Arizona women's basketball coach Adia Barnes, 44, is the second former WNBA player to coach a team into the Final Four of the women's NCAA tournament. It was also her alma mater's first trip to the title game, where the Wildcats lost to Stanford by one point. During halftime of the national championship, it was made known that Barnes spent the break pumping breast milk for her then 6-month-old daughter, Capri, whom she had given birth to when the season started. Along with her husband, Salvo Coppa, an assistant women's coach at Arizona, and her other colleagues and team -- Barnes pulled off the seemingly impossible: getting Arizona to the Final Four. And she did so with her newborn daughter and her 5-year-old son, Matteo, by her side.
In her own words, Barnes speaks candidly on what motherhood looks like for her, managing the demands of work and home life and learning to love on herself a bit more, especially after having a baby.
I'm trying to get more comfortable with saying, "This is my value, and this is what I deserve and I'm asking for it."
I'm not always good at that, and most women don't demand that. We're kind of like, "Oh, whatever is given, we have to accept it." We need to start understanding our value. Recently, I agreed to a 5-year contract extension [worth $5.85 million in base salary over five years] to continue as the head coach for the Arizona women's basketball team. It made me feel appreciated, it made me feel valued, it made me feel like Arizona was investing in me long term.
I also value my home life.
Balancing motherhood and coaching, I see it as more of a privilege versus a burden. When I played in the WNBA, I had a tremendous amount of hesitation about having children. I almost didn't have kids because of that. But after I left the league, I fell in love and got married -- and the rest is history. My husband [and assistant coach] and I had my now 5-year-old son Matteo when I was assistant coach at the University of Washington. My responsibilities grew when I went to Arizona as head coach in 2016. But I got to a point where I didn't want my job to dictate my family.
While at Arizona, my husband and I decided to try for another child. I got pregnant, and it resulted in miscarriage. I had just passed the first trimester, right before the miscarriage happened, and I thought, "Oh, I can tell everybody now, I'm three months now." I had just announced the pregnancy. And then I had the miscarriage right after, and I was so embarrassed. I was devastated. After the miscarriage, I was like, "I can't go through this again." It was too hard. After a miscarriage, you need some time for your soul to heal.
Then we got pregnant again. It was a miracle. It was a blessing. I was in my 40s, the odds of becoming pregnant without fertility treatment assistance weren't in my favor. I remember thinking, "Gosh, am I going to have a miscarriage again? Because this is what happened the last time." I was petrified the first six or seven months of pregnancy. I didn't tell anyone beyond my immediate circle that I was pregnant until I was at least seven months. The pandemic made it easier to not share the news. I could hide out at home. And I had preeclampsia when I was pregnant, which happens to a lot of African American and older women. Women don't talk about it. Preeclampsia [a pregnancy complication characterized by high blood pressure and signs of damage to another organ system, most often the liver and kidneys] isn't widely discussed.
I was sick most of my pregnancy with my daughter Capri, who is now 7 months old. My players didn't know that I was really sick for months. I didn't tell anybody. And what was I going to say? "Oh, I have high blood pressure, I can probably pass out." I wasn't going to say that to people.
The pandemic is probably one of the reasons why I carried the pregnancy to term. Because I was almost 44, there was only like a 30% chance the pregnancy would sustain. At my age the miscarriage rate is just higher. Due to the pandemic and stay-at-home orders, I was able to stay home for months and relax. Normally, I would have been traveling all over the country -- doing visits, recruiting. I don't know if I would have sustained that pregnancy otherwise. That's the silver lining of this time for me.
Having preeclampsia, and just high blood pressure in general, meant I had to take care of myself a bit more. I had to rest when my blood pressure got really high. I had to do that for months, up until like three months ago, post-pregnancy. So, during the start of the basketball season, I had to sit a little more. My team and colleagues probably thought I was resting a bit more because I had just had a baby, but it wasn't just the baby. And my players never knew.
I didn't always feel good after giving birth to Capri, I had no energy. I thought it would pass because I went through this before, I already had a baby. After Matteo, I thought it was all bull crap. I'm like, "I don't get depressed." Because with my first child, I thought, "Oh, I don't need to talk to a counselor, postpartum is nothing." I'll tell you now, it is real. I was kind of having a little bit of postpartum after the second baby. I was like, "I don't know why I'm crying." I didn't know how to change it.
But I had to relearn to take care of me. I had to learn to slow down, rest a bit more and get the right care. And I had to tell myself it's OK. And yes, those post-pregnancy hormonal shifts, those are real. After giving birth to Capri, I was bleeding for like 12 weeks as my body healed from the delivery. I basically wore a diaper every day, and women just don't talk about it. But it's real. And it's OK to ask for support from your village.
Motherhood has made me a better coach.
I'm outgoing, I'm an extrovert. My team is more analytical; they need to know why we are doing specific things -- and not just because Coach Barnes said so. Motherhood has given me that patience to figure that out. I'm more thoughtful. I'm never like, "Just do this drill." But rather I'll explain, "This drill correlates to our transition defense."
When I work to motivate my team, I ask them to be the best version of themselves. We're not comparing ourselves to Stanford; we are trying to be the best versions of ourselves every day. You don't let up until you do the best you can. I even say that to myself, and that's what's driving me now.
For example, I'm happy that we went to the Final Four. I'm not happy we lost [to Stanford] in April. I have a burning desire inside to not be a team that just went there once. And I don't know where that comes from. I don't want to be that team where everybody said, "Oh, Aari [McDonald]'s gone, Arizona can't go again." I am doing whatever I can, every single day, to ensure that we have a chance. It may take five years. It may take 10. We're going to go back there someday. I don't want anyone to be surprised that we are in the tournament.
But when you love something, you pursue it relentlessly. I'm trying to be a better coach. I'm trying to be a better mom. And sometimes in doing that, I neglect myself the most. And I'm still trying to figure that out. I was a pro athlete; I need to get back into shape. I didn't always like how I looked on the sidelines during the tournament, though I had recently had a baby. It's a challenge to find time to pour into myself. I know that I need to fill my tank and love on myself a little bit, too. I don't have that balance yet, but I'm working on it. I'm trying to find it.
I have my family, my colleagues, my team -- they are my village. They are my support system, without them none of this happens. I've asked a colleague to put breast milk in the fridge after I was pumping for Capri. It was warm, and they probably thought it was gross. But I needed that hand, that support. And I appreciated it.
I'm always working on my team, my family and me. And I'm not always happy with where I am. But I'm learning to forgive myself and to love on myself a bit more. I often tell myself, "It's OK." It's OK that things aren't always perfect; you're doing the best you can. I'm learning that shift in perspective, and I'll get there. I could be thinking, "Wow, I barely slept last night." But, instead I think, "I'm a 44-year-old with a new baby. I coach at my alma mater, at a job I love. How blessed am I?"