Childhood Stressors

From Kindergarten until the end of 5th grade, I went to a predominantly white school. In my grade, there were only 6 black girls (including myself) and 2 black boys. In the whole school there may have been 35-40 black kids out of about 500 students. I never had any racial issues while there; we knew we were black, they were white, we had different ways of talking and different likes/dislikes, but uncomfortable or derogatory differences were not experienced.

As the youngest child of 10 and with my older siblings being much, much older than me, by 6th grade I had no one who would be home with me when I got off of the bus. I ended up having to transfer to the predominantly black school where my mom taught. That is when the racism began.

The students ridiculed and bullied me relentlessly, mocking me for not being "black enough" and for "acting white." Not a day went by that I wasn't treated like crap, talked about, looked at crazy, and laughed at in some or the other. As a result, I created this pro-black, hard, pseudo-urban, rebellious identity by the eighth grade that carried into my late twenties. I mimicked the language of black rappers, popular black educators and actors, whoever I could, to be "black" and then I made sure white people knew I was "black," too. No matter what I did in middle school or high school, I was never black enough, never good enough to be really in, even though I eventually became popular, well liked, voted for almost everything--still, I never could make it all the way into blackness. Believe it or not, in high school I experienced racism from both my black peers and the white people in my community, and in college the cruel racism I experienced from white people further made me feel justified in the persona I had concocted.

It wasn't until the end of last year, after going through 4 years of spiritual counseling from my pastors and through tremendous amounts of self-awareness, I realized the identity I created is not really who I am. True, I am on a journey to find out ALL of who I am, but what I already know and  the most important thing that I know is that I am a child of God.






The AIDS Epidemic in Sub-Saharan Africa
I chose to focus on the disease stressor, more specifically the AIDS epidemic, in the sub-Saharan region of Africa, where Swaziland has the highest HIV percentage of any country in the world (AVERT, 2016). UNAIDS developed a way to prevent new infections of children called the Global Plan, and 2009 saw a 435 decrease of new infections in children (AVERT, 2016). Other ways the countries are trying to prevent and/or treat HIV/AIDS ARE: home based testing, condoms, counseling, prevention of mother-to-child transmission, voluntary medical male circumcision, antiretroviral treatment, and international support through funding (AVERT, 2016).

Reference

AVERT. (2016). HIV and Aids in sub-saharan africa regional overview. Retrieved from www.avert.org/professionals/hiv-around-world/sub-saharan-africa/overview

Breastfeeding

• Breastfeeding is very meaningful to me. I am well aware of the benefits of breastfeeding, from things such as parent-child bonding and supplying the infant with essential nutrients. The major significance for me is the ability to bond with my child. I unfortunately was not able to breastfeed my daughter. I barely produced any milk and was told that it would begin to accumulate once my daughter latched on. I tried, but she just wouldn't latch and so I gave up. I often feel that had I been able to breastfeed, she wouldn't be nearly as greedy, lol, and we would have more of a bond.

• One very interesting piece of information that I ran across in my research was how a working mother breastfeeds her child. Sure, there are pumps and coolers, but what do working mothers across the world do to breastfeed? According to Heymann, Raub, and Earle (2013), the question arose: do working mothers get enough breaks during their workday in order to satisfy the necessity of either pumping or leaving to feed?

References

Heymann, J., Raub, A., & Earle, A. (2013). Breastfeeding policy: a globally comparative analysis. Bulletin of the World Health Organization  2013; 91:398-406. doi:http://dx.doi.org/10.2471/BLT.12.109363. Retrieved from http://www.who.int/bulletin/volumes/91/6/12-109363/en/

The Miracle of Birth

Holding My Daughter for the First Time

The birth of my daughter September 21, 2012 is a day I will never forget. I chose to share this because the birth of a child can be one breath away from disaster...

I had a lot of complications because I was stubborn and wouldn't heed my OBGYN about cutting salt out of my diet. I was taken off work on September 4 because I was extremely swollen from fluid, and my blood pressure was higher than high. Even so, I still refused to watch my salt intake. So, on September 18, I decided to eat fries that I drenched in seasoned salt. A few hours later, my head was swimming so bad that my husband took my pressure and the meter wouldn't even read it. Then my sister tried it, and got the same results. My husband took me to Walgreens to check my pressure and needless to say, it was so high that we had to call my OBGYN. I was told to go straight to the hospital.

For two days, my labor was induced, but my daughter just wasn't ready to come yet. I only managed to dilate 2 cm in that entire 48 hours. My blood pressure was constantly rising at an excelling rate and the labor was steadily not. The only choice my OBGYN had was to prep me for an emergency C-section. Because I was a high-risk pregnancy due to being very overweight (I was almost 400 lbs), my doctor did not want to cut me, but he knew if he didn't either me a=or the baby wouldn't make it. Just like he feared, I had many complications, but after the surgery. A small scare came right as they got my daughter out because her umbilical cord was wrapped around her stomach, but other than that she was a miracle. I didn't get a chance to enjoy that right off because I began to hemorrhage and had to be rushed back to surgery, get a blood transfusion--in which they gave me the wrong blood, which caused me to have to get that blood flushed and get a whole new transfusion, and then I had an allergic reaction to the blood. All in all, though, God spared my life, my daughter's life, and anointed the hands of all those involved. 

We believe that because of my selfishness that caused my daughter to have to be forced out rather than come out willingly, her bowels and systems for waste disposal were not fully developed. She had horrible, painful bowel movements and issues with constipation. That's why I know with no doubt that the way you take care of your child in the womb is significant to the child's growth and development.

In South Africa...

I researched what birthing processes are present in South Africa and came across an article that spoke of pregnant mothers being physically abused by medical staff and how low standards of care have caused deaths and/or injuries for mothers and children (Nordqvist, 2011). According to Nordqvist (2011), approximately 4500 women die every year due to pregnancy and childbirth-related causes that could have either been prevented or treated, but unfortunately were not. 

How does this compare to my story? If I had been in South Africa with all the complications I had, I may not be here today typing this. My daughter may very well have died, as well. 

References

Nordqvist, C. (August 2011). The shocking truth about giving birth in south africa. Medical News Today.