Far From Home, Finding Community

There are moments in life when you realize just how far away home really is. For me, that moment came when I found out I was pregnant. As a Black immigrant living in the United States, I had no idea what pregnancy was really going to be like. Back home, pregnancy was something you experienced with family around. Mothers, grandmothers, sisters, aunties, neighbors, there was always someone who had walked the journey before you.

Here, it was just me and my husband. We are both first-time parents, learning as we go, while our families are thousands of miles away.

For the first six weeks, I honestly didn't know what to do. My primary care provider referred me to an OB-GYN, so the medical side of pregnancy was beginning to fall into place. But I quickly realized pregnancy isn't only physical. It became emotional, too.

Some days, the morning sickness felt endless. After spending hours throwing up, I would lie in bed praying that the next day would be easier before I could even think about getting ready for school or work. I cried more than I expected to. Between classes, work, and the physical changes happening to my body, I often felt like I was barely keeping my head above water.

What surprised me most was how lonely pregnancy could feel. My parents were incredibly supportive, especially my mother. We talked often, and her words gave me comfort. But there are limits to what even the strongest phone call can do when the person you need most is an ocean away. 

Growing up, mental health wasn't something we openly discussed. You were expected to be strong, to keep going, to be grateful. So, when I found myself feeling anxious and emotionally exhausted, I didn't always have the language to explain what I was experiencing. I just knew I needed someone who understood.

Then I began my fellowship with the Colorado Black Health Collaborative. What I found wasn't just an organization; it was a community.

For the first time since becoming pregnant, I was surrounded by Black women and Black mothers who understood the questions I didn't even know how to ask. I learned about resources I never knew existed. I met people who reminded me that asking for help is not a weakness and that I didn't have to navigate pregnancy alone. 

My circumstances haven't magically changed. I'm still an immigrant. I'm still far from my family. I'm still learning how to become a mother. 

But today, I have something I didn't have during those first few weeks. I have a community, a sense of direction.

My anxiety has eased because I know where to turn when I have questions. I know there are people who understand my experiences, who listen without judgment, and who remind me that my health, both physical and mental is important.

As I prepare to welcome my child into the world, I hope every Black mother, especially those navigating pregnancy far from home, can find that same sense of community. No one should have to navigate pregnancy alone.

Sometimes, what we need most isn't another appointment or another brochure. Sometimes, we simply need someone to say,

"I've been there, and you're not alone." 

Organizations like the Colorado Black Health Collaborative remind us that maternal health is about more than doctor's appointments and delivery rooms. It's about community. It's about being seen. It's about knowing that when the journey feels overwhelming, you don't have to walk it alone. 

I may still be learning what it means to become a mother, but thanks to the women I've met through CBHC, I no longer feel like I'm doing it by myself. And for me, that has made all the difference. 

info@cololoradoblackhealth.org | Phone: 720.579.2126

www.coloradoblackhealth.org