My life begins with a flash of light. A flash of light that lasts for 14 hours straight. I feel like it’s never going to end, like this bright light is the only thing I’m ever going to see. There’s some great force pushing me towards what looks like the end of the light, but then, a gust of sharp, cold air hits me. And the rest is a blur.

 

               I wake up with a fright. I must’ve blacked out for a minute I think to myself. They say it’s common to faint after giving birth, but – a loud, deafening shriek echoes through the room and immediately interrupts my thoughts. I realize it’s my baby and my chest begins to tighten. “GIVE ME MY BABY!!” I yell so loudly I feel my bed shake, but that could also be my legs banging against the bed in frustration. My baby cries louder. Why is my baby crying!? I think to myself as my heart starts to race even more than before. It’s racing so fast I think I might barf.

 

               People are running back and forth passing me from person to person, I feel cold air hit me from every direction – left, right, up, and down. I have no idea what’s going on. All I know is that I am cold, tired, and hungry. I don’t want to be cold, tired, or hungry. So I try to get someone’s attention. I speak. I scream. And I yell. But nothing. Why can no one hear me? Or maybe they can hear me but they are choosing not to listen. I try to look up but all I see is a blurred image. I scream some more, but still – nothing.

 

               I’d never seen so many doctors move so quickly in my life. What are they doing to my baby!? It’s like my baby is the only watering hole in Africa and the doctors are the animals. They place my baby on the examination table, it turns out her temperature is a little bit low, they bring out a pink blanket.

 

               Ah finally some warmth, although I don’t exactly know what they’re placing on me. I feel all bundled up, but still, something isn’t right. I squirm to get out and try to get someone’s attention again, but no one responds. Why can’t they understand me!? All of a sudden something lifts me up and places me somewhere new.

 

              They’re finally bringing her to me. I start to cry. I can’t contain my excitement.

 

              And at once everything makes sense. I feel her, she feels soft. I smell her, it smells like home. I stop crying as I nuzzle closely into her chest. It’s my mom.

 

               I look down at her, and smile through my tears. This feels just right. The doctor asks me, “what are you going to name her?” I reply effortlessly, “Emma.” As her name slips from my lips, Emma snuggles herself closer into me as if she knows I said her name.

 

               It’s my mom.