Black Maternal Health Week 2026 & I Just Had Another Baby…

Chardá Watkins, IBCLC, CBE, CD
24 hours ago
5 min read

(All Photo Rights Reserved by Melanin Milk SD)

I quietly gave birth 11 days ago, most folks didn't know I was pregnant. This pregnancy was sacred, it is my last. I didn't want to share it, I didn't want the noise that comes with pregnancy announcements. So I stayed offline for these precious months. I wanted peace, and for me that meant being present with my body, my baby and my family as I grew this final baby blessing. If you know me and my life story, you know that getting pregnant with my last baby was a journey. So, it came as quite a wonderful surprise that we unexpectedly conceived another baby girl just a year after the last. Our beautiful sweet girls are just 19 months apart.

(All Photo Rights Reserved by Melanin Milk SD)

Now that I'm postpartum for the last time, I keep thinking about how this moment is supposed to feel. Soft. Slow. Full of love and rest and healing. The kind of time where you’re just learning your baby, learning your body again, and letting yourself exist in this new version of life. But that’s not what this has been.

I had a rather traumatic experience leading up to my birth. I developed preeclampsia and I had to delivery my baby at 28 weeks. My beautiful baby is in the NICU, growing healthy and strong. God's timing is always the right timing, she wasn't early, she is where she needs to be when she needs to be. I'm thankful she and I are here safely.

(All Photo Rights Reserved by Melanin Milk SD)

Instead of a peaceful recovery, I’ve been waist deep in emails, explaining myself, advocating for myself, and honestly… fighting in ways I shouldn’t have to during my postpartum time.

This year’s Black Maternal Health Week 2026 theme is “Rooted in Justice and Joy” and it feels almost ironic when you’re living in the tension between the two. There is no joy when you’re constantly being pushed into advocacy mode. There is no softness when you’re being forced to defend your right to make decisions about your own body and your own work.

I was medically cleared to work, by my choice.

I wasn’t placed on disability, there were no restrictions from my doctor.

I was willing and able to do my job remotely, as it is listed in my job description.

But my job made the decision for me anyway. That’s the part that keeps sitting with me.

They told me I should be off. They forced me to use my sick leave. And then tried pushing me into using my parental leave, the same leave I had planned to save for when my baby comes home from the NICU.

And if you know, you know that NICU parenting shifts everything in your life.

The timeline for postpartum isn’t the same as when you leave the hospital with your baby.

I was trying to be intentional and rational about things. Work now while I can, save my leave for when my baby is actually home with me, when I can be fully present in the way I envisioned. That was my plan. That was me exercising autonomy. And it was taken from me.

Now I’ve exhausted my sick leave. I’m sitting in negative hours. And I’m in the position of having to advocate to be allowed to work… not because I have to, but because I should be able to choose. That’s what gets me. The choice. Or the lack of it.

We talk a lot about maternal health disparities, and most of the time the conversation stops at the hospital. But justice doesn’t end when you’re discharged. Justice follows you into your workplace, into your leave policies, to the pharmacy, and into how people talk about your body and your medical experiences. Justice is the constant struggle that we adapt our bodies and our minds to deal with even when we are tired of fighting.

Justice is being trusted to make decisions about your own life. Not having assumptions made about your health. Not being forced into something you didn’t consent to.

And while I’ve been navigating all of this, I came across a recent YouTube video by Joel Bervell,MD about a Black mother and professional doula who was brought into court on Zoom while she was in labor because she refused a C-section. Let that soak in, in labor, on Zoom, fighting for her right to make decisions about her own body in real time.

This is heavy. I sat and I cried as I mourned the loss of her autonomy and mine.

Because even though our situations are different, they come from the same systemic pattern.

The same lack of trust in Black women to know what’s best for ourselves.

It’s like no matter where we are whether it be a hospital room or our workplace, we are still being asked to prove that we deserve autonomy.

And in the midst of all of that, I’m still trying to find the joy. Because there is joy.

There are moments where it sneaks in quietly like when I'm in the NICU holding my baby. The feeling when my milk supply started to increase after everything my body has been through. The way my baby is here despite all odds and it reminds me that something beautiful is still happening, and I regain my faith, my Imani.

(All Photo Rights Reserved by Melanin Milk SD)

Joy shouldn’t have to fight this hard to exist. That is what I'm having trouble processing. I shouldn't have to carve out joy in between stress and systems and survival. During this time, it should be there without interruption. And still, me and so many other Black women are navigating situations that make it nearly impossible.

The Black Mamas Matter Alliance picked this theme for a reason. Because Black mothers have always been rooted in resilience, in advocacy, in showing up even when systems fail us. But I think a lot of us, including myself, are tired of resilience being the expectation.

We don’t just want to survive these experiences. We want to live in the present, fully, safely, joyfully.

As I write this, 11 days postpartum, pumping, working and advocating, I will continue to fight because I'm not the only person this is happenign to and our stories matter. This is why I'm sharing mine.

Even while fighting for justice, I’m still holding on to my joy. I'm being intentional and protective of it, because I deserve it.

I just had a baby. And that...should be enough.