G-DAY (2015)

It was on no one’s bingo card that I would be pregnant in New York City less than one year after moving from the South. I was never someone who thought the idea of having kids was lit. As a hyper independent woman with mountains of childhood trauma, a high value of her own time and space and endless big dreams, it was a no for me. Having children meant my sense of freedom would be completely turned upside down. 

I had been thugging it out from a young age in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Creating and recreating. Learning and unlearning. Escaping from poverty and a heavily dysfunctional upbringing. And surviving pretty damn well for myself. After completing my MBA and wrapping up 8 years in Houston, I decided to jump off the cliff and move myself to NYC. 

When I drove myself across the country and arrived in December 2013, I was single. For the first few months, I was maneuvering my housing situation and trying to land a permanent position in the television space. By April, I was settled in my own spot in Bed-Stuy and had accepted a full-time marketing gig with a TV and streaming service in Manhattan. Boom. I wasn’t new to miracles and was so grateful that God was covering me so many miles away from my previous comfort zones. 

I had met someone during one of my previous NYC visits when I was still living in Houston. We talked for a bit and eventually the long distance split it. When I finally moved to Brooklyn, he started hitting me back up to reconnect. Eventually we did and before we knew it, we were completely synced up. 

In the summer of 2013 we had a pregnancy scare. This is where life gets strange. As someone who never clung to the idea of having kids, I was actually disappointed that I wasn’t pregnant. We decided, again, very strangely given all the circumstances, to intentionally try again. I had the ovulation calendar on my phone and everything. By August 2013, those pink lines were on that pregnancy test. 

He was born and raised in Brooklyn and I hadn’t even met a small portion of his family yet. A few days after we found out I was pregnant, his grandmother passed away. He was very close with her and his mother, the oldest sister of the family, had been taking care of her. We quickly decided that if we had a girl, we would name her after his grandmother. 

Pregnancy symptoms set in quickly and life came at me fast. I had no family or support system in NYC and had just started my new job. For 3 long months, I was once again thugging it out and in survival mode. Long nauseous commutes to and from work on the train. Dealing with all the body changes. Desperately trying to find the right OBGYN doctor in a system I was utterly unfamiliar with. Life in New York City is not for the weak, but as a mom, even tougher. 

We eventually got our apartment together in a calm and newer neighborhood in Brooklyn. I began to get closer with his humungous Guyanese family and started to tell my coworkers. Before I knew it, I was walking around fully as a pregnant woman. Navigating being a soon to be new mother in a very new city. I was figuring it out. 

Time moved so beautifully. We celebrated our pregnancy across 3 cities, including our 300 person Brooklyn baby shower with a DJ, comedy set (lol) and thousands of dollars in gift cards. I had a smooth birth on May 3, 2015 in Manhattan and was able to get through postpartum depression and settle in as a mom here. We’ve been the utmost blessed in schooling, extra curricular activities, traveling and her growth and learning has been so special to watch. 

I don’t vividly know what was happening in my psyche when I decided to get pregnant. This is how divinity works. Maybe the wounded 7 year old girl still inside of me was advocating for this opportunity to give a kid all the many things I didn’t have growing up. All I know is, my baby was supposed to be in this world exactly how she was. With her exact parents and current life experiences. 

This journey has healed me exponentially. I was welcomed into the most beautiful family culture that I could ever imagine, even as a co-parent. Her grandparents are God sent, every single day they love her deeper than the ocean. I have a whole gang of nieces and nephews and a bomb auntie crew that makes me feel so safe and supported in my motherhood. I have even been able to heal my own family relationships with my mom and siblings during this experience. 

So as I type this on a plane, sitting next to my kid as we head to celebrate her 11th birthday - I’m honestly fighting back happy tears. I am in awe that I have singlehandedly broken a million generational curses through being her mom. Even throughout all the hard navigating, I consciously made that decision from the moment she was born and I conquer it daily. Violence, drugs, addictions, jail, toxicity, whoopings, anxiety around finances, transportation, resources and opportunities - she’s experienced none of it in all of her 11 years. Even as we’ve been co-parenting for the majority of her life, she’s never witnessed a drop of dysfunction. All she knows is love, support, stability and pure joy. Such a healthy ass life that I am forever grateful for. 

I could never be the type of mom I am if she wasn’t the type of kid she is. Or without the extremely safe and solid partnership I have with her dad and his family. Or my sisters near and far that have poured into me and supported me since day 1. 

I still pinch myself thinking about how I am so healthily raising a little girl from Brooklyn. Wow. 

SHANI