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 souvenir if she ever one day wants to know the story of her birth. I’m still planning to do that. But today, I want to share that miracle with the world. Of course, I am not the first or the last mother to do so. There are countless stories available. So what’s so different about me?
Well, to be honest, apart from the way I felt holding my little girl for the first time, which in my opinion is a unique feeling for every mum, I don’t know.
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 had the inevitable misfortune of suffering lately. I smelled it, but didn’t say anything because I sensed that there would be no reasoning with them. From the way our eyes read each other’s eyes, we can sense the other women there feeling anger too. In that moment we said a lot to each other by not saying anything at all.