I identify as an Afro-Latina Black woman. Although I’m originally from Dallas, where I spent my school years, I enjoyed summers in Miami.
At the beginning of my professional career, I worked as a speech pathologist, seeing infants for tongue and lip ties. After the birth of my first two sons, I found that my work hours did not fit into the life of my motherhood responsibilities. While working in childcare during my third pregnancy, I received the devastating news that my baby had Trisomy 13, a fatal condition. I experienced a terminal birth and realized that there was no support for Black women who were grieving and the maternal health care system was greatly flawed. There was a lack of Black birth professionals. This was a troubling discovery living in such a large metroplex.
“During that time, I saw things in the hospital environment that I found concerning — things that made me want to bring change.”
After the loss of my daughter, one of the families I previously provided childcare for offered to hire me as their nanny. They were loving and supportive, allowing me time to grieve and celebrate the pregnancy of my third son. My best friend, an OB/GYN, would often help me to debrief the disparities I saw when it came to caring for Black women. Her years of experience in the field made her privy to the racial disparities in maternal healthcare, and she believed I could make a difference. “I don’t know where to start,” I told her. She shared with me that there are programs where hospitals pay doulas and suggested I look into doula work.
For three years, I served as a bereavement and birth doula, supporting clients emotionally and physically. During that time, I saw things in the hospital environment that I found concerning — things that made me want to bring change. My experiences as a birth doula were the catapult for my midwifery education..
“I realized there are a lot of young Black and Hispanic women who want to breastfeed but don’t have the support.”
I have breastfed all four of my children. Breastfeeding was not always perceived with support from my friends and family members. Insensitive comments were made, and some suggested I wean my children and give them bottles or formula. I knew breastfeeding was what was best for myself and my little ones. I never wanted any other parent to feel as though they did not have the support needed when breastfeeding, so I became a La Leche League leader and educator. I realized there are a lot of young Black and Hispanic women who want to breastfeed but don’t have the support.
The birth world is very interconnected. Birth professionals rely heavily on each other’s expertise, and often birth professionals are versed in several areas. I’ve trained as a doula, childbirth educator, and lactation educator. Now I’m a student midwife at the Midwives College of Utah (MCU). That’s how I met Tamara; she is my professor! I chose MCU because of its attempts to be inclusive, and I’m committed to addressing racial disparities in maternal healthcare. Tamara is a ray of sunshine. She’s been uplifting this whole time, encouraging me to do my schoolwork and take care of my family. “You’re going to finish,” she said.
While I complete my midwifery training, I am doing virtual lactation consultations with Magnolia clients. Virtual lactation appointments are amazing. You are able to help parents cope with the most common challenges, like positioning, latching, engorgement, and milk supply during a baby’s growth spurts all while the parents are in the comfort of their own home. During virtual appointments, I ask them to have someone else present to hold their phone or tablet so that I can see their latch. This helps me get a good look at the breast anatomy. With a two-screen set-up, I have a doll and a nipple that I use to demonstrate to the clients.
“It brings me the utmost joy to help women, especially women of color, reach their breastfeeding goals.”
It brings me the utmost joy to help women, especially women of color, reach their breastfeeding goals. Black women report lower breastfeeding rates at six months postpartum than their white counterparts. There is intergenerational and historical trauma surrounding the history of breastfeeding, and a lack of support for Black mothers, combined with postpartum mood disorders, has a significant impact on breastfeeding rates.
In Lubbock, Texas, where I live, there is a lack of diversity and representation. It’s a community that doesn’t otherwise have lactation support for parents. I see these women with endurance and strength, and they want to be successful. They meet with me and say, “Maybe I need to use formula,” but by the end of our call, the baby’s latching and the parent feels a sense of confidence. It brings me immense joy to know that I am bridging the gap in the comfort of a parent’s home or online for those who cannot access support locally. Helping parents is my passion.
As a lactation educator and student midwife, I love encouraging women to use their body and appreciate it — not to be fearful. Becoming a parent is full of learning experiences; hopefully I help ease the learning curve a bit.
In 2024, I’ll be moving to Miami to complete my clinical midwifery training at Magnolia. It feels like a full-circle moment, returning to the place where I spent my summers as a child.
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