Shirley Smith - Mama Bear: One Black Mothers Fight for Her Childs Life and Her Own

This book is dedicated to my mother, Bertina Marie Harris. Without your life I wouldnt have a story to tell. You are forever in my heart. Thank you for your life. Thank you for your struggle. Thank you for your strength and thank you for your transparency. And of course to my three Ds, my cubs, my beautiful virtuous daughtersDemi, Dakota, and Denver. As long as God gives me breath, I will do my best to show you the best version of myself and be an image that you will be proud to look up to.

This book was brewing in me since my days of being eight years old and hiding in the closet writing in my little diary. But it was a cold Sunday, in February 2018, a little more than a year after Id given birth to Dakota and shed survived 141 days in the NICU, that solidified the call for me to write my story. My ten-year-old Demi, my one-year-old Dakota, and I were away from our faith community in New Jersey, the Love of Jesus Family Church. We were in Ohio for JRs season on the road with the Cavaliers. I was pregnant with our next child, Denver, overwhelmed with postpartum blues, pregnancy blues, mama-of-a-preteen blues. Needless to say, it was a time when I needed Gods guidance.

On Saturday, the day before, I had a feeling and a push that said, Get into the house, meaning the church. I had a feeling to go to this different church, not one in Ohio I had tried visiting a few times. I was like, Really God? An hour drive to church? When I didnt receive a reply from God, I knew he wasnt playing. I felt the urge to invite my brothers girlfriend Jasmink to come with me. I thought to myself, God you are on a roll aint you? I dont even know if this girl goes to church.

I did as instructed, and when I did, another weight was lifted. When I called Jasmink, she responded with joy, I sure will. I need to go to church.

In the middle of the night that Saturday, I realized the devil was trying his best to keep me from making it out of the house to church the next morning. Dakota was off the hook the whole night. She was restless, congested, irritable, and I barely got any sleep. With JR on the road for work I had to cover the twenty-four-hour Dakota shift solo, alone.

Then, buzz, buzz, buzz. I was like, I know that is not my alarm going off already.Youve got to be kidding me. Then I thought, Eh, I can just go next week. I battled with my thoughts for about thirty minutes before peeling myself out of bed. I felt like crap and looked like Beetlejuice. What pulled me through was how good God has been to me and my family during those months that things were touch-and-go with Dakotas life. I realized that the least I could do was go into the house and personally thank him. Besides, I was always taught that there is a blessing in your pressing. I got my pregnant self up, got Dakota dressed, told Demi to get ready, got Jasmink, and got on the road.

All sorts of foolishness was going on as we drove to church. My Bluetooth connection was cutting on and off, so the gospel music we had planned for the hour drive was a no-go. It was freeze-raining, making the roads treacherous, and it was ten degrees. Then, we got lost.

We finally made it to the Burning Bush Church in Akron, Ohio, and skated inside to catch the tad bit of praise and worship that was still taking place. We were an hour late, but on time for what was next to come.

The minister talked about power moves and how it was time to breathe life into any dream you thought was dead. I will never forget how specifically he said, Its time to write that book!

All I could think was, Wow God! This is why you were pressing me.

All I could remember was standing there like a statue with Dakota on my hip, Demi at my side, and my new baby, Denver, in my womb. I was standing in the moment of grace and purpose after everything that I had been through. All I needed to do next was be obedient to Gods plan.

This book is so important to me, because I want to help shed light on an issue that is foreign to many people. Black American women are twice as likely to lose their babies to preterm birth than their white counterpartsand almost four times as likely to experience maternal mortality. We have a 50 percent greater chance of dying in the period immediately following childbirth than our mothers before us. Basically, our children are endangered before being born.

There are many factors that contribute to infant and maternal mortality that disproportionately affect Black American women, like early life traumas of physical abuse and neglect, and ongoing life stressors including experiencing extreme and moderate racism on a regular basis. Living with that kind of lifelong stress impacts Black American womens ability to fight off and recover from disease, and puts us and our infants at greater risk of losing our lives during the physical stress of childbearing and labor.

Living with childbirth as a health risk seems unthinkable in the age of modern medicine in America. But recent articles and studies have brought this issue of racial disparity in infant and maternal mortality rates to the public eye.

No one is immune: Both tennis champion Serena Williams and six-time Olympic track-and-field gold medalist Allyson Felix experienced life-threatening complications during childbirth despite their health-conscious lifestyles and professional and financial success. Beyonc appeared on the cover of Vogue in September 2018 and detailed in its pages her experience with toxemia and the birth of her premature twins.

I am the wife of NBA Champion and All-Star JR Smith. I am yet another Black woman who despite doing everything right found myself stretched beyond endurance by the health complications of a severely preterm birth.

In this book, I offer the 141-day ordeal of fighting for my own life and that of my second daughter, Dakota, who is among the worlds youngest preemies ever to survive. I parallel this journey with the story of my early life. Born into a childhood struggle to survive my mothers drug addiction, I had to take care of myself and my brother.

It is my story of loss, resilience, and the maternal instincts I gained over a lifetime that made all the difference when I entered the emergency room at the end of my twenty-first week of pregnancy on New Years Day. I didnt bring my child home until May of that new year. The joys and pains of my life continue, but in the midst of it all, I hold to my belief in God, my family, and my love of journaling as the beacons to guide me in moments when I feel lost from myself.

I have written this book because it sheds light on the mind and body of someone who has lived the life that studies have concluded leads to maternal health issues and preterm birth. My story humanizes this Black-woman reality.

It is good to understand the whole journey of preterm birth so that we can look back and acknowledge the pain and make a promise to our bodies and to our children that we will heal and help them to see a brighter day. We cant help it that we had limited tools. We cant help it that our bodies held all of that multigenerational pain and disease. But we want our childrens bodies to be the vessels of Gods will. So we have to tell our complicated birth stories and tell the complicated life stories that led to that moment. Through sharing my story, I know I can lift someone up who is experiencing the same life challenges.

This book is more than the story of giving birth to one of the worlds youngest preemies. I offer hope through the wisdom I gained by surviving childhood hardships. I offer my stories of looking for love, and eventually building love, with my husband, JR. I run the hope straight through the hardship to the day I thought all was wonderful in my life, where the difficulties of growing up with a mother on crack and an absent father seemed like they were behind me, only to have a stomachache in the middle of my pregnancy that turned out to be my daughter Dakotas birthday at only twenty-two weeks. I offer you the story of the Black superwoman breaking point. That breaking point was the moment that gave me the courage to look back at the building blocks of my life and heal, for myself and for my children. It was the point from which I gained the strength to start a nonprofit, My Kota Bear, that helps other families with preemies.