What is BlaXis?

Praxis = ongoing process of action + reflection

BlaXis = Black Praxis

A Black space for the practice of theory.

A space for Black Thought.

A Space for Black Liberation.

A Space for Black Healing.

A space for Black Love.

A Space for my voice and yours.

A space for Black Futures.

A Space where Black Lives have ALWAYS mattered.


One thought on “What is BlaXis?

  1. Hey, I don’t know you and you don’t know me, but we have almost 30 mutual friends on Facebook and one of them recently commented on your link to this blog entry, which I saw on my newsfeed. From the title, I knew your writing would hit me hard, but I’m so glad I opened that link and I just wanted thank you and remind you once again that you’re not alone. You see, my husband and I went through a very similar thing last year. Having been together for almost a decade at that point, we were overjoyed to find out we were unexpectedly pregnant last summer. I always dreamed of being a young mom but with graduate studies and real life responsibilities hitting both me and my husband hard, we knew it could be a while before we could have a child and weren’t planning on trying for a few more years. When I got pregnant, all of our concerns (financial and otherwise) fell by the wayside and we were so SO happy. It truly felt like a gift from God, and we’re not even religious or spiritual people. Anyway, within a week of finding out the news, around the 5 week mark, I started bleeding. It was very slight at first and my mom urged me to calm down. She said slight bleeding is not unheard of in normal pregnancies and that everything would be fine. I wanted to believe her, but deep down I knew it was ending before it even really started. By the end of the evening I was bleeding heavily and then it was all over. I was beyond devastated. My husband did his best to stay strong on both our behalf. He kept it together when I couldn’t and when, in an admittedly emotional line of thinking, I suggested we kick our goals to the side and just go ahead and try again immediately, he was very supportive. My gynecologist assured us there was no harm in trying again especially since my pregnancy ended so early. In fact, she didn’t even call it a miscarriage. We were told anything before 6 weeks is called a chemical pregnancy and she said they were par for the course. According to her, 70% of first pregnancies end within a few short days or a week of conception and most women don’t even know they’ve had a chemical (it’s called a chemical because even though a pregnancy test is positive, the fertilized egg never actually physically implanted to the uterus). It’s only because I felt “off” and tested early that I even knew I was pregnant. Had I not done so, my period just would’ve been a few days late, nothing unusual. This medical analysis was mildly reassuring.
    Anyway, my husband and I tried again and we got pregnant immediately, even before I had one “normal” period (call me Fertile Myrtle). We were over the moon! I felt like we were finally going to have our little bundle of joy. In fact, I was even convinced that the first pregnancy was really just a “trial” intended to help my husband and I tap into how much we really wanted a child sooner than we had originally thought we did. The first few weeks of the second pregnancy were fraught with anxiety, however. Every cramp had me running to the bathroom to check for blood. Every single trip to the bathroom to pee had me checking the toilet paper to make sure there was no red. I was excited to be pregnant of course, but the chemical pregnancy had me terrified that things could go wrong at any minute. It was awful and I felt like I was losing my mind a little. To be how at, I think after the experience of a miscarriage–especially if it happens during your first pregnancy–the “innocence” of pregnancy is ruined. I’m a pretty high strung person even in the best of times, so I couldn’t relax at all given the circumstances. Maybe it was a self-fulfilling prophecy though. At 7 weeks, just as I started relaxing a bit and right before my first scan, I started bleeding again. It was very slight and brown at first, indicating old blood, so I kept hoping it was nothing. At first I could
    only see it when I wiped, but it kept getting worse and it took a day or two for it to sink in that it was over. This was truly the darkest period of my life. I was so depressed I barely ate or showered, let alone left the apartment. All I could do was cry. Cry because I might very well never have a child, cry because of the unfairness of it all, cry because I felt I had let my husband and our “team” down, cry because my body had failed me once again, cry because I felt so alone and no one seemed to get it, as attentive as my husband was trying to be. Not even my mother really understood. How could she? She’d never had a miscarriage before and her own mother had borne 8 healthy children. On my dad’s side, his only sister had 11 children. I come from a long line of extremely fertile African women but there I was at 26 in seemingly good health and had lost two back to back pregnancies. Even the word miscarriage carries with it connotations of failure. I had somehow missed the ability to carry my child successfully. The guilt and shame were awful, and the fear that a future pregnancy would also end in failure was at times crippling even. Here I am 9 months later and I’m still not over it. My doctor assured me only the second pregnancy can truly be called a miscarriage and that she was certain the next pregnancy will be fine, but who really knows? I’m still hit by self pity and longing whenever a friend announces a pregnancy. It’s really shitty, but I know I’ll never feel 100% better until I have my healthy baby in my arms. My husband and I decided to spend this year getting healthy and traveling before trying again next year but I’d be lying if I said a significant part of me didnt wish I wasn’t currently in a foreign country but rather at home in New Jersey with a baby in my arms. It’s tough and so so isolating. I wish more women spoke about this so we would all feel less alone and there would be less opportunity for these feelings of guilt and shame to haunt us. I applaud you for writing this heartfelt and beautiful post and I truly wish you and your significant other the best. I hope you get your happy ending very soon and I hug you from afar! One way or another, we WILL become mothers. Xo


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s