Comadres as Midwives
My abuelita taught me the life lessons of respect and dignity as we weeded the rose bushes in her garden. My mother, always told me she never got over the miracle of my birth. She had waited so long for a child, eleven years of marriage without the least glimmer of possibility, and then she had a child.
When I first held my tiny goddaughter in my arms, I said to myself, “I will never let anything happen to this child.”
I suspect every mother has this moment, when the miracle of birth becomes a reality of responsibility that changes them, moves them to defend the quality of life earned with the right of birth, given to them by their mothers. It moves mothers to join with others, learn of each other’s children’s lives.
