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Day 93

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Shame

Ok so you’ll notice that I’m missing 5 days.  Well that’s about right.  I was having myself a nice little pity party about how stressful these last few weeks have been. How we always seem to be broke, how I do the same things day in and day out, I have a baby attached to me at all times, a 5 year old who is feeling left out and reverting back to being a misfit child, and lastly, which has been more notable the last two nights, my children WILL NOT SLEEP! 

So leave it to the BBC on NPR to give me a little perspective. 

Yesterday while driving home I heard a story about a pregnant woman in Pakistan who while walking (WALKING!) to a health care clinic, gave birth to her baby on the road.  She finally reached the clinic, and her baby girl, 5 days old now, according to the reporter, was clinging to life.  The mother said that the baby could not latch on and therefore could not eat and was starving to death.  The baby was limp and still and barely alive.  I could not contain my tears on my way home. Crying in empathy, crying because I (we) have SO much that we take for granted and what I have to complain about is not getting enough sleep or that my 5 year old will not eat his supper because he has the option of other, more desirable ‘goodies’ in our brand new cupboard in our brand new home on our acre parcel of land. Crying because I can not imagine no matter how hard I try, I can not imagine what it is like to not be able to feed my newborn baby and have her dying in my arms in front of my eyes and the only comfort I can give her is to gently fan her to keep the flies away from her face. I can not imagine.

So lastnight as I was getting more agitated by the second after 2.5 hours of trying to get my kicking, chubby, healthy daughter to sleep, the thought of this mother and little baby girl came into my mind and I felt shame. 

Yeah, we have problems, but everyone has problems.  I wish I could share my abundant milk supply with this anonymous mother in Pakistan who by now has most likely lost her precious baby girl whom she carried in her womb for 9 months.  I wish I could comfort her grieving soul and hold her baby girl to my bosom.  I wish I could do something. 
Yeah, I’ve got problems.  

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