On Indigenous Motherhood: My journey becoming a mother to an Indigenous daughter
Written by Thryve guest contributor, Anna McKenzie
My daughter, June, in a moss bag next to the waters of her people in unceded Snuneymuxw territory.
I always knew I wanted to be a mother. As an Opaskwayak Cree and Scots Métis woman, I spent a lot of time in my twenties engaging with and reclaiming my identity.
I became fascinated with my kin and ancestor’s knowledge on pregnancy, birth, and motherhood. I quickly discovered that those that came before me held an immense amount of knowledge on bringing babies into the world.
This made me feel robbed in a sense that this knowledge wasn’t readily available to me, and that our ways of knowing have been so deeply impacted by colonization. As an Indigenous woman, I am aware that bringing life into the world is an act of resistance to years of assimilation and hardship towards Indigenous peoples on Turtle Island (now known as North America). This includes residential schools, days schools, the sixties scoop and the current child welfare system. Today, Indigenous children and youth are grossly over represented in the child welfare system, and many are calling this systemic crisis the new residential school.
Women in my family on my Dad’s side of the family.
The day I found out I was pregnant, I contacted my longtime friend Keisha. Hailing from the Katzie nation, Keisha is a midwifery student, doula, and co-founder of the ekw’í7tl doula collective. I immediately wanted to surround myself with the support I knew I needed to begin the journey and ceremony of being pregnant.
I suffered from relentless nausea in my first trimester, followed by migraines in my second trimester. I relied heavily on the care and support of my Mother, who is a first generation Canadian. Her parents arrived as immigrants from England. I have a close relationship with my Grandmother (‘Granny’), who I was eager to connect with throughout my pregnancy to draw from her own knowledge and experiences. My Granny is the mother of six children, fifteen grandchildren, and one great grandchild, and has quietly yet strongly been the backbone of my Mum’s side of the family. She was 29 when she had my mother, my mother was 29 when she had me, and I was 29 when I welcomed my own daughter in June of 2019.
My Granny and I at my baby shower on the traditional territories of the Blackfoot Confederacy (Siksika, Kainai, Piikani), the Tsuut’ina, and the Îyâxe Nakoda Nations, also known as Calgary.
My labour and June’s birth went relatively well. Keisha travelled to us on the day I went into labour (a week early). I identified my partner, who comes from the Snuneymuxw First Nation, my Mother, and Keisha as my birth team in a detailed birth plan. I also decided to birth in hospital under the care of a midwife team from Old City Midwives. It was incredibly important to me to have this team of both Indigenous and non-Indigenous kin to support me as I had fears delivering my baby in a hospital setting.
In British Columbia, and across Canada, Indigenous children are disproportionately apprehended due to birth alerts, which have only recently been abolished in BC.
Birth alerts are just as they sound. Babies are (horrifically) taken from their mothers and families quickly after they are delivered and placed in the care of the child welfare system. I also feared the pain of labour and not having access to pain relieving medication, which prompted me to decide to birth in hospital. It was a very difficult decision, but I believed in my own ability to advocate for myself and the strength of my birthing team in understanding my wishes.
My birth plan was very clear on my care, protocols and how I wanted my caregivers to support me. Having an Indigenous woman and healthcare professional in the room to me was deeply important, as was the presence of my own mother. We welcomed my daughter at 9:01 p.m on June 20, 2019. My partner caught her and placed her on my chest. The first face I saw was my Dad’s, who is Indigenous as well. Due to complications, she was taken away very quickly to the NICU. I was allowed to kiss her goodbye once she had stabilized, and my partner stayed with her and held her hand the whole time.
We stayed in hospital for four days in total, and there were many moments where I felt terrified. I didn’t want to be judged by any healthcare professional for not doing what I was supposed to do as a new Mum. I didn’t have the bandwidth to express my fear, and focused what little energy I had on learning how to nurse my daughter.
While we were in the hospital recovering, there were two high profile birth alerts issued and shared widely on social media. One in BC, and one in Manitoba. As I held my daughter for those first few days, I couldn’t imagine having her taken from me. Still, I hold her, and I never want to be apart.
On day four, we were given permission to leave the hospital. Arriving at our home was such an incredible experience. I slow danced with my daughter in the living room, and introduced her to her nursery. In the days leading up to her arrival, I poured my heart and spirit into carefully curating a space that would be ours. I smudged the space and surrounded it with art, books, and gifts from our family and friends.
My daughter and I in her nursery on the first day we arrived home.
I continue to reflect on the transformative experience of giving life. As I witness my daughter flip through her books in our room and watch her point to the pictures, I marvel at being able to sound out words in our ancestral language to her. I also marvel at the beauty of the intergenerational love that surrounds my daughter. My father's Mother, Mary, is around us now and I think about her often. Welcoming my daughter brought us all together. My partners mother is over almost every day providing us with care and support, which I am forever grateful for. June, my daughter, is all of us, and I am immensely proud to be raising a little one who embodies a world of knowledge and stories.
Thryve Guest Contributor, Anna McKenzie
Anna McKenzie is a member of the Opaskwayak Cree Nation and currently resides on the unceded territory of the Snuneymuxw First Nation. She is a proud mother, daughter, and granddaughter. Anna currently works as a child welfare reporter with IndigiNews.