Tag Archives: babies

(RED)RUSH TO ZERO

(RED)RUSH TO ZERO

Photo by Elizabeth Atalay

1,000 babies are born every day with HIV.  By the year 2015 that number could come close to zero.  That is the goal of  (RED), and until June 10th you can take part in the (RED) RUSH TO ZERO campaign to help make that happen!  Check out the (RED) RUSH TO ZERO website to find out ten things you can do through June 10th to contribute. Two easy steps I am planning to take today to get started are to visit Starbucks  like I love to do, and check in on my foursquare account, which will then automatically donate a dollar to The Global Fund!  Then I am going do a little shopping on-line and pick a (RED) product to purchase, which will also donate to the (RED) RUSH TO ZERO campaign. Both actions are easy and fun for me to do, and it makes me feel good to know that the money I spend today on things I would buy anyway, will go towards such an important global cause.  If you need another good reason to take a look at how some of your favorite brands are getting involved, Father’s Day is coming up soon (I’m thinking the Dr. Dre headphones look pretty cool for dad)! 

 

 

You can track (RED) Money at work in Africa. To date, over $190 Million has been contributed to the Global Fund to fight HIV/AIDS (from (RED) partners and events). *100% goes to programs on the ground via the Global Fund-supported HIV/AIDS programs in 6 African countries: Ghana, Lesotho, Rwanda, South Africa, Swaziland, and Zambia. Over 14 Million people have been reached by programs (RED) supports.

Birth of a Mother at 45

Birth of a Mother at 45

What struck me most about turning 45, was that my mother at 45 years old gave birth to me.  I was only her second child, her first child, my brother, was born when she was 43.  That was in the 60′s when most women did not have babies that late in life, but she had been a career woman, and gotten her Ph.D. too, so was used to doing thing most women didn’t do.   She died from breast cancer when I was seven months pregnant with my own first child, and after becoming a mother myself, I had never needed her more.

The last words my mother spoke to me were “I will always hold your hand”. I held her tiny, cold, and puffy hand through that last night of her life in the hospital. In the morning I watched her chest rise and fall, as she slowly took her very last breath. I truly expected to feel her presence then, as she had promised, but felt nothing. I looked for her everywhere for weeks, for months, but she was gone. The stark finality of death confounded me.

When my first child was born three months later, I half expected to look into her eyes and see my mother’s soul. It was clear however, that my daughter was a unique individual from the very start. I had to come to terms with the fact that my longing was just a wishful notion. The magical thinking that follows death of a loved one.
I did find her,  eventually, but not where I would have expected. A year and a half later, on a wintery night, my baby woke me with her cries. With a fierce mothers need to warm and comfort her, I brought her into bed with us. I hushed her, and soothed her, and held her hand as we both finally drifted off to sleep. My epiphany came somewhere in that half sleep state. The hand that I was holding was suddenly so familiar, tiny, cold, and puffy in mine. I had held this hand before.
I was flooded with the exaltation of a reunion with a long lost love, wakened now by the realization that a baton had been passed. My mother was there, where she had been all along. That intense mother love, that profound need to soothe my baby’s cries,resonated within, and I found her deep inside me. I was the mother now. She had shown me the way. I understood that the incredible depth of what I felt for my daughter, was how my own mother had always felt for me, and she was there.

Honestly, for the first time I reflected on the gestation, birthing, nursing, and holding, all of the draining things mothers give to their new child with love. All that she gave of herself was what brought me here, to my own motherhood. Now, whenever the small hand of one of my own children slips into mine, I hear her words, “I will always hold your hand, ” and she is there with me.

 

 

This post was modified and reposted from “I Will Always Hold Your Hand” on www.amomknowsbest.com