
Chapter 6: Breaking The Walls
Chapter 6: Breaking the Walls

The sun was higher now, and the café buzzed with a quiet tension that Eva could feel before she even stepped out from behind the counter.
The seats were filling fast. The regulars — doulas, midwives, a few returning mothers — had staked their usual spots. But today, new faces dotted the circle. Among them: Dr. Lauren Mwenda, an obstetrician from the nearby hospital.
She was sharp. Well-dressed. Eyes like searchlights.
And she was skeptical.
Eva clocked it immediately — the arms crossed over her clipboard, the slight arch in her brow when she heard the word “energy” instead of “evidence.”
Ama noticed too, but said nothing.

The circle began. Stories flowed. A mother shared her breech birth story — not the textbook version, but how she felt held, seen, safe. A midwife spoke about trusting instincts. A doula offered up her usual analogies with sugar cubes and spoons.
Then Dr. Mwenda raised her hand.
“I just want to ask,” she said carefully, “where do you draw the line between trust and risk? Because outcomes matter. And instinct doesn’t show up on a fetal monitor.”
The circle held its breath.
For a moment, it seemed like the invisible wall had returned — clinical on one side, intuitive on the other.

But Ama simply leaned forward.
“You’re right,” she said, voice low and strong. “Outcomes matter. And so do experiences. The question isn’t which one we center. It’s how we hold both, together.”
There was a pause. And then — surprisingly — Dr. Mwenda nodded.
“I’d like to come again,” she said. “Maybe... just to listen next time.”
The wall didn’t shatter. But it shifted.

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Later that night, Eva and Ama sat on the café steps, mango smoothies in hand.
“That,” Eva said, clinking her glass to Ama’s, “was the work.”
“That,” Ama replied, “was only the beginning.”

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