Nesting Instinct

I am counting the days till this baby arrives.  So, it seems, is everyone else.  I tend to run away from older ladies I know as they are like "You haven't had that baby yet!"  Am I pushing a buggy with a baby?  Then the answer is no.

A couple of weeks ago, our mum and baby group restarted, and a friend is doing these new baby care packs for Samara's Aid Appeal (you can find out more about it here).  And suddenly, I felt like nesting.  Not for myself really.  We've had a baby before.  We can run to Sainsbury's or Aldi and get more of what we need when this munchkin arrives.  A mama in Syria or Iraq cannot.

It got me thinking about nesting and praying for these mamas.

While I'm saying to my baby:

"Please come.
Please come.
Please come.
You have cooked long enough, and I'm feeling pretty miserable.
The hospital is ready and waiting."

There is a mother somewhere in Aleppo or Idlib or Homs or Mosul saying:

"Not today.
Not today.
Not today.
There are too many bombs and too much shooting today.
The hospital will be too full of injuries to deliver you today."

While I'm cooking and the smell of extra meals for the freezer wafts through my house, there is a woman in Aleppo who hasn't eaten in a few days.  Her older children must eat.

While I walk and cycle and swim and take yoga classes to prepare myself for birth, she must keep moving.  The walk from Greece to Germany takes 16 days without stopping, and she is due in a few weeks.

While I take all of my vitamins and medicines and drink the tea and take the herbs that will help this baby arrive safely, there is not much she can do.  The midwives and doctors all left when the hospital was bombed.  She prays that there is enough clean water in her makeshift "home" to get through labor.

While I pack and unpack and pack my hospital bag again, her bags, such as they are, stayed packed all the time.  She worries that the hole in the top of her tent is getting bigger and it looks like rain.
While I struggle to put my shoes on, she struggles to find a pair of shoes in the aid box that will fit her swollen feet.
While I tidy and wash and straighten the pillows on the sofa one more time, she wonders if she can keep a few blankets clean enough in the ever-present mud and dirt to wrap the baby in.
So today, I am nesting for her.  I am putting the cherished knitted things in a box for her because I can always make more.  I am folding the onesies and checking and re-checking to make sure it is all there because I can always get more.  She can't.

Get over your fear of Muslims hurting you and start thinking about the level of fear it must take to get in a boat at 9 months pregnant knowing you might not make it to the other side.
Don't just ask your government, beg them to do more.  Beg them to take more women, more children, more families.

Please consider donating to any of the wonderful charities that support women and children in these god-forsaken places.  The Red Cross, UNICEF, The UNHCR Crisis Appeal, The Women's Refugee Commission, Oxfam, Save the Children and the World Food Programme are some of the most able to get donations where they are needed most.


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