We sat across from each other on a floral print couch in a little waiting room.
I clasped papers in my hands. Papers with information and suggestions and the offer of help. Flimsy papers that couldn't even come near addressing the enormity of my fear and fatigue.
And then she paused, in between telling me about the point system and earning baby items, and she asked to pray with me.
She took my helpless white hands in her warm brown ones, and she prayed for my unborn baby and the unknown future and the strength to bear both.
Ever since, I think I've carried that prayer with me as if it were a token of generosity and thoughtfulness. It gave me courage and continually reminds me that life is about love and compassion and passing on a helping hand.
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