I had promised myself for some time now to chronicle my pregnancy experience as a first-time mom so that my daughter can have it as a keepsake if she ever one day wants to know the story of her birth. I still plan to do so. But today, I want to share that miracle with the world. Of course I am neither the first nor last mother to so do. Countless stories are out there. So what is so different about mine?
Well, to be honest, apart from the way I felt holding my baby girl for the first time, which I think is a unique feeling for every mother, nothing I suppose.
Writing this is timely. Not because we recently celebrated International Women’s Day or because Mother’s Day is not so far away, but because of a crass conversation among a group of men I recently had the unavoidable misfortune of enduring. I was incensed, but I didn’t say anything because I sensed there would be no reasoning with them. From the way our eyes read each other’s, I could sense that the other women there felt anger too. In that moment we said a lot to each other by not saying anything at all.
