bloodline has survived many wars, most of which were waged on us. We are still here. So what have I to fear?

This transition will not be sunshine and rainbows but it will be magical. I plan to savor every giggle, every smile, every ounce of joy that we are able to squeeze out of this relentless world. Whenever I begin to question whether I made the right decision by continuing this pregnancy, I feel them move inside me. I am overcome with an unmatched feeling of love. I cannot wait to meet my daughters.

Till next time….Peace and Love.

7 replies on “motherhood and other foul words

  1. I am in awe of the woman you are today and the mother you will become. I am humbled by your honesty and candor. You are the original black fairy. Your daughters will be glorious, for they are your children. Love you!! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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