Key Takeaways
- Pregnant women in sports journalism often hide their pregnancies due to fear of professional stigma.
- Racial disparities in maternal health mean Black mothers face higher risks of complications like preeclampsia.
- Medical bias can delay critical care, putting both mother and child in danger.
- Supportive environments—especially within women’s basketball—can counteract negative workplace narratives.
- Personal advocacy and strong social networks are vital for safe navigation of pregnancy and postpartum life.
A Confession on a Virtual Meeting
I caught myself on a Teams call, the corners of my mouth beginning to crack as I tried to keep a professional smile while my 6‑month‑old’s loud babble drifted from another room. A new coworker chimed in with a request for photos and videos from the story I was covering, and a quick mental tally of what I had actually documented during the Las Vegas Aces’ 2025 WNBA championship run flashed through my mind. I had been pregnant from the first game to the final, chronicling nearly every match, yet I felt uneasy about the quality and quantity of visual material I had captured.
Hidden Documentation Amid Pregnancy
As my belly grew, I started concealing my pregnancy in every photograph and video I posted, ashamed of what I perceived as “imperfect” evidence of my experience. The act felt like a betrayal of the pride I should have felt for chronicling a historic season, but the fear of judgment outweighed any desire to share. I recall ducking to the back of group photos at the Finals, watching my peers smile while I concealed a belly that was already unmistakable.
Fear of Professional Perception
The journalism world is relentlessly competitive, and I had spent years proving I belonged after joining my college paper in 2019. When my pregnancy complication emerged, my biggest anxiety shifted from the baby’s health to how colleagues would interpret my reduced availability. I worried that any sign of vulnerability would confirm doubts about my dedication, especially from those who had already hinted that motherhood might “ruin” a career. A casual comment from a peer—“You had so much potential”—felt like a dagger, reinforcing the notion that my professional future was on shaky ground.
Medical Crisis and Racial Disparities
Shortly after announcing my maternity leave, I was diagnosed with preeclampsia, a condition that disproportionately threatens Black women. The United States tops high‑income nations in maternal mortality, and Black mothers are three times more likely to die from pregnancy‑related causes, according to recent CDC data. Black women also experience a 60 % higher incidence of severe preeclampsia than white women, a statistic underscored by the tragic deaths of athletes such as Tori Bowie and the experiences of Serena Williams and Beyoncé. Despite being aware of these risks, I initially dismissed symptoms like swelling and high blood pressure as normal, only to have them ignored until a routine prenatal visit finally prompted a confirmatory test.
Navigating Medical Bias and Delayed Care
Even when my blood pressure spiked and protein appeared in my urine, hospital staff repeatedly dismissed my concerns, citing “discrepancies” or my age. An early‑warning doctor ordered an induction but did not wait for results before scheduling it, and the delivery facility later claimed it was “full,” forcing me to wait over twelve hours. It was only the relentless advocacy of my mother‑in‑law, my mother, and my aunt—who recognized the urgency of my swelling, headaches, and vision changes—that secured me a timely admission. This near‑miss highlighted how easily pregnancy complications can be minimized, especially for women who lack strong advocates.
Support Within Women’s Basketball
Amid the turmoil, the world of women’s basketball provided an unexpected sanctuary. Aces Coach Becky Hammon waited until I was six months pregnant to acknowledge my belly, then celebrated it with genuine excitement, even discussing baby names and sharing personal stories. The team’s medical staff routinely reminded me to sit, hydrate, and rest during demanding coverage assignments, and A’ja Wilson’s parents offered parenting guidance that proved invaluable. Covering the Aces’ championship run allowed me to sidestep the constant self‑scrutiny I felt elsewhere; each supportive interaction—whether a quiet cheer from a staffer or a supportive text from a fellow player—reinforced that my career could thrive alongside motherhood.
Balancing Motherhood and Career Triumphs
My son arrived the day before the Aces’ championship parade, freshly discharged from a medication regimen to prevent postpartum seizures. From a dark hospital room, I watched the parade livestream while cradling my newborn, spotting the glittering Las Vegas Strip through my window. Rather than feeling like I missed the celebration, I realized I had created a new kind of triumph—one measured in daily milestones with my baby. This month I began a national role that lets me amplify the stories of women across sports, and I plan to tell my son that his presence made me a better journalist.
Reflections and Call for Awareness
The sting of stigma toward pregnant working mothers is not unique to my experience; it echoes across industries and continents. Yet the compassion I received from the Aces organization and the broader women’s basketball community demonstrates the profound impact of supportive teammates and mentors. My story underscores the necessity of destigmatizing pregnancy in professional spaces, improving medical listening practices, and confronting racial inequities that endanger Black mothers. By sharing this journey, I hope to empower others to advocate for themselves, seek supportive networks, and insist that their professional value is not diminished by the beautiful, inevitable process of becoming a mother.