MWP mag Issue 002

ISSUE 002

MWP MAG

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EDITOR'S NOTE

The world would not exist without motherhood; it begins with motherhood and continues to evolve through motherhood. Over the last year, with a global pandemic disproportionately affecting families of color and racism, sexism, ableism and misogyny present at the very core of the country we live in, being a mother, playing the role of a caretaker and being a child -- has meant that much more.

In this issue, we tell stories of motherhood that blur its lines with childhood in of itself. We tell stories of resilience, hardship, dedication - of strong, positive and arduous bonds and also those bonds permeating with pain, instability and hunger for affection. And although motherhood is always complex and sometimes stricken with difficulty and isolation - there is no mother child relationship devoid of love.

No matter what being a child or a mother has looked like for you - as it comes in all shapes and forms we invite you on a journey through that which is indefinable. A journey where you can ask yourself -what does motherhood mean to you? Who has been a mother to you and above all, how have you been a mother to yourself?

This issue was made possible by our creative fam and, of course, the women who generously shared their stories. We cannot thank you more.

DIVYA K. CHHABRA, MD

“Grown don’t mean nothing to a mother. A child is a child. They get bigger, older, but grown. In my heart it don’t mean a thing.” –Toni Morrison

CREATIVE FAM Editor Divya K. Chhabra, MD

Art Direction Eileen Nuñez

Photographers Riana Khan

Writers Dionna Carter Divya K. Chaabra, MD Lourdes Monzon Sughnen Yongo-Okochi

Graphic Design Jarlyne Batista Monzon Eileen Nuñez

THANK YOU.

ME WITH POWER MAG

Lourdes Monzon

DEAR MOMMA

02

Editor's Note

03

Creative Fam

06

Lessons from Motherhood, Lourdes Monzon

10

Legacy, Dionna Carter

13

Untitled, Mujhe Maaf Kaardo

15

Birth Story Interview, Tiffany Trent-Reid

20

Racism in Healthcare: A Black woman's childbirth story - Pavement Pieces, Sughnen Yongo-Okochi

22

Letters To

MO THE RHO OD

Lessons from Motherhood LOURDES MONZON

When I was 21, I had done some serious soul searching. I was living in integrity, newfound independence and I finally felt like I was journeying towards my purpose. Little did I know I was soon becoming a mama.

A few short months later, I learned I was pregnant. I took multiple tests and each one seemed clearer than the previous -- especially the one that read ‘PREGNANT.’ I was overwhelmed but ultimately I knew this was part of my destiny. Between breaths I was living in my individuality -- and slowly gaining a new identity.

The next nine months marked uncharted territory. My body beautifully changed along with the seasons, just as they did. I visited the clinic for routine visits and the pregnancy progressed normally. At 38.5 weeks we found out he was breached, so we planned a C-Section in case he didn’t switch positions. He stayed put.

On February 13, 2014, my first son took his first breath. When I held him and kissed his forehead for the first time, my world shifted. When he and I were finally alone that evening, I spoke to him and told him how much he meant to me and that I’d always show us both the love we deserve.

The responsibility felt like the weight of the world but my spirituality carried it. The early days - as my body healed - challenged me. Some days still test me -- because the stakes are high when you are raising a child to be a good human in this world. But life with Owen was filled with curiosity, and calmness and inquisition - he was the “Zen Baby.” His early years were as smooth as my pregnancy. At age seven, he’s a light: reflection of all the good parts of me and his own person too.

I did that! I’m the vessel he chose to travel through. What an honor for me. What an honor for him.

Owen made expanding our family seem easy and natural... PLOT TWIST, it wasn’t.

My partner, Owen and I were thrilled when we found out we were pregnant. During my 20 week scan, I was shocked when the tech said: “I’m just going to let the doctor explain this to you.”

The baby wasn’t growing quickly enough. After that 18 week scan the clinic was my second home. At 23 weeks, a specialist told me to prepare for a stillbirth. What? How? But I felt so full of life, so prepared to have this being grow and experience life. I refused to accept it. The emotional rollercoaster played on and I decided that I couldn’t just give up. My children were depending on their mother’s love. I made every effort to have a healthy pregnancy and to focus my energy on Owen.

I got an amniocentesis and the chromosomes were all normal; the test also confirmed we were having another son. Brothers. Sons. We would name him Tobias. But throughout, the pregnancy obstacles clouded our path. Tobias had a coarctation of his aorta - he’d need surgery shortly after birth in order for the blood to flow through his body. He had a tethered spine amongst other conditions that needed surgical intervention. They even considered performing a potential surgery while he was in my body. The doctors worried his issues would lead to a challenging life. I was devastated.

But something within me -- or someone within me-- gave me hope.

continued on next page

I knew this little being embodied a big spirit. A presence so undeniable. My thoughts oscillated between impending doom, searching for a way to carry him to term, and the heart surgery... I told myself daily that I was capable and. worthy -- that my growing seed and I had purpose.

Everyday I looked in the mirror -- hand to womb -- inhaling and exhaling. I reminded myself that doctors - also humans -- cannot have all the answers either... I gave myself the space to reflect on the worse case scenario and reminded myself that Owen was watching. I knew we were all strong enough for whatever came our way.

I gave birth to Tobias on March 6, 2018 at 11:59am.

My doctor told me my water didn’t break when I first went to the ER and the very next day I was rushed to Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia (CHOP). Tobias was tiny and early with a head full of hair. He carried a peaceful disposition - despite his feet turning blue due to poor blood flow. At three-days-old he had a 3-hour heart surgery. He came out of it like a champ.

We spent fourteen days in the NICU at CHOP. Every day felt like eternity, yet I was humbled by mothers celebrating first birthdays there.

Finally, Tobias graduated feeding and breathing goals and we brought him home. His first year of life he had seven -- successful -surgeries. Each time, he taught us what strength looked like. Each time he went to the operating room, my heart broke and it pieced back together each time he came out.

Nothing prepares you for this. Not the books.

Not the classes. Nothing. But Tobias, now three, shining spirit and all, radiates vivacity. .

He has a big personality, he loves people and he’s so smart. He reached milestones early, despite having surgeries that could’ve stunted development. If you were to see him in action, you would never know his past. He has scars on his skin but those are just healed wounds.

We see a heart specialist once a year and now the chances of his valves narrowing again are below 1%.

Tobias and Owen are both miracles, as is every child. And every mama is amazing for entering motherhood and giving it all we have, even when that varies on any given day.

"While Tobias’ birth story is a testimony to manifesting greatness, I know that sometimes it doesn’t work out this way."

While Tobias’ birth story is a testimony to manifesting greatness, I know that sometimes it doesn’t work out this way. I’ve been pregnant 5 times and have two children. My last miscarriage was on October 13, 2020. Right before the second trimester, the ultrasound found no heartbeat she had chromosomal abnormalities. My doctor performed a DNC - a process in which the remaining cells of the baby are scraped from the uterus. My time with her was filled with joy but also deep heartache, as my intuition and connection to her, before and after losing her, has always felt unfinished.. It was almost as if she’s telling me, “I’m here and what you feel is true”, but I’ll never actually get to hold her in this world.

After the loss, I lied In bed a lot and held my children close. The vivid dreams and nightmares lifted. I started to heal; body, mind and spirit. It took everything in me to nurture my spirit but I knew I had to escape the confines of my mind. My children were still watching.

In all my forms of motherhood, I have learned to trust my intuition in different ways. Tobias is my warrior child and Owen is his keeper. They are two totally different and exceptional sons. Two boys - both connected to one mama in such powerful ways. I didn’t birth my daughter, but I did birth a stronger, bolder mother within me. It is my reality now -- and forever.

AFFIRMATIONS

WITH TOBIAS

LEGACY What will yours be?

Not if, but what...

What my babies see will be the leaves of the family tree extending from me May they remember the tears mingled with praise As I called His name Wrecked, no shame Knowing the labor isn’t in vain But purposeful As joy-filled blessings flow Through the hollow of surrendered hands Let their ears recall my requests for your plans My will diminishing that Yours may stand As they grow to live out the answers to my prayers Taking a stand when the world dares to leer and jeer all that is pure Let their faith endure As they bear fruit let it fall far from the tree broadly scattering the seeds of a righteous legacy

DIONNA CARTER

"Yes. It is true. I was created in you.

It is also true that you were created for me."

MAYA ANGELOU

Photographed by Thiago Matos

MUJHE MAAF KAARDO

There’s no words for “I’m sorry” in my mothers tongue instead, there’s a request mujhe maaf kaardo “do the forgiving of me” she would say it when she forgot I graduated when she reached for a rubber slipper with her hands to strike me and she’d say it when she was drenched in viscous, sticky self-pity how can one ask for forgiveness without sorrow? tell me, Bhagvan, is there forgiveness without sorrow? is sorrow bullshit? irrelevant? too much in the past? or was the sorrow so pure so beautiful so inseparable from forgiveness it’s assumed to be there, unnoticed, like a wallflower or like the little pieces of foil on kaju barfi no need to be said less is more speaking for itself, like the freeze-wrapped, defrost, warm and serve rajma she’d put in my suitcase before I flew away

what does I’m sorry do anyway it’s not an action there’s no “sorrying” like forgiving, that you do like when you muster up the trust and courage and hope and breaths to move forward like a plant accepting water after a drought and soaking in the nourishment even though the sky never apologized for delaying it’s bloom every five years like when the canvas and the water droplets erased the misstrokes knowing the brush could make better use of the periwinkles and mauves next time like a diamond emerging from calloused palms in the dirt even though the land never apologized for hiding its light under so much fucking pressure what I want to say to you Mom, or do, is mainne aap ko maaf kiya ‘I forgave you’ but just once, for the American girl you made, can you say I’m sorry?

RACI SM IN HEA LTH CARE

I AM STILL HEALING FROM MY BIRTH STORY

TIFFANY TRENT REID

Photographed by Riana Khan

Our Editorial Director, Divya K. Chhabra, MD, goes into conversation with Tiffany Trent-Reid, a recent mother who birthed her baby girl Murray right before the pandemic.

Divya: Hi, Tiffany. I've read about your experience and the circumstances of everything that you've been through with your pregnancy and delivery - wow. Can you tell us a little about your pregnancy?

Tiffany: My pregnancy was unexpected. I had just gone for a checkup and was told that I wasn't pregnant. Once some time went by, I started getting symptoms -- weird symptoms. And my back started hurting really bad. I was feeling nauseous all the time. I took another test, and I was pregnant. I tried to take it day by day and continue my normal routine, but that didn't work out because my job was very physical. I would sit down for lunch and I couldn't get back up. I had sickness -- more than morning sickness.

It was all day just throwing up. It was really hard. Luckily, after my first trimester went by, the second trimester was easier. And then I think the third trimester is hard for everybody as far as carrying the weight and just being big.

Overall, you know, it was a good experience because you really have to listen to your body -- each and every day. If it told you to sit down, you had to sit down. You just became one with your body. So, it was an experience.

Divya: Yeah, I mean, being pregnant, you’re literally growing something inside of you. It's beautiful and so scary too. What about your birth story -- you know, that's another rollercoaster. What was that like?

Tiffany: It was..one of those points in life where you have to just learn from it. I had to be induced because Murray just did not want to come out. I think she was comfortable. She went past 40 weeks so I was induced on a Wednesday night. Finally on Friday morning, I was nine centimeters dilated and the doctor told me it'd be about an hour before I start pushing. My husband, who had not left my side for two days, had run out to grab a quick coffee. As soon as he left the room, the doctors rushed in. They told me the baby's heart rate went up and I had to go in for an emergency C-section. Immediately, they start throwing papers at me to sign. And at this point, I was super tired, drugged up and so I was just kind of like, wait a minute. I let them know that we needed to wait for my husband. I heard the nurse say that the baby's heart rate had gone back down. I was left there wondering why they were still rushing me. And then we went into the operating room and I was so nervous because I've never had surgery before and it was just all...very sterile. Like they put you on a silver table that's cold.

Divya: It's the most emotional thing turning into medical jargon. And, yes, they're trying to get the situation sorted out safely. But space for humanity is also at the center of it.

Tiffany with her baby, Murray, at the hospital

Tiffany: Definitely. And so I'm on the table. I was just so nervous, so scared. I started throwing up and shaking uncontrollably. And, you know, they put that curtain up. I asked, “Am I going to feel anything?” And they said, no. So I just went through with it. It was a beautiful moment when I heard my baby cry. I thought that they would put her on my chest and that I would be able to have those first few moments with her, but I literally heard her cry and then all of a sudden they were kicking my husband out of the room.

So I was confused and even more drugged up from the anesthesia. I started to fade. I didn't want to fall asleep because I was so scared I wouldn't wake up and I said a prayer. I thought “God, just please let me be able to see my child,” and this peace came over me. And When I woke up, I was still in the same place. I'm wondering, why am I still here? They told me that they had to perform a procedure to mechanically compress an atonic uterus -- one that isn’t contracting properly -- in the face of severe postpartum hemorrhage. I had lost a lot of blood and had to get blood transfusions. It was just so traumatic in the way that, you know, there wasn't a lot of explaining. I understand that in the medical world, they have to do whatever they have to do to save your life. But in the moment, it was just really scary and traumatic.

Divya: Yeah, I can't imagine the juxtaposition of an experience being the most beautiful day of your life, but also in some ways the most traumatic and scary day of your life. And in addition to that, I mean, what we haven't talked about yet is, you know, being a woman is hard, being pregnant is hard. And being a Black, pregnant woman, we all know, is even scarier in America. Black women all across the income spectrum from all walks of life are dying from preventable pregnancy related complications. So I wanted to hear from you about your own experience. continued on next page

Tiffany: You know, going into the whole process, I had a little bit of confidence because I had been with the hospital for a long time and it’s a notable hospital. So, you know, I wasn't scared besides in the way that I'm like, okay, this is a new experience. But I wasn’t scared that things weren’t going to work out. But I know that this is a problem in our country. And I, I believe it stems from from racism, slavery and segregation. Years later, these behaviors are ingrained into our country, into our behaviors, and it seeps through every institution.This is why innocent Black people are being killed at disproportionately high rates by the police. It's why a white mass murderer can be peacefully taken to Burger King while a black man is killed for wearing a hoodie or having a sandwich in his hand. It's really crazy and in the medical world it is no different. I feel like sometimes Black women and women of color are not heard. And it just seems as though the things we say don't hold as much weight as someone else. And it's hard because until these things have a consequence, it seems as though these things won't change.

Divya: There is a consequence, it’s the fact that Black people are dying. Our system is built on a faulty structure.

How can we keep building on something that's faulty to begin with? It seems we must dismantle and rebuild.

Tiffany: Exactly. We definitely have to break down those problems and get to the root of it. Otherwise, you know, putting bandaids on the issues, it just won't work.

Divya: How do you cope with the fear of knowing that there will be challenges in her life?

Tiffany: It's really hard. Fear is one of the main ingredients in parenthood. It's really scary to always be worried about your child and their well-being. But then to have this added pressure of, you know, all these different things may happen to us because of the color of our skin. It’s just one of those things -- you don't have a choice. You just have to get through it.

Divya: Yeah, it takes a lot of strength to do that, and on top of that we haven't even talked about the fact that you had an infant during the pandemic. Can you tell us a little bit of what that’s been like?

Tiffany: It’s really rough. I had Murray right before the pandemic. Being postpartum, you want to get back to your normal life, but I couldn’t. So that really just took a toll in itself. And you already have so much fear with parenthood as it is. I was thinking about it the other day -- if Murray jumped into the ocean right now, I didn't know how to swim and there were like sharks in the water -- I would jump in after her, no questions asked.That's scary in itself -- the fact that your your body is is automatically going to do things to protect your child. So the pandemic just added. It was like, I didn’t want to leave the house. I didn't leave the house for three months, not even for a walk -- none of that.

"I feel as though fear is one of the main ingredients in parenthood. It's just really scary to always be worried about your child and their well-being. But then to have this added pressure of, you know, all these different things may happen to us because of the color of our skin, it’s really hard to explain that to a child."

Divya: Being a Black person..it's your identity, it's beautiful.

And it's scary because having that identity in America means that you're at risk for a lot of things. And I'm curious, what is it like for you now being a Black mother in America to Murray?

Divya: It’s truly been a rollercoaster - that so many mothers have been on this year. This will mean so much to the mothers you are speaking to today. To end, what advice do you have for Black and BIPOC mothers?

Tiffany: You know, it's hard because like you said before, those behaviors and beliefs, they're ingrained in us and in Black people too. We know what we're up against -- that we have to be a little bit more careful. We have to work a little bit harder. And that's become natural for us, which does not help. It's normal to have that “talk” with your child at a young age. As soon as your child can talk, you're like, “Listen, if you come across a police officer, these are the things that you need to do. Don't have your hoodie on, don't talk back, have your hands visible.” It's really scary that we have to explain why we're being killed to young children who don't understand yet.

Tiffany: I would say it's really hard to give advice, especially with parenting, because every child is different, every situation is different. But I would definitely say to trust yourself. As mothers, we were made for this and our instincts are -- most of the time, right. And it’s okay to also ask for help. We always try to do everything ourselves. But it's okay if you need answers to questions or if you need time to yourself. Another thing for me that's really helped is just becoming more in touch with my spiritual side -- there are just some things you don't have control over.

1 3 THINGS I LOVE ABOUT MURRAY

Murray is always in good spirits! She loves to laugh and smile at people. Even when she cries, she is ready to smile seconds later. Definitely a happy baby!

2

Even though Murray grew up in quarantine, she is still very social. She is very nice to the other kids on the playground and she will run around and say hi to everyone. She is well balanced in the fact that, she knows how to play by herself as well.

3

I love the way Murray loves me. I’ve never felt a love like this. The way she runs to me for hugs and kisses makes my whole day! The way she needs me when she cries, makes me feel so wanted. It’s the unconditional love for me.

RACISM IN HEALTHCARE: A BLACK WOMAN'S CHILDBIRTH STORY

SUGHNEN YONGO-OKOCHI Jay-Z’s Empire State of Mind blared in the delivery room from my iPhone as the nurses encouraged me to push harder. It was finally the day to bring in new life and the day I almost lost my life.

On December 21, 2020 at 12:15 AM, a painful ache in my abdomen woke me. It rapidly greeted my entire body but managed to focus on my belly. I was nine months pregnant and nine days from my due date.

During the beginning of my pregnancy, my OBGYN informed me that my baby was developing steadily but later - the process of carrying my baby took a turn. During week 28, I got diagnosed with gestational diabetes, a condition that causes high blood sugar. To avoid further complications, doctors encouraged me to measure my blood sugar with an AquaLance Lancets device four times a day. Day after day,I listened. I measured my blood sugar and maintained a healthy diet. But my healthcare provider responded with passive aggression or vague responses.

As a Black woman and an immigrant of African descent, I believed U.S healthcare system was second to none. I tried to ignore the dismissiveness, put my head down, and remain as healthy as possible for my baby. But alas, this brings me to where I began this story, on December 21.

After hours of excruciating pain my husband and I climbed into our Toyota RAV4 and rushed to the hospital -30 minutes away from home - Allendale, Michigan.

Source: Fresno Alliance

Upon arrival, I was transferred to a wheelchair and wheeled to a hallway labeled “Admissions.” Three hours later, I was in the labor room. The nurses injected me with an epidural and seven grueling hours later, I gave birth to my 8 pound, 3 ounce son. With heavy relief as I was wheeled to recovery, At 6:17 p.m, I finally fully held my son in my arms. I was immediately overcome with inexplicable love, a piece of me asleep in my arms. Before long, my husband came to stand beside us and immediately froze. I was clueless that the worst was yet to come.

My bed was drenched in blood - I had no recollection of how it left me. My husband immediately called for a nurse; she calmly said she would call the doctor to take a look. Hours later, another doctor came into the room to check on me.Her face in an attempt to conceal shock, she called for the senior doctor.. By this time, my entire bed was soaked, and before I knew what was happening, three doctors and six nurses, all clamored around my bed and asking me my symptoms.

The doctors informed me that I was losing blood at a dangerous pace, and needed to go in for a dilation and curettage surgery - a procedure in which the cervix is dilated and spoon-shaped instrument to removes abnormal tissue from the uterine lining They gave me anesthesia through an IV that knocked me out for the surgery I woke up from the surgery -- disoriented, groggy, light-headed, and lethargic. continued on next page

"In the United States, Black women are two to six times more likely to die from pregnancy complications than white women, depending on geographic location."

My tongue felt like rubber, and my throat ached as I struggled to gulp. The air emanating rubber gloves and hand sanitizer. I could barely make out a word as one of the nurses flatly informed me my baby was in the nursery and my husband in the waiting room. Before the surgery, I had two blood transfusions, and after the surgery, I had four transfusions, making it a total of six transfusions. I could barely move my body as I was wheeled to the recovery room.

I am not the only Black woman who nearly lost her life due to a lack of care from healthcare professionals in the United States. And racism, unfortunately, lies at the core of this malpractice. Millions of women have suffered my fate or, even worse: died.

In the United States, Black women are two to six times more likely to die from pregnancy complications than white women, depending on geographic location This rests on many factors, including the racial divide in healthcare.

When data obtained from 1979 to 1992 was analyzed by medical experts, the overall pregnancy-related mortality ratio was 25.1 deaths per 100,000 for Black women, 10.3 for Hispanic women, and 6.0 for non-Hispanic white women.

According to the American Medical Association, these rates have not improved, and the leading causes of maternal death are hemorrhage, pregnancy-induced hypertension, and embolism. Black women have almost three times the risk of death from hemorrhage than white women - and this isn’t inherently because they are Black. It’s racism.

Although ample data exists to quantify the disparity in mortality rate for Black women, only recently has the issue become mainstream.

According to Dr. Neel Shah, an Assistant Professor of Obstetrics, Gynecology and Reproductive Biology at Harvard Medical School, medical professionals did not systematically measure the mortality rates in childbirth until recently:

“It was only in 2018 that we discovered that the maternal mortality rate of Black women in our country has been going up for 25 years, and the only way to try to understand that is through the lens of racism,” said Shah. “A Black person, on average, is more likely to die from childbirth than a white person, and that disparity is even larger when you are in places like New York City where there is a lot of segregation not only geographically but in terms of opportunities to thrive.”

He also explained that racism in healthcare influenced the outcome of many Black women’s births.

“When it comes to Black birthing experiences, in particular, there are structural causes of racism, and there are also interpersonal stories of racism that we see play out in the media sometimes when people don’t get heard and feel dismissed,” said Shah. “There are systemic traces of racism that are built into this practice, and the way doctors are trained and some of that has roots that go back to slavery.”

Kimberly Sallers, the owner of Irth App, a nonprofit organization where Black women can find prenatal, birthing, postpartum, and pediatric reviews of care from other Black and brown women, said that education and status do not protect Black women from racism in healthcare.

“We can look at what happened to Serena Williams as an example. She had some complications during her childbirth and had her white millionaire husband by her side, but still, she was dismissed,” said Sallers.

She also explained that despite the traumatic stories of Black women , there remains hope.“Although the narrative around Black birth is often painted as doom and gloom, we can’t just let this be a fear-based event,” Sallers said. “Using fear has been used as a tool to control Black people from time, but we should not allow Black births to be a solely negative event because there is hope for the future of Black births.”

A LETT ER TO

A collection of images and messages to our mothers and children

A Letter to My sisters can attest that our parents have been smokers our entire lives. Even when they were told I was asthmatic (I was 8 years old at the time), I remember them telling the doctor that they would open a window so it would not affect me.

Years later I would learn that smoking was more than the act of smoking, it was their companion, a loyal friend they talk to accompanied by a Cafecito”. This cigarette has been my mother’s “exhale” for as long as I can remember and even though my sisters and I are not smokers we have commented that we envy that feeling of relief with that last puff, as if all vanishes once they finish that cigarette. I could not capture the exhale, since this was taken paparazzi style, but I’ve come to think that the inhale, that moment that you choose to let it all in, is what matters most.

Jennyfer Parra

Rita Crisostomo Parra, May 2020

A Letter to

Dear Mom, I worship the ground you walk on and I love you wholeheartedly; mind, body, and soul. I could never get tired of telling you how much I love you. You have sacrificed yourself to provide for me and my siblings which I truly appreciate. You have provided for us physically, mentally, and emotionally. I often questioned and never agreed with your tough love; but you showed me love the only way you knew how to. Who would’ve known the power and beauty of your love. Your love has molded and continues to mold me into the woman I am today. I honestly could never repay you nor thank you enough. You were destined to be my mother and I appreciate you for fulfilling that role. They say a mother’s job is never done but I can honestly say that you got the job done and exceeded the expectations of a mother. You taught me that pain is temporary but a life lesson. I also learned that giving up isn’t an option. Life has tested you in many ways and has broken you. What I am trying to say is thank you for always putting things back together even when you lacked the required tools.

Love heals all brokenness.

Natalia Reid

Dear Samantha, There are so many ways that I can tell you and show you how much I love and appreciate who you are. I can start by saying you’re my favorite girl in the whole world, but you already knew that! Always be who you are and follow your heart even when others don’t understand it. There will be times when we won’t get along and it’s okay, these are the phases of life, but let’s do our best to be mindful and respectful. Everything we want is within our reach, all we have to do is want it bad enough and you’ll find your way to it. Don’t be afraid of the mistakes along the way because those are the lessons we’ll never forget. Always remember how abundant we are and to share that abundance. I love you chiquis, to the moon and back, always and forever.

Alejandra Martinez

A Letter to

Dear Aurora and Ellis!

You are both my external heartbeats. I’m still in awe that from the broken pieces of my heart, two of the most perfect humans were created. I don’t always get it right, sometimes I raise my voice too often or am too tired to get on the floor to play with you. But please never doubt how much I love you and how incredibly proud of you I am. Believe in God with all your heart and know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you are enough, just the way you are!

Raquel Federowicz

A Letter to

The day you were born I said to myself, I did it, I actually did it. As I looked around the delivery room with predominately African American doctors and nurses helping me bring you into the world I realized how blessed I was. God saw me fit to be your mom. Being a single mom has been one of the greatest jobs I’ve ever done. You have changed me for the better, changed my focus and changed my drive. I’ve accomplished things I’ve never thought I could do, with you right by my side. As I’ve watched grow from a tiny entity into a walking, talking, force to be reckoned with. You are a part of me and I am a part of you, and there has been no greater joy than knowing that.

LaCrystal Smith

Dear Baby, You are my biggest blessing. The day I found out about you I was nervous. I was nervous to know how good or bad of a mom I would be. I was scared because I thought I wasn’t ready. I was afraid that I wouldn’t be where I wanted to be before you came into this world.

Little did I know you are my world. You are the cutest little thing I know. I can’t wait to meet you. As you are growing in me - I am also growing for you. Your little cute flutters or as I would say waves - tickle me, and so I can’t wait to tickle you. Today, you are 19 weeks and 3 days old. The size of a sweet little Mango. In just 4 days I will find out your gender. Whether you are my sunshine or my moonshine, I will love you no matter what. I already love you. Loving you has made me feel that I am no longer nervous to know how good or bad of a mom I would be. Loving you has made me realize I am more than ready to become your mommy. Loving you I noticed I am where I am suppose to be - and that’s here waiting for you.

I love you chichi xoxo, Mommy Ayesha Nuñez

A Letter to

I was never who you wanted me to be. I never had interest in meeting your standards of success because my joy came from abstract ideas that society would never accept. We are beautiful and individual beings. I am a beautiful and unique being but I was never who you wanted me to be. I dare you to explore yourself outside the social norms.I ask you to express yourself as no one is watching. I know you've heard the whispers and ignored them time and time again. I know you heard your heart singing a song and thought that makes no sense. I was never who you wanted me to be but I see it now. The reflection of yourself in me. The fear of standing out in a crowd singing a song no one else knew the words to but you. If you listen long enough, you'll find yourself living in me too. Because I am a reflection of you but I never was who you wanted me to be.

Charlisa D. Erickson

Dear Xander, I never wanted a boy; I needed a boy. When I first heard “it’s a boy” I was annoyed. As a feminist and previous victim, I had no clue what to do with a boy. I wanted a girl. I thought it made sense for me to have a girl because I knew how to raise a girl.

The truth is the first mistake was thinking I was going to raise a child. Instead, we are raising each other. God gave me a boy because I needed to learn to love unconditionally. I needed to learn to fall madly in love without worrying about anything other than being in the moment. God knew I needed you to reflect my light. God knew I needed to understand that there is nothing to understand but to experience. Becoming your mother has broken me wide open. It has taught me how we assign traits and characteristics to each other when in reality we are already born with everything we need. You are simply magical. You have been radiant since the day you were born.

Your light is shining bright, and I hope to never dim it. You reminded me to dream, live and wander. You reminded me to explore and stay curious. Your spirit has been guiding me before meeting you. I hope we continue to grow together, side by side on this journey of life. Thank you for choosing me as your madre.

Vanessa Pardo-Suazo

A Letter to

The hospital room where Anton was born would only allow one overnight guest. Both you and my partner wanted to stay the night, but you insisted he get some much needed sleep at home while you’d stay with me and Anton in the hospital. My partner occasionally mentions this with some regret, as he wishes he could have spent the first night of his child’s life alongside him. But I for one am so happy you stayed with me. After he left and Anton was napping you gave me a sponge bath, dressed me, and added a little lavender oil to my pillow. I fed Anton one more time, and he began to cry so you picked him up to rock him to sleep. “It’s been a long day for you sweetie” you told me “Get some rest, I’ll watch him and wake you when needed”. That was the last time I had some restful sleep for six months. When I woke up the light was shining so beautifully on you both that I snuck this photo. Perhaps less beautifully, shortly after I had to use the toilet for that first dreaded after labor poo, and I was so scared I cried. You rubbed my back, held my hand and literally wiped me clean.

When I showed some embarrassment you kindly said “I’ve done this for you a thousand times before, this is nothing. I love you. Thank you for letting me be here.” I cannot express how much your care meant to me that day. And while I know it came at the expense of a father’s first night with his son, I’m so very thankful to you for it. I wouldn’t know how to ask for what you gave me from my partner. You knew exactly what I would need because on top of having gone through labor yourself, you’re my mother. We share a bond that cannot be replicated. For the last time that year I felt my healing and care was just as important as my son’s. And that memory has kept me fueled to this day. Te amo mamá Vianna Nater

MWP

MAG

This issue is dedicated to all of the mommas; those who are with us in this realm and in spirit.

Those who birthed us and the ones that raised us.

We see you.

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