1. I wasn’t sure how to begin #myfacesofpostpartum project. But after meeting with 53 women last year for @facesofpostpartum, I realized that their postpartum stories all started the same way: at the beginning of life itself. Birth. So here I am, at dawn on October 16, hoping to push my stubborn daughter into the tub. A tub that helped me relax too well, as my contractions would always stop when I’d slipped into the warm water. But here I am, nevertheless, laboring in my home office, surrounded by the few chosen books of poetry, philosophy and fiction I took with me when I immigrated three years ago. Here I am, supported by my exhausted husband, who removed the hair of my flushed face so I could lean over his, who cried with me when I crushed his hands while I pushed, who held my body when I felt I couldn’t do it anymore. Here I am, about to become a mother again.