Conversations Before The First Cry
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THE STORY I HADNT TOLD YET
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THE MOMENT
If you follow me on Instagram, you would know by now that I am a mother to a beautiful baby girl.
It took me some time to share this part of my life because I believe certain things should be shared long after the fact. Like getting married, having children, pursuing higher education, purchasing a home, amongst many other achievements.
For months, I thought over and over about how I would share this with the world, and I finally settled on this.
I was so nervous. My stomach literally felt like it was in a knot. For the first time, I truly understood what Drake meant when he said, “I’m not hiding my kid from the world, I’m hiding the world from my kid.”
The moment finally feels right because I’ve gained enough knowledge in this new journey so far and feel as though I am “stable” enough—mentally, physically and emotionally—to share.
I didn’t tell you sooner because it felt too soon. And I wanted to hold on to this private aspect of my life for just a little longer.
Before I became a mom, I was often slight, unintentional, carefree, amongst many other youthful terms.
Let’s dive a little deeper into her journey.
THE WOMAN YOU MET FIRST
If you were previously exposed to me in real life or on social media, you would probably describe me as a registered nurse, instructor/teacher, planner, hard worker and, for the most part, put together.
I was a sleeper. Midnight wouldn’t catch me awake. I loved slow mornings, my ambition was through the roof, and I was focused on ME.
I planned every step of my life, and I knew exactly where I was going.
I was obsessed with helping other women who wanted to become nurses and expanding my financial knowledge. My purpose was to help, and the only way I knew how to do so was through my lived experience of becoming a nurse.
I thought my life was going to look like this: finish university, get a job at a hospital, find a more wholesome job in nursing, and then start elevating myself through small and big upgrades.
I bought a car. Changed jobs. And when I was about to get my new tattoo and start my braces treatment, I found out I was pregnant.
I didn’t want motherhood to be my first entry because I didn’t want to leave you with the impression that I was trying to influence you to buy into the idea of becoming a mother.
I wanted to let you know that I understand exactly where you are now and why you may be afraid. I’m not here to encourage nor discourage you.
I also wasn’t ready for the common assumptions people make when they find out you’re a mother:
“Your body mash up.”
“You supposed to bruck now.”
“Your life gone.”
Amongst many others.
I hope when you think of me, you think of a different kind of motherhood—one that is honest and backed by my lived experiences.
If motherhood disappeared from my story tomorrow, I want you to always remember that I am a woman who will forever share my lived experiences with you, so you can join these conversations and take the nuggets you find helpful.
This isn’t your typical mommy blog!
It’s a space held by me that invites you into deeper perspectives, questions and conversations.
I hope you see the woman behind the mother.
Welcome to The Mothership: Conversations Before the First Cry.
LOOKING BACK
From the outside, motherhood looked pretty straightforward.
Get pregnant. Endure all the complications of pregnancy as they came. Labour. Delivery. Raise the child in the perfect little way I had created in my head. And overcome every obstacle because “it won’t last forever.”
I thought pregnancy would be morning sickness, back pain, constantly wanting to pee, a big nose, a possible increase in shoe size, amongst many other things.
The way I thought I would raise my child was so simple and straightforward that I laughed when other mothers said it was hard. I would think to myself, You’re just overthinking it, or you’re not trying hard enough.
I thought the journey of pregnancy itself followed a predictable sequence:
Have sex. Positive pregnancy test. Doctor’s visits. Ultrasounds. Labour. Delivery. Baby.
I thought I could control the way I would feel during pregnancy, and I quickly learned that was the one thing I couldn’t control.
After everyone found out I was pregnant, I got advice across many hemispheres.
“Don’t tie string on the baby navel.”
“Don’t take an unchristened child outside after certain hours.”
“Don’t purchase a lot of baby clothes.”
“Walk slower.”
I could go on, because there were hundreds.
Not to mention social media!
Geeesh!
Talk about overwhelming.
But with all the advice, no one gave me advice about what to do when I felt doomed. When I felt like I wasn’t doing enough. When I felt like a failure. When I messed up as a mother.
Because no one wants to talk about the dark moments.
And I can’t blame them. Not everything must be shared on social media.
But what about in our intimate circles?
Aren’t they for intimate conversations?
I wished someone would ask me, “What exactly do you need?”
Not, “Are you hungry?”
Not, “Are you thirsty?”
Don’t be specific. Be broad.
So I can truly dig into my world and figure out what I need.
I wanted to tell them I needed a back massage. A facial. A day at the beach. Things you wouldn’t necessarily expect a pregnant woman to say.
I felt like practical questions also left the chat.
How many onesies do I need?
How many boxes of diapers?
Wipes are endless, okay.
And A&D ointment—even when you don’t think you need it, you need it.
Early tip!
I knew I was in a completely different ball game when I realised going to the supermarket wasn’t just going to the supermarket anymore.
I had to ensure I could carry my baby, push the trolley, bend and stretch to reach shelves, all while being aware of my surroundings and trying to keep my baby awake so she didn’t sleep all day and stay up all night.
The supermarket looked completely different to me.
I now spent more time in the baby aisle collecting data on products and prices and comparing them to online retailers. Purchasing groceries as a whole became more meaningful.
And that’s when I knew the supermarket routine—along with almost every other routine in my life—needed to change.
Before motherhood, I thought:
I got this!
Looking back now, I realise I had the right mindset.
I was just lacking the tools and guidance.
THE SHIFT
After becoming a mother, that’s when a fire of intentionality arose in me.
I questioned every single thing in this life I ever thought I knew.
I used to think mothers who struggled just hadn’t found the formula for their specific issue. Now, I realise the struggle is the entire process: defining the problem, looking for evidence of the problem, creating solutions, and finding the tools to execute those solutions.
Overnight, sacrifice became important.
I had to sacrifice sleep. My body for breastfeeding and comfort. My mind for planning.
I was so fearful of failing my daughter that I planned and planned and overplanned. I threw out plans and redid them constantly.
The way I envisioned my future self had always been a big priority for me. I planned to get tattoos, braces and upgrade my wardrobe. Then, after becoming pregnant, those things were removed from the list of priorities and carefully stored under “future plans”—with no end date.
I could no longer wake up and bed rot until I felt like it.
I could no longer starve because I had no appetite.
I couldn’t drink three to four cups of coffee per day.
Some of my habits had to change, and they needed to change fast.
I was now interested in conversations about baby development, modern parenting, childhood trauma, understanding my own traumas and how not to let them become the same for my daughter.
I started noticing pregnant women more. Single mothers. Married couples. Unmarried couples.
As long as you had a child, I was paying attention to you.
It was inevitable. There was always something to learn from you.
What was surprising, however, was how many pregnant women I observed. Almost everywhere I went, there was a pregnant woman.
What was also surprising was that you could see the mothers who appeared to have it all together and those who seemed as though they were on the brink of falling apart.
But when you spoke to some of those who seemed to “have it all together,” they were also on the brink of falling apart.
It just didn’t show.
I gained a newfound respect for mothers of more than one child. You are truly one of God’s strongest soldiers—especially mothers of boys only, two under two, and twins.
You plan for multiple children. Schedules. Clothes. Investments. You are planning your future and the futures of more than one little person.
I have one, and I feel like I’m grasping at straws.
But two?!
My hat’s off to you.
Everything that never seemed to matter before became of grave importance. Things like understanding which months of the year in Jamaica had the most maternal deaths, when hospitals had the most admissions for labour and delivery, and when maternity wards had the most stock.
After all this observation, I began to question:
What systems could I create for myself to make this more manageable?
A system that was for me and me alone.
I thought motherhood would change my life.
I didn’t expect it to change the way I saw the world as much as it did.
WHY JOURNAL ENTRY 001 HAD TO COME FIRST
I started with the country before telling my own story because I didn’t want you to believe I was trying to influence you to have a child.
I wanted you to understand that I understand the challenges more deeply because I was you, and now I am me.
And I’m stretching my hand across the bridge to prepare you for what could be next.
Whenever next feels right…
Now that you know I’m a mother and we are clear about my intentions, I hope you understand that I am your sister, auntie, cousin, friend, pen pal—just sharing the nuggets from this journey that I have learnt along the way.
THE STORY I’M REALLY TRYING TO TELL
My journal isn’t centred around me, but my own experiences have opened the door to conversations I don’t see being had enough—or even at all.
I hope to dive into the quiet moments of motherhood that people either ignore, neglect or simply have never thought about.
I hope that as the journey continues, I will continue to ask questions, and you will join me in finding answers to those same questions while asking questions of your own.
I called this season The Mothership because it’s an endless ship, but it’s only one aspect of my life that I am sharing right now.
These are conversations I believe we need to have before we even get to the actual baby in hand.
This season, I want you to think:
Is this for me?
Is it actually possible?
What did you do?
What can I do?
I once asked a neurosurgeon, “What do you think about having a child in this economy?”
He said, “It doesn’t hurt to plan.”
It resonated with me because it really doesn’t hurt to plan. If you fail to plan, you plan to fail. So have some sort of plan.
I hope that through these entries, you will leave with something—understanding, knowledge, or even more questions.
These are conversations not often had.
I hope we can build a community.
THE VILLAGE…
LOOKING AHEAD
In the coming weeks, we will dive into everything!
From the moment I suspected I was pregnant, down to the moment my daughter was born and I looked into her bright eyes.
I am excited to talk about the experiences I’ve had throughout this journey, both inside and outside my home—from hospitals and doctors to hotels, financial institutions and everything in between.
My promise to you, reader, is not to influence you, but to hold your hand and guide you based on my very own lived experience.
QUESTION TO CARRY
Have you ever waited for the right time to tell your story?
Until next Sunday,
Zu
