Complications

Content trigger warning: Third trimester pregnancy complications / fetal distress. 

Yesterday we woke up to our very first morning in our new temporary home. I (safely) met with our architect, tackled my Monday work agenda, and felt flushed with relief over the opportunity to finally settle into a new routine that would allow me more moments with West, and dedicated time to better experience my third trimester. 

Above: Photo from my first trimester in Venice.

By evening, I was in an ambulance being transferred from one hospital to another due to pregnancy complications after realizing how drastically my baby’s fetal movements had decreased during the previous, hectic days. 

The initial test results weren’t good news, but thankfully they’ve since improved somewhat. The main issues stem from certain fetal growth complications. But I’m relieved that I believed my body when it told me something just wasn’t right, and that I then had the option of seeking medical help.

My family is now navigating our way through waves of vast worry and uncertainty, but we’re doing so with optimism and hope. Adam and I believe that our unborn child is resilient and knows what to do. And we have faith in the numerous professionals who have provided me and the baby with exceptional medical care thus far. 

I’m not sharing this because it feels better to do so— it doesn’t. It feels too personal, and too terrifying to type out these words with sleepless eyes and shaky hands from a hospital bed. And it causes my family to further sink into some of the potential, unthinkable outcomes that have been outlined for us in stark terms. Instead, I’m sharing this to acknowledge the immense privilege I’m experiencing, even in the midst of gut-wrenching panic. 

Meaningful and tangible support is not provided for all pregnant women when it’s needed most. Systemic and interpersonal racism in America have lead to disparities in maternity care that result in a higher risk of complications and death for Black women and women of color. We are not powerless to help rectify this issue. Our voices matter, independently and collectively, so let’s get + stay vocal about the fact that equitable care must be accessible for all. Our elected officials are meant to represent us, so let’s champion those who support anti-racist policies that are geared towards a safer existence for women and children of color from conception through all stages of life.

Become familiar with your reps — I need to get to know ours now that we’ve just moved, and visit Every Mother Counts for more information and ways to take action. 

... And if you have a moment, please hurl a powerful, positive thought skyward for our little one. I certainly feel this community’s love and strength, so maybe that means my baby will, too. 

Update: I’ve never felt more buttressed by community than I did this week. I cannot thank you enough for your support, which the baby must have felt as well. We were able to leave the hospital, and we did so as one - outcomes that initially seemed unlikely. From the depths of my heart, thank you.