I was nervous to take maternity leave.
In the last few months I’ve seen many companies announce revamped benefits plans 🤏🏾🤏🏾. I’ve also seen people celebrate departures for parental leave and share joyful “I’m back!” posts. 🎉 We love to see it.
But here’s the quiet part that doesn’t always get said out loud.
Even though I was ready on paper to take leave, I was terrified. Not because I was worried about my job. Not because I knew life would suddenly revolve around not one, but TWO tiny humans with needs they couldn’t yet explain 🤣.
I was worried I wouldn’t survive to come back to work.
It feels strange to type that out loud. But in a LinkedIn world where we share so much, this is one of those truths that rarely gets said publicly: We don’t all face the same risks when giving birth.
Back in 2020, I started doing live interviews with people across the health and wellness spectrum — moms, aspiring moms, women who didn’t want to be moms, doctors, doulas, and everyone in between. During one interview, an obstetrics nurse told a story that has stayed with me.
She shared that a patient once called the police from her hospital room because she wasn’t getting help for her pain. I laughed at first because of how casually the nurse told the story. Then we both sat in silence.
“That’s crazy,” I said.
“I actually tell all my patients to do it,” she replied.
Six years later, that moment still sits heavy with me. Over the years I’ve watched many peers go on parental leave. Most talked about the usual concerns — sleep deprivation, diapers, newborn routines. Meanwhile I sat at my desk, belly practically on my keyboard, wondering something completely different: If my C-section had complications…Would I even make it back?
At my 14-week appointment, my doctor calmly listed five risk factors related to my pregnancy and overall survival. Number five on the list? Being Black.
Earlier this year the CDC released maternal mortality data from 2024. Out of every 100,000 live births in the United States:
14 White women died
18 Asian women died
12 Hispanic women died
45 Black women died
Every number on that list is too many. But one number is more than three times higher than the others. When I officially left work at 36 weeks, everything felt very real. I told my husband plainly: “If something feels wrong, make noise. Make a scene if you have to. ”
Even with therapy and mental health support, the fear was still there. As I learned more about stories like Kira Johnson’s — a mother who died after internal bleeding following a C-section — I realized that what I was feeling wasn’t irrational. It was informed. And if you’re pregnant, I’ll offer one piece of advice: I do not recommend going down that research rabbit hole while expecting.
This week is Black Maternal Health Week, and I’ve been sitting with a few truths:
The joy of parenthood is enormous.
The journey to become a parent can be incredibly hard.
And the outcomes for women who look like me in that journey are still deeply unequal.
Those three things can exist at the same time. If you’re ready, I’m open to having THAT conversation.