When I gave birth to my first daughter, I prided myself on my preparation. My husband and I visited the hospital months before my due date, took Childbirth classes, researched all our pain management options and developed a detailed birth plan that even included our wishes for daddy to cut the umbilical cord and instructions to not give our baby a pacifier. When the day arrived, we were warm, secure and surrounded by an incredible medical staff. My doula spoke words of encouragement and massaged my ankles, my husband held my hand. Monitors beeped into the night keeping pace with my daughter's heart rate. I knew I was cared for. I felt safe.
I would love to sit across from you this afternoon, to sip tea and to hear about the day you became a mama. Whether we first held our babies after childbirth or an adoption, we'd no doubt nod our heads and squeeze each other's hands, as we recognized a little of our own story in one another.
Mothers in the slums of Uganda, though? Well, they would have something all together different to share.