marica
How do you define “mothering” in your own life—and has that definition changed over time?
Mothering in my own life…means being present, open, willing to receive feedback, seeking understanding and nurturing love. When I was little, it was adventures, laughs and allowing me the space to explore for myself. I’ve never been into the overbearing mothering energy. I take this question as a beautiful invitation to celebrate my mother. She gave me the space to explore. She was a young mom and by the time I came along, the youngest of three, she let us walk to school together, roam the neighborhood, and really just be kids. As I got older, we went on adventures together – bike riding, beach dates, and taking a new route home just for the fun of it. This has contributed to my free spiritedness, my feel the fear and do it anyway energy. I always feel protected, cared for and connected and for that I give thanks.
What has mothering revealed to you about who you are, beyond the roles you play?
Mothering my baby girl has shown me that I have been mothering others for a very long time. It has revealed that I have been mothering my parents, friends, and romantic partners and have in some senses neglected giving that energy to myself. We often believe that the mothering that we need stops after we move out of our parents’ home, but it just shifts as we experience more life. I know that I needed and still need my mother in new ever-changing ways as I grow in motherhood. In this season, I need her to affirm my knowing, console my cries, and square up when it’s time. My girl stays on ready.
What parts of your journey feel unseen, misunderstood, or unspoken—and deserve to be named out loud?
Wow, what a question. The parts of my journey that feel unseen is the struggle, the daily, minute by minute choosing to regulate myself over taking out my frustration on my baby. Frustration around caring for an individual that cannot speak yet has encounters outside of my control. In the middle of my 2nd trimester, I ended the relationship with Ori’s dad. At 5 weeks postpartum, he sued me for paternity and custody because I would not move at the pace he wanted me to. I have been in an unnecessary custody battle since my baby was born, which I feel like it has tainted my postpartum experience. I have shared in community and sometimes feel like since I am a beautiful, strong, Black woman who speaks clearly, directly, that I somehow deserve the chaos or people just don’t want to get involved. It’s heartbreaking sometimes.
How has your experience of mothering been shaped by your lineage, your culture, or the community around you?
My mothering experience has been an awakening for what has not worked in the past. I am the first of my known family members to nurse my baby, I choose to stay home to care for my baby, I am the first to do it boldly without forcing a relationship with a man that does not make me feel safe and supported as a mother. I don’t force anything. I am flowing with what feels good in my body. Being an embodied mother to my daughter is a revolutionary act – not only for my lineage, but for all of those who look like me. Do I sometimes feel pressure to be more productive, make more money, put my child in daycare, take her off my boob, pump her with poisonous vaccines – absolutely. But I make the decision to stand in my power daily, keeping my little one close so that she sees and feels what it is like to be an embodied human and spirit woman.
What was your postpartum experience like—emotionally, physically, and spiritually? What kind of support (or lack of it) did you receive during that time?
Postpartum has been the emotional roller coaster that I could have NEVER predicted for myself. I have been preparing my heart, mind, and body for this experience for 5+ years. I have cracked myself and my family open to understand what things were hidden, what stories have been weaving their way through my cells. I have learned many techniques to support myself in regulating my nervous system. I excavated my own mother and father wounds. I thought I was prepared. Do some of the techniques support me and my baby now, yes, but they are not enough. They change with the moment. I am not from NOLA, so my blood relatives are not here with me. There are many chosen family that stepped up in the first 6 months of Ori’s life that I could not thank enough. It feels though that the longer baby is here the less people seem to think I need help. The need just shifts, but it is crucial for my daily survival that help is not only provided, but offered.
If you could design the ideal postpartum care system, what would it look and feel like?
Love this question. I would say prepare a team that is dedicated to 3 months of rotating care at a time. Food and nutrition, especially when breastfeeding, is crucial to survival. The amount of time I have spent trying to decide and prepare food has been heartbreaking. Separate people by physical, emotional, and spiritual support and get commitment from each for what they have the capacity to do. There is so much that cannot be predicted. First 40 days of love and care and a total mindset shift for what it means to raise a child in this society. There is no such thing as get back to, there is only holding space for a mother’s becoming.
Can you share a moment of deep joy in your mothering journey—one that lives in your body?
A moment of deep joy that lives in my body is birthing Ori. I could feel her making her way down the canal, but the most profound thing that happened that day was once her little head came through, she took a deep breath. Her little body hadn’t even made its way out yet, but my girl connected to the work I do (teaching Black people how to breathe and be embodied) on the deepest level that she had to give me confirmation that we were in this together.
What grief, loss, or transformation has shaped the way you show up as a mother?
Grieving the old me who could move and be in a certain way has been tough. Also grieving that I will never be her again. There is no such thing as getting back to the old you, there is only becoming. The idea of “getting back to” is all a falsehood to keep us asleep after the biggest spiritual awakening a woman could ever experience. Knowing this, I mother from a more embodied and curious space. I allow the new me to unfold alongside my baby. The old me obtained tools and skills through life, work and relationships that can be called on to support who I am becoming.
How do you access healing—emotionally, spiritually, or ancestrally?
Wow. Emotional healing comes through conversation, breath, movement and a whole lot of tears. Spiritually – through expression, tears as libation, connecting with my community, listening to myself and my baby when others don’t seem to understand. Ancestrally – I have asked for guidance, and I listen to my baby.
Are there any rituals, practices, or traditions that keep you grounded?
Oh let me count the ways. Our days together are a ritual. We wake up with affirmations and nursing, open the blinds together, step outside. We do breathwork together. We sit at our altar together. We ring bells to clear the space and dance. We walk to connect with nature and connect with others. Also, I am constantly clearing and releasing so I call on my sister friends to support me in that through breath, conversation, dancing, stomping, and crying. I am not just doing this for myself, but for those that have come before me.
What does community care mean to you—and how do you invite others into your mothering journey to help bridge gaps of support, understanding, or visibility?
From the beginning I have been calling my community in to support me. Early in my postpartum experience when my 40 days was up and my mom went back to Hawaii, I knew that I would be alone to care for my baby. I texted a group of my chosen family to ask if they would have the capacity to support me once a week and for the first 5–6 months, I had 3 people dedicated to holding baby, cleaning, or just sharing space with me while I navigated early postpartum. Community care means asking and being asked what is needed, not just for baby, but for mama, specifically. Honoring what is asked and an individual’s capacity to show up.
To mother within systems that weren’t made for you is an act of resistance. How do you navigate, push against, or reimagine those systems in your everyday world?
I have leaned heavily on my spiritual knowing and practices to carry me through this experience. We are in some interesting times and with each month that passes, I feel myself awakening more and more. I realized around month 4 of postpartum that this country hates women and children. There is a constant attack on our psyches and bodies from the moment we conceive – the goal, to keep us disembodied, disempowered, and disease-ridden. I say this because at every turn, there is an attempt to scare us into not birthing at home, into thinking that our bodies have something wrong if we are of a certain age or skin tone, and once the baby arrives after you have done the most magical thing a human could ever do, they find new ways to break you through measurement of your baby’s growth on charts and graphs that don’t take into account how different each and every one of us is.
What do you want the world to understand about mothers like you?
I was not born to fit into this system, I was born to shift it.
What do you hope your child—or future generations—inherit from your story?
Mothering is a spiritual awakening. A space where multiple things that don’t seem to go together are true at the same time. What I mean by this is that I recently reflected on the fact that there is a constant cycle of grief and joy that I am on as my baby grows. Grieving the old me, old her that I have gotten used to – the scrunching, cooing, and somewhat predictive behavior – to new milestones and shifts that are new to me. This is where the joy comes in, watching her grow and navigate different aspects of the world is so exciting. So, I would say everything everywhere is happening all at once. Stay embodied. Check in with you first and the rest will follow. There is nothing outside of you that is greater than the power you hold within.
