As I read Kate’s story, I realize how much I didn’t know. This often happens when you learn someone’s story. It’s these details — preeclampsia, preemie, NICU, sepsis — that mark our differences, shake our knowns.

But beneath this layer is something equally powerful, the realization that although our experiences are different, our stories are really more the same than they are different. The harrowing self doubt, the difficulty to breastfeed, the not knowing, the not sleeping. The urge to protect our babies that begins to shade our views. These are things that draw us all together as mothers and can only be shared once we tell our stories, and once we listen to each other.

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