Imagine... I have been given this opportunity to communicate with anyone who clicks onto my blog, anything I want to say concerning my passion for mothers, babies, families, pregnancy, birth, postpartum and breastfeeding, and the politics surrounding all of the above!

It's a huge responsibility and, honestly, I'm feeling a little intimidated. Where shall I begin? There is so much I wish to say to each of you about all of it.

Sitting here tonight, I feel your hearts and it occurs to me that there is no hurry to speak it all at once, for you will be kind and patient readers.

My favorite way to share what I know of these issues is by talking story: true stories of my life, and of the many lives which I have come to know and have become intimately involved in. So I'll start with some of my last 24 hours at the Bumi Sehat community health and childbirth clinic in Bali, Indonesia.

Last night began with a call for help!

I was feeling pretty good about horizontal and the prospect of catching up on some much needed rest. As I lay there, waiting to disappear into the black well of sleep, I was reviewing the day: Our weekly pediatric clinic, with doctors specializing in holistic solutions for children with special needs, had gone well. I made a mental note to find out how the two new patients, children from upcountry, who had no legs, were doing. Two mothers had had lovely births during the day, one a waterbirth. Both new babies were breastfeeding well when I left for my much-needed shower. Clinic Bumi Sehat was relatively quiet and peaceful, and with three skilled midwives on duty, I reassured myself that I would sleep through the night.

11:33 p.m., the phone rings. It's our young midwife Rena, "Ibu (mother) please, come quickly! Some tourists are here with their hurt baby. And they only speak English."

A note: I sleep in my clothes. A history of frequent emergency calls has taught me that the extra minute getting dressed is time I often cannot afford.

Peddling, like crazy, downhill, my trusty red bicycle gets me to the clinic in less than a minute. Wailing, in the arms of very worried parents, I find a distressed, but healthy, strapping toddler. "He fell... but it was just down one step. Is it really possible that it's serious?" probes the concerned British father.

Deal with the trauma first: I reach for the homeopathic Arnica and administer a dose to the not-so-little Oliver. Almost immediately, his wailing ebbs into deep sobs. Gently placing my hands on his right arm is all it takes and I know that we are looking at one, maybe two broken bones. Midwife Agung Mas hands me the Arnica ointment as we try to relieve some of the trauma topically. I used a large elastic bandage to stabilize the arm, strapping it securely to the child's body.

"Our ambulance can take you to a good hospital." I reassure the worried parents and carefully give them information about x-ray, insurance, language support, etc. We calm the parents and make sure they use the WC (toilet) before the 45-minute transport to the hospital. One of the midwives has already called Pagi, our ambulance driver, and he has the ambulance waiting. Midwife Rena, who has the best English skills, accompanies the family to the hospital.

I have been on shift for most of the last 24 hours, but, now that I'm here... I check on the postpartum moms and new babies, joke with our night crew of midwives and watchmen, and then peddle home at almost 2 a.m. The slight incline begins to feel mountainous now and I push my trusty red two-wheeler the last 20 meters home, manage a quick rinse and collapse into bed next to my insensate husband.