Sada's Story of Birth and Loss

I lost my mom when I needed her the most... There. I’ve finally admitted it. And this is the first time I have. I’ve lost count of how many drafts I’ve started to share my story but I think this will be the last one. The grieving process is such an indescribable journey and it’s a journey that I’ve chosen to navigate internally. Releasing what I can to God and no one else. I’ve made the decision to be strong...like my mother. People keep telling me I don’t have to be strong, but I want to be. My mother was the queen of telling me to “get it together” and I love being able to be a strong woman, standing tall in the midst of pain, just like my mother did during her battle with cancer. That strength that she had, is in me. And it makes me feel good to know that I’m strong like her. It keeps me connected. It’s what helps me get through each moment... and each day... right now. 

Not too many people knew that I was going through the happiest and saddest time of my life this year. In my opinion, I truly learned how beautiful life is and how fragile life is in the most personal way possible. I was blessed to have a life, my first child,  growing inside of my womb, all while watching the one who birthed me, fight for her life and transition from this earth. It was an experience and a season that I can’t find words to describe. But through the grace of God I’ve made it to a place of peace. And not only have I made it but I’m doing okay...

My mother passed away when I began my eighth month of pregnancy. And for the sake of my unborn child, I chose to “get it together.” I didn’t want my child to be to feel a great amount of sorrow and pain. I didn’t want my child to be born to a "sad mother."  I prayed that I didn’t experience postpartum depression and tapped into the power of supernatural strength and peace. I have a grip on it so tight and don’t plan on ever letting go. I’m able to embrace the beauty of motherhood... It makes me feel a connection with my mom.  Longing to make my mother proud, doing things that she did for me, keeps her light bright for me. Everything she taught me, Everything she showed me, I am now able to give to my son, and that makes me feel so much joy. My mother taught me that the Joy of the Lord is my strength and I’ve learned to enjoy my husband, my child, my family, my son and the memories of my mom. And because I stepped out on faith, giving myself permission to enjoy this life I’ve been blessed with, I’ve gained strength. Not only have I gained strength, but I’ve also gained Peace that passes all understanding.

I’m not claiming to have things figured out. I’m not claiming that I don’t have quiet days or moments of tears. The journey is unpredictable... I just take things one day at a time. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around this new normal, and I know it will take a lifetime. But as I grow, I’m learning about who I am as a daughter, as a sister, as a wife and as a mother. I am my mother’s legacy and I will dedicate my journey of motherhood and womanhood to her. My mother, Ileana Watson, was a bright light that brightened up many lives. And I am forever thankful that I was blessed to be her daughter. 

3 Lessons That I Have Learned, By Simply Trying

As I sit here preparing the last entry for this year, I am reminded of New Years Eve 2016, where I found myself ringing in the New Year, surrounded by friends and an impromptu sleepover, dancing with flowers in my hair with a new baby, and pressing the publish button to my second baby of the year, #NotSoPrivateParts. Fast forward one year later, It's 2:40am, and I find myself in the same place (impromptu adult sleepover included) recalling the many lessons that I've learned within this beautiful year. What a difference a year makes, indeed. I taught my first class ever, hosted a few powerful events, became a doula, and have opened up some much needed dialogue amongst women. To be honest, when I embarked upon this road of creating a platform for women to share their "Not So Private Parts", it came from a place of wanting self healing. I needed to talk and vent and release from the trauma of my miscarriage. I didn't want to go at it alone. One year later, and over 22k women have found that same safe space. One year later, what started off as simply a blog, has now evolved into a resource of information for all things women's issues. For that I am truly grateful. Truthfully, I wasn't sure what would happen after I pushed the publish button and began on this journey of being a bridge to healing, but I am so very glad that I did. I'm glad that I tried. Here are a few lessons, that I learned this year, by simply trying...

1. The obvious... You will never know unless you try. When I started #NSPP, I had just given birth less than four months prior. So here I was with this new baby. I had worked in the fashion industry for almost four years. I enjoyed my job. However, I knew that this baby was a bit different than my oldest. Or perhaps I was as well. This kid was not as chill as my oldest. I was not as young as I was when I gave birth to my oldest son. I was Breastfeeding non stop. I was exhausted. I could feel in my gut, that perhaps down the road I was going to have to make the hard decision that most parents fear making regarding work. I was afraid of going down to one income. I knew that in the event that decisions needed to be made, I didn't want to be destitute. Truthfully, after my miscarriage, the vision for creating a resource for women had been birthed prior. I could feel that it was now time to turn my purpose into my passion. However, thoughts of self doubt flooded my mind. What if no one would read my stories? What would happen if no one wanted to share their story? What if it was a complete and utter failure? I had to quickly turn it all off, and imagine the vision at hand. Sure it could have been a total flop... But what if it wasn't? I would never know, unless I tried.

2. You will always learn something new, when you simply try. This year, I have learned a lot. Between hosting events, becoming a Postpartum doula, and simply pressing the publish button, I have learned a few things. I am not tech savvy at all. I'm that annoying person who constantly asks where is the ON button for gadgets that more than likely don't possess a said "ON button." So when I began simply setting up my site, it was quite the adventure. Between the downloading and uploading, and copy and pasting, it was quite the task. But I did it anyway. When confused, I simply googled and sought out YouTube for answers. It worked. This year, I became a Postpartum doula. I wanted to learn how to support women in a tangible way outside of the #NSPP platform. I wanted to become a physical resource for mamas. I studied, read countless books, and attended multiple Doula trainings. I learned that not only could I provide support digitally, but I could become that support and work one on one with the women I would find myself already guiding. This year, I learned how to throw one heck of an event! I learned that listening to what women are in need of is so much more important than pushing your own agenda. People will tell you what they need. And when they don't, simply ask. 

3. Lastly, I learned that what I have to say is important. I often tell my kids that they are capable, worthy, and necessary. This is a mantra that is on repeat in our home. This year, I taught my first class. While preparing my lesson plan, I felt nervous. What did I have to offer? Did I have anything important to teach? Not to mention, the women whom I would be teaching with, were pretty amazing and powerful in their own right. The thought was a bit intimidating. I was scared. However, I held space for myself and the emotions of rejection and fear that accompanied the task at hand. I reminded myself that I had something to say. I reminded myself of the very thing that Jon and I teach our children... I am capable, worthy and necessary. 

With that being said, I am beyond honored to continue on this journey with you. Thank you for being a part of the 22k and counting women who have found their home here at #NSPP. I don't take it lightly. For those of you who have been vulnerable and scared and still found strength and courage to share, thank you. I see you. Thank you for trusting #NotSoPrivateParts with your story. Know that this resource was created with you in mind. Thank you, to all who have rocked with us for a year. Year 2 is going to be amazing. 
 

My Body Is Mine

When I was in sixth grade, I wanted to look like "Michelle." (Let's call her that for identity sake) She was the light skin girl with hazel eyes. She had reached puberty eons before either myself or the other little girls in our classroom. We all bowed at the throne of this girl. All the boys liked her. All the girls wanted to look like her, including myself. I remember looking down at my shirt, wanting boobs to magically appear and my body to change. I was short and lanky and dark skinned with dark eyes. Growing up, I personally liked my dark skin. However, it wasn't always celebrated. My dark skin, nose, and crooked smile were all a reminder of my biological father. Perhaps a painful reminder to those whom he had been affected by his violence and abuse. As a child, I looked more like him, than my mother.

I remember telling my mother, that I wanted my body to look like "Michelle's" body. I wanted to have hips and butt and boobs. She reminded me that I was in sixth grade, and that I had MY body. She said that my body would change and blossom into this womanly form that possessed curves resembling my mother, and her mother before her. I waited. My body changed. However, it remained lanky and short. Truthfully, to this day, I don't have hips and butt and curves for days. It simply is what it is.

When I contemplated doing this shoot, I returned to that 6th grade girl. What if all the women present were shaped differently than I? They were. What if, I was the only one with stretch marks on my belly and thighs? I wasn't. Prior to the shoot, I contemplated nursing while being photographed. I thought to myself, 'I will be ok nude, if I am breastfeeding, and hiding my insecurity behind my motherhood.' Was it possible for me to stand in my own womanhood, without a babe attached to my breast? Could I stand in this skin, alone? This body was carrying years of both self inflicted and environmental body shaming? It needed to stop. The fear and negative voices needed to stop. 

At the shoot, I stood with a blanket wrapped around me. Afraid to remove it. These women were beautiful. Their bodies perfect. As I continued to stand there (still with the blanket wrapped around my body), I saw these beautiful women laughing and embracing each other, as if they were clothed in diamonds. They turned to me and beckoned for me to join. I briefly tried to find a place where I fit... They quickly made room for me. They held space for me. Perhaps, they were on the same journey of reconnecting with their bodies? Perhaps they had been there before... For me, I wasn't quite sure when this insecurity began... But, I knew now is when it would end. 

Zzaj And Keenan's Journey To Baby

In May 2011, after only 3 short months of marriage my husband and I found out we were expecting our first child. THIS WAS NOT THE PLAN! 

We vowed to each other that since we got married at such a young age (I was only 21 when we got married) that children were a minimum of 3 years out. God has a funny way about him... we made it 3 months. We both had very interesting ways of processing this news. 

How it all started. I noticed for a couple of weeks that my breast were extremely sore and the pain was increasing everyday. I'd never had this feeling before so of course I looked on Web MD and came to the conclusion that I probably had breast cancer. After complaining to my husband for a few days, his response was, "babe, maybe you should take a pregnancy test." 

I was baffled. Pregnancy. You're nuts. A few more days passed and I found myself indulging in my favorite steak banh mi sandwich along with an iced Vietnamese coffee for lunch. On my drive home I was so nauseous (again, never felt like this before) However, I knew for sure that the condensed milk in my coffee just didn't sit right that day. As I told my husband about lunch he insisted again, "please, would you just take a pregnancy test, like a normal woman?" So finally I gave in. I picked up a test on my way home and of course... we were pregnant. Let's just say this evening ended with a trip to Urgent Care to verify that the store bought test was wrong... because how was I supposed to sleep that night if I didn't speak with a real doctor?

When we arrived at Urgent Care the nurse asked what my symptoms were... Let's just say there was absolutely no mention of the test we took at home. I didn't want to give the doctors any crazy ideas. After about 36 seconds of expressing my symptoms the doctor requested we take a pregnancy test and you would never believe it... YES, WE WERE PREGNANT! In all of my crazy I looked over at my extremely confused husband with a huge smile on my face and tears in my eyes and said "babe, we're going to have a baby!!" His response... "Zzaj, you're nuts, you knew this before we got here..."

So that's how our journey began. We would spend the next 9 months in what felt like hell. I was sick all 9 months of my pregnancy... literally throwing up about 10 times a day, a torn esophagus, sciatic nerve issues, weekly IV treatments, hundreds of dollars wasted on ER trips and continuous melt downs to name a few. We decided that our beautiful Kennedy Grace would be our only child because there was no way we would ever sign up for 9 months of hard time again. 

These crazy memories finally were far enough in the past by Summer 2015. We decided this time, WE'RE READY for baby #2. It didn't take long for us to get pregnant again, we were so excited. We couldn't wait to tell our family the news. There was no way we were waiting 13 weeks to share the news. We were happy and healthy and everyone needed to know. We found out mid August and around 7/8 weeks things got strange. We went in ready to hear a heartbeat and instead we were faced with the news that there wasn't one. We remained hopeful for another 2 weeks. Maybe we were just earlier than we thought, that's all... right? After the longest 2 weeks of our lives we were told that we had a miscarriage. We were left with this feeling of extreme confusion because "we were ready this time..." 

The medical procedure to remove the baby consisted of me holding my husbands hand, playing worship music and trying to make sense of why God didn't realize how ready we were for this. What just happened to us? We didn't talk much to each other about it. We prayed a lot. We decided that it was well with our souls even though it wasn't how we pictured this all playing out. Then we also decided that we were definitely done having children because we would never go through that experience again. 

After a few months of grieving in our own ways our beautiful baby girl begin to ask the question... "why do we only have 3 people in our family?" and slowly but surely we were "ready" again. 

Today, we're 35 weeks pregnant. We're doing 9 months of hard time. I've been extremely blessed to have another pregnancy full of extreme vomiting from start and we couldn't be more thrilled to meet our rainbow baby this January. 

My Self Care IS Activism

I am grateful. I am grateful for family and friends. I am grateful for healthy relationships and the ability to stay clear from toxicity. I am grateful for my home. I think it's clear… that there is a lot to be grateful for. However, yesterday as we gathered with loved ones, I couldn't help but feel heaviness. I felt heaviness that as we ate, Native Americans are still disrespected, tossed to the side, and stolen from. I felt heaviness that just a few weeks prior, our country elected a man that has disrespected people of color, the disabled, muslims, women, and the lbgt community. I felt heaviness for the families of Chattanooga, TN who lost their babes just a couple of days ago in a horrific bus crash. With that being said, there is a lot of healing that needs to take place. There is a lot of self care that needs to take place. However, how do we implement self care and self celebration in the midst of chaos? How do we stay inspired in the midst of personal and/or public calamity?

I truly believe that self care is a form of activism. To stand up in the midst of someone’s hate, and scream, “I am enough," is not only a form of activism, but self care. Self care isn't just taking a long bath; although pausing for self is necessary. Self care is decorating a poster and marching through the streets while affirming that black lives really do matter… because they do. Self care is not buying into the hype of Black Friday… opting out of standing in long lines to buy more stuff. Your worth is not in getting more stuff.

Self care is speaking the truth… your truth… because it is necessary. After the election, I was greeted via social media by people asking me to validate my frustration on racism and the election results. I spoke even louder. This blatant election of bigotry over unification spoke volumes. It should have rang loudly to those who had been in a deep slumber regarding racism in this country. Using your voice on whatever platform that you may have is a form of self celebration. When you use your voice to speak on things that matter, you proclaim your worth. When you use your privilege to influence others to change, you celebrate the fact that your words have power and value. They are not empty. 

Lastly, sometimes staying inspired, involves simply unplugging. No television, no electronics, just the sound of your breath and the wind blowing through the trees. These moments are necessary. I have found that when I take time to “unplug from the matrix,” I am able to return, revitalized and ready to speak, protest, and engage in much needed discussions. Reminding myself that in spite of the chaos, hate, and crazy, I am worthy and important.