The Bahati Foundation was not born out of a strategic board meeting or corporate planning. It was born out of great struggle, late hospital nights, and lived survival within the walls of a hospital high-risk ward and the NICU.

At twenty-six weeks, something about my pregnancy did not feel right. My OBGYN confirmed the imminency of preterm birth. What followed was many long nights in the NICU, filled with blinking monitors and flashing lights. When pregnant a second time, my husband waited by my bedside, surrounded by monitors and lights; I had had a massive hemorrhagic stroke. I was in a coma.

I pulled through. I survived. And so did my children. But we are not the only ones. Roughly 10% of all pregnancies find their way to the NICU, High-Risk Ward, or both. The isolation of those hours is difficult to put into words. It feels as if the entire world is moving forward outside the hospital window, while your life is frozen in the balance.

“Bahati means blessing, destiny, and fortune in Swahili. In the English language, no one word encompasses this meaning. Bahati does.”

During my recovery, I made a solemn promise: no family should walk down those sterile hospital corridors alone. They should have practical care—like simple gas cards, meal vouchers, and warm care packages. They should have consistent human presence—trained peers who listen without clinical judgment.

That is our mission. We show up—before, during, and after the hardest moments. Thank you for walking this road with us.