We are hard-wired to protect and love this baby we made. It's our job. My husband explained how protective he feels when the baby falls asleep in his arms. I explained things a little differently. I feel protective in a more violent way. A more animalistic way. A more primal way.
Three years ago this month, in a humble enclave of mud-and-wattle huts by the side of a dusty African road, I met, by accident (if you believe in such things) the sick little boy who would become my son.