If I do not survive Covid

Please note the hopes we shaped before

The concerts, hikes and family feasts

Still on schedule, still in store.Read More »

By Maha Mahdavinia

It started almost from the moment my son was born, after I held that precious little breathing miracle of life in my arms and he stopped crying right away. I was filled with joy and love, as if beautiful, peaceful music was playing in my ears. I wanted to hold him all the time and never leave him. Then I remembered: My maternity leave was only six weeks. All of a sudden, the music stopped. It was replaced by a gnawing pain in my belly. Not from the unexpected ruptures of birth — I couldn’t care about those less at that moment. The pain came from guilt. In six weeks I would have to leave my baby every day, from very early in the morning until six or seven at night, when I came back from the hospital. I was a medical resident, and my work hours were long and uncompromising. As I sat in the recovery room of the maternity ward, my mind turned from awe and wonder to anguish and doubt. What was I thinking having a baby? I was so busy with work, and my job was very stressful. Surely I wouldn’t be a good mother.Read More »