There are moments in life that you don’t just remember—you carry them. They live in your nervous system. They linger in your prayers. They shape how you see the world.
As I revisited my journal notes from April 15–16, 2024, I realized that what happened inside Room 3347 at CaroMont Regional Medical Center was not only the story of my grandson’s birth—it was also a living snapshot of something much bigger: the sacred strength of Black motherhood and the sobering reality of the Black maternal health crisis.
Birth is one of the most profound intersections of the physical, emotional, and spiritual. It is holy and hopeful… and terrifying. That week—Black Maternal Health Week—made the contrast impossible to ignore.
The following are excerpts from that night, along with the thoughts and prayers I still carry to this day.
The Long Night: Room 3347
We checked into the hospital at 5:30 PM. Makensie was only one centimeter dilated, and the induction process began.
As families do in hospital rooms, we tried to create comfort in an uncomfortable place. We ate BBQ from Hillbilly’s. We settled into the rhythms of beeping monitors and quiet waiting. We made space for hope, even in the uncertainty.
But by 9:30 PM, the pain began rising—steady and relentless. Demetrius helped Makensie into the bath as her contractions intensified. And I sat in the corner with my 30 Days with Jesus workbook, reminding myself that sometimes the most powerful thing a mother can do is pray while her child fights.
In those hours, the spiritual and physical became one:
As Makensie labored in the water, I labored in prayer.
3:00 AM in the Lounge Chair: A Witness to Endurance
By midnight, Makensie began asking for relief. I watched the clock. I watched her body. I watched her courage.
At 3:00 AM, she crawled onto the sofa beside Demetrius, trying to find any position that offered even a fraction of comfort. When the nurse asked her pain level, Makensie answered with one word:
“Dead.”
That word landed in my chest like a stone.
As her mother—and as someone highly sensitive—I could feel my heart breaking with every contraction she endured. And what made it worse was knowing how often Black women’s pain is underestimated, delayed, dismissed, or minimized.
Makensie did not receive pain medication until 6:00 AM.
Those hours stayed with me—not just emotionally, but physically. Because anxiety doesn’t only live in the mind. It lives in the body. Waiting for help when someone you love is suffering… changes you.
The “Tug of War”: Welcome to the World, Myles
On April 16 at 3:55 PM, after what felt like a literal tug-of-war with the midwife, Myles arrived.
And in that moment, Makensie became even more than she already was:
A warrior.
A mother.
A living example of resilience.
There is something sacred about witnessing a woman push life into the world. It is a holy kind of strength. The kind you never forget.
Honoring a Legacy: Dr. Jannell Green Smith
Our joy was profound—but it was not untouched by grief.
Around that time, Makensie and I were devastated to learn of the passing of Dr. Jannell Green Smith, lovingly known as the “Loc’d Midwife.” She dedicated her life to advocating for Black maternal health—yet tragically lost her own life while giving birth.
Her death is more than heartbreaking. It is a clarion call.
It reminds us of a sobering truth:
Even knowledge does not guarantee safety.
Even training does not erase systemic risk.
Even advocates are vulnerable.
And it reinforces why we must keep speaking, keep learning, and keep pushing for change.
Looking Toward Moses: Wisdom for the Next Generation
Makensie is now expecting her second son, Moses, due during Black History Month. And while pregnancy is beautiful, it is also demanding. With iron infusions and the physical toll of carrying new life, we are reminded again that maternal health is not a one-time moment—it is an ongoing journey of advocacy and care.
At Shepherd Way Counseling, we believe maternal health is more than just medical.
It is mental health.
Because birth trauma, anxiety, fear, grief, and the weight of “what could have happened” stay with a woman long after the baby comes home.
That weight does not disappear just because everyone says, “But you’re fine now.”
If you are navigating a high-risk pregnancy—or healing after a difficult birth—you do not have to carry that alone.
Counselor’s Corner: Maternal Health Is Mental Health
Maternal health isn’t just a medical issue. It is a mental health priority.
The anxiety of waiting for pain medication.
The fear of being dismissed.
The grief of losing leaders and advocates.
The hypervigilance that follows trauma.
These experiences stay in the body.
And they deserve support, not silence.
