May and I weren’t thrilled with our hospital experience during Pooky’s birth. There were a number of things that didn’t go as planned, from the absence of our midwife and the constantly changing nurses to the bad lighting; during what I expected to be a powerful momentous and occasion, I spent a lot of time feeling annoyed. Then, every time I thought about how my annoyance was overshadowing the immensity of the moment, I would get even more annoyed. It was a vicious cycle. After Pooky popped out, though, none of that mattered much any more. My new family was healthy and happy, and that’s all I cared about.

Now, I realize that our situation could have been much worse. I understand that many of the things that I consider to be necessities would be considered luxuries in other parts of the world, and I try not to take it for granted. I heard something yesterday, though, that really brought this awareness home for me. Please listen to this story from NPR about an Iraqi father’s experience of the birth of his son. It’s one thing to have to provide your own painkillers and medicines, to have the power in the hospital shut off at night, and to have to bring your own clean water (and this is one of the good hospitals). It’s another to have to postpone your joy at the birth of your son because you’re too busy hiding from the militiamen that come through the hospital at night wanting to kidnap you. I hear things like this and the world just doesn’t make sense.