When she unexpectedly became pregnant with her first baby, her first “beautiful surprise”, Sandra thought she’d know how to handle the challenges of motherhood. “I was anxious but also thought I could do it, if my mum could do it with four girls on her own,” she told me.
Before becoming a mother, Sandra had lived her life carrying the burden handed to Black women and girls from birth: the need to always be ‘OK’. The thought that she’d struggle with postpartum depression never even crossed her mind.
“Something I’ve always said is that I’m strong. I’m resilient, I bounce back... But I now know that [attitude is] detrimental, not just to our mental health, but our physical health as well,” Sandra said.
She explained that this ‘strong, Black woman’ trope is something that has not only been perpetuated by healthcare services, but also by some in the Black community.
“I think we do have a part to play in how we glamorise or glorify strength. I don't think strength is something that we should have to carry on our shoulders.”
Disregarded and dehumanised
Pregnant for the first time, Sandra wanted to feel seen. She wanted to feel safe.
“[During antenatal appointments] I found my midwife quite cold… She never really looked me in my eyes.”
Sandra wondered why her midwife didn’t seem to like her. She tried small talk, she even tried jokes. Nothing seemed to work. She didn’t understand why she couldn’t get her midwife to crack even the smallest smile.
“Feeling anxious, I was just hoping that [the midwife] would reassure me that I'd be OK.”
She hoped that at the very least, caregivers would call her by her name.