If you are like me, then you’ve been rooting for the love story of Remy Ma and Papoose for a long time. The culmination of that tale, a.k.a. “The Golden Child,” made her arrival on December 14th, a gift for the couple just a few days before Christmas.
Daddy Papoose gave fans and spectators the play-by-play on social media, with one Instagram post informing us Remy was a “fighter” because it was a “tough labor.” Reading that particular post sent chills down my spine. Being a mother and experiencing the unpredictability of childbirth, I went into prayer mode. I asked God to allow everything to be okay.
The next post that followed was the announcement that “It’s a girl!” The Golden Child had arrived safely. Remy and Papoose have been completely transparent about their struggle to bring a child in this world together since day one, and so came the news that Remy returned to the hospital for emergency surgery following childbirth complications. She was suffering from excessive bleeding and had to receive blood transfusions.
After what seemed like an eternity of waiting for news on Remy’s condition, she posted on an update. In an Instagram post, she thanked the hospital staff, reassured us that “The Golden Child” was perfectly healthy and that Papoose is on Cloud 9,999.
Whew! I’m doing my happy dance for Remy and praying that Black women in similar situations take their health as serious. We, too commonly, find ourselves in the position where we don’t have a supportive team in the delivery room or even throughout our maternal care journey.
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According to the Center for Disease Control and Prevention, as cited in a gripping report by the New York Times, blood pressure and cardiovascular disease are two of the leading causes of maternal death. We suffer from pre-eclampsia at a rate that has been growing since the ’90s. This could have gone so wrong.
I am lucky to be in the number of women who did not suffer any pregnancy complications or had to endure the stressful decision of having a C-section. However, I remember calling my doctor’s office when I had questions and never getting through. I remember being switched to a different doctor without being told of the change. I remember not being notified of my post-natal check-up appointment. I remember feeling like they stopped caring once I entered the “safe zone.”
Black women, we have to adopt a no-excuses approach to demanding how we are to be treated. We’re the ones forking over the co-pay and keeping these facilities in business, so how dare we be too embarrassed to ask the necessary questions and demand the best care. I wish Remy and Papoose all the luck, blessings, and good vibes as they continue on this journey.