Tag: cross cultural marriage

What My Cross-cultural Marriage Taught Me About Christianity

by Rachel Espazien

This month I’m celebrating six years of marriage to my Haitian husband. When people ask me about cross-cultural marriage, they expect stories of language differences, cultural conflict, or family traditions. Of course those have been part of our story, but the main lesson that comes to mind as I contemplate how my cross-cultural marriage has changed me over the course of the past six years is something different. 

My husband didn’t introduce me to Haitian culture. I was already living in Haiti and learning the language before we got together. However, ask any cross-cultural couple, and they will tell you. The depth of your cultural immersion while living abroad, compared to doing life 24/7 with your foreign spouse, are two completely different experiences! 

Through our marriage, God showed me that much of what I considered “Christianity” was actually American culture.

Growing up in America, I never realized how difficult it can be to separate my faith from culture. The two were so intertwined that I genuinely thought they were the same thing. Certain ways of speaking, dressing, worshiping, doing ministry, raising children, being productive, giving, and even managing time felt not only normal but morally correct.

Then I married someone who loved Jesus as I did but approached many of those things differently. When these differences would arise, I instinctively viewed them through the lens of right and wrong.

“Why would he, as a Christian, do things that way?” “Why can’t he see that ‘this’ is the right way?” “Surely my approach is more biblical.” But over time, God began exposing the truth to me that many of the things I was defending were not biblical principles at all. They were cultural preferences.

I discovered that serving God can look different from person to person and culture to culture. This doesn’t mean that one is more right than the other. The more I learned about Haiti and the more I experienced life through my husband’s perspective, the more I realized that Christianity is far bigger than any one culture.

Jesus did not come to make Haitians into Americans. He did not come to make Americans into Haitians. He came to redeem people from every tribe, tongue, and nation.

Throughout church history, Christians have, at times, confused the gospel with culture. Beginning in the New Testament, Jewish believers sometimes struggled to understand that Gentiles did not need to become culturally Jewish in order to follow Christ. We see these same beliefs affecting cross-cultural work and marriages today. 

The gospel was not tied to a single culture then, and it is not tied to one now. That realization transformed not only my marriage but also my ministry.

Because of our work in Haiti, I regularly interact with people whose daily lives look very different from my own. Years ago, I unconsciously measured their practices against American standards. I assumed that what felt normal to me was somehow more godly.

Today, I try to ask a different question in my marriage. Instead of asking, “Why doesn’t he do things the way I do?” I ask, “Is this actually unbiblical, or is it simply different?” And “What would be the most loving thing? To adapt? Or to call him out on this?”

That question has saved me from many unnecessary judgments. It has also helped me appreciate the beauty of God’s global church. Around the world, believers worship differently, communicate differently, and live differently. Yet they serve the same Savior and are filled with the same Spirit.

My marriage has given me a front-row seat to that reality. Living with someone from another culture has forced me to examine assumptions I didn’t even know I had. It has challenged my pride, stretched my understanding, and reminded me that my culture is not the standard by which all others should be measured.

Most importantly, it has deepened my understanding of the kingdom of God. The kingdom is not American. The kingdom is not Haitian. The kingdom is God’s, and it is beautifully diverse.

One day believers from every nation will stand together before the throne of Christ. Our cultural differences will not disappear, but they will all find their proper place under the lordship of Jesus. Just as diversity makes our worship beautiful, diversity makes marriage beautiful too. 

In a small way, cross-cultural marriage offers a glimpse of that future reality. It is two people from different backgrounds learning to build unity without demanding uniformity. For that lesson, I am deeply grateful.

What began as marriage between an American woman and a Haitian man became one of God’s tools for teaching me a larger truth: Following Christ does not require making others look like me. It requires helping people look more like Him. 

Cross-cultural marriage is refining, it’s stretching, and it’s so, so beautiful. How blessed I am to be living this life between two cultures and raising a daughter who is the best of both of our cultures. I wouldn’t have it any other way. 

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Rachel Espazien is a missionary, blogger, and the founder of Espwa Demen Mission. Married to her Haitian husband, she writes from firsthand experience about the joys and challenges of intercultural marriage, cross-cultural ministry, and everyday life. Rachel is passionate about encouraging missionaries to learn their target language, embrace cultural differences with grace, and faithfully follow Christ wherever He leads. When she is not serving in Haiti, you will find her at home in Missouri raising her two-year-old daughter, selling at her antique booth, and language tutoring. She enjoys coffee, cooking, and fitness. You can follow her blog at espwademen.com/blog.

The Great Unknown: The Risks and Joys of Cross-cultural Marriage

by Hannah Blankenship Herrera

I remember singing the lyrics to Hillsong United’s “Oceans” in my middle school chapel, begging the Lord to “lead me where my trust is without borders” and “take me deeper than my feet could ever wander.”

“You call me out upon the waters / The great unknown where feet may fail / And there I find You in the mystery / In oceans deep my faith will stand,” I sang, probably acutely aware of the pleated uniform skirt hugging my waist in an unflattering manner.

I imagined this “great unknown” to mean some exotic mission field, perhaps an unreached people group on a desert island, where He would call me and I would bravely go.

There has since been controversy over Hillsong’s theology, and I’m in a faith tradition that doesn’t use that song for corporate worship. But young me meant those words with all her heart.

In college, deeply burdened by the stark racial divides in my American Deep South upbringing and university life, I prayed earnestly to “be a part of unity in diversity in the church.” I meant those words too, and years later, God answered me—in a far more literal way than I ever could have imagined.

In August of 2025, I married my husband David, an Afro-Latino Colombian I met on a mission trip in high school. We had no idea the Lord would weave our cross-cultural friendship into something more, but it’s been the adventure of a lifetime.

Our wedding was a transcendent celebration — guests of all colors and ethnicities praising, dancing, and singing side by side. Raindrops mixed with flower petals as we walked back down the aisle, and a breathtaking double rainbow graced our exit. It felt like a taste of heaven.

Before getting married, we carefully weighed the costs. We knew we would face challenges other couples wouldn’t. There is so much unknown in any relationship, but especially a cross-cultural relationship. There are millions of experiences that shaped his childhood that I will never understand. He grew up taking a cart to a water hole in the mornings, and I grew up in the suburbs.

There are values and understood norms that we stumble upon and learn only by crossing. Even though we speak each other’s languages, there are still references, jokes, and nuances that are hard to grasp. I’ve had people tell me they don’t think they could be in a cross-cultural relationship for all those reasons.

Visiting my husband’s rural coastal hometown is a perfect visual of these differences. The simple task of arrival is no simple task for me. On one recent occasion, I threw up three times in his backpack on a ten-hour overnight bus ride. Then, to get back, we had to cross the river in a handmade wooden boat that carries vehicles and people across through a pulley system. (Quite literally I was out upon the waters, praying the barge wouldn’t fail with a massive van, motorcycle, and us on it.)

But once we are there, it’s always worth it. His church friends have embraced me as their own. His mom delights in serving us the most wonderful home-cooked Caribbean food. We walk fifteen minutes from his house in our chanclas to the coast, and we are often greeted with the most stunning, fuchsia-infused sunsets spread across the entire horizon, throwing vivid oranges and pinks onto the waters below.

Normally, the vastness of the ocean and the mystery of its depths feel frightening to me. But on one of these occasions, as we stood hand-in-hand gazing at the sky, I was struck with a thought: the unknown can be beautiful. The vast mystery ahead of me was breathtaking, stunning in its splendor.

I realized that was my life, our marriage. God had called me into a great unknown where my feet could easily fail, but in His mercy, it was far more beautiful than I ever could have imagined. And as the song says, His grace abounds in deepest waters, and His sovereign hand will be my guide — every step of the way.

David and I have our differences. There are things we work through that other couples don’t. Sometimes it’s frustrating. Sometimes there are tears. Overabundant communication is a must. We’ve already faced challenges, and I’m sure there will be many more.

But his infectious exuberance, his perceptive wisdom, his unwavering support of my dreams, the energetic dancing he sweeps me up in, his huge smile, his kind eyes, his soft heart, make it all so very worth it. Despite our drastic disparities in upbringing, ethnicity, and culture, I have always felt known, seen, and safe with him. In fact, I feel that our similarities far outweigh our differences. Because above all, our primary culture is one we do indeed share — our faith.

I work in university ministry in Colombia, and when students find out I’m a gringa married to a costeño, their curiosity has no bounds, paving a path for me to share about the covenantal love of Christ towards His church. Hearts open to me in ways they never would have if I weren’t married to someone from their culture. And if or when we do move to my hometown, I pray our relationship will be a quiet statement of hope for racial unity amidst so much division.

My message is this: The unknown can be scary, and you do need to carefully consider the risks of walking out upon the waters. But don’t let that prevent you from seeing how breathtakingly beautiful it is.

His sovereign hand will be your guide.

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Hannah Blankenship Herrera is a university ministry worker and freelance journalist living in Medellín, Colombia with her husband, David. She is a regular contributor to Christianity Today where she covers immigration and Latin America. Her most recent article for The Dispatch focused on cross-cultural couples separated by the U.S. travel ban. For more of her writing, follow her on Instagram @hannahherrera or X @HannahReneeB.

 

Crossing Cultures for Love

by Ruth Potinu

“Where you go I will go,” our pastor read on our wedding day. “Where you stay, I will stay. Your people will be my people, and your God my God.”

I hadn’t yet been to my husband’s homeland. We’d met while both doing cross-cultural work outside of our passport countries. I was excited to meet his family and start the work that we felt God calling us to. Once my visa came through, two months after our wedding, we left for a two-year commitment that has since turned into living in my husband’s home country for the last eleven years.

The honeymoon stage got me through language learning, adjusting to cultural differences, and being the only expat living in his village. It can be isolating at times, and yet I am so grateful for my husband’s family who are now my family. The gift of being accepted and protected through marriage is something I don’t take for granted, especially in a country that is not my own. We ended up settling in the capital city, and my husband’s church accepted and welcomed me there as well, becoming family away from family.

As an MK who never knows how to answer the question, “Where are you from?” I love that my kids can say that they are from the country where we serve. They have cousins and a grandmother here. I love that my husband’s village has now become my village, and while that can come with its own pressures and expectations at times, it also comes with so much support and a safety net that allows me to live in this beautiful, but often complicated country.

But while cross-cultural marriage comes with so many blessings, it can also hold heaviness. There was a moment when covid-19 was ravishing the globe that travel restrictions became so intense that I wondered if we would ever be able to travel again, as a family, to my home country.

I watched many cross-cultural workers boarding planes arranged by the US government to get them out of a country known for a having a weak medical infrastructure. For me, getting on one of those planes wasn’t really an option as it would mean leaving my husband behind. In fact, even our scheduled furlough didn’t happen that year when the airline contacted us to say the flight we had already booked would now not be happening.

I cried ugly tears one day as restriction after restriction made it harder and harder for non-citizens to enter the US. Would normal travel ever open up again? Was I really ready to give up the opportunity to see my biological family? That felt like too big of an ask.

I love the work that we are able to be a part of. I love my family in country, but I also love my family who live oceans away. Jesus words in Luke 14:26 suddenly held so much more weight: “If anyone comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters—yes, even their own life—such a person cannot by my disciple.”

It’s easy to say you’re willing to give up your family in theory, but a much different feeling to actually come to a place when you might actually have to live that out. “Help, me. I don’t think I am strong enough” was and often is my silent prayer.

Eventually doors for normal travel did open again. Relief comes, and you savor every minute that you can with those who live far way. There is sacrifice as grandparents on one side of the planet get to spend quality time in person with their grandchildren while those on a different side of the globe do not get that as often. Missed milestones like baptisms, school programs, and birthdays hold such a mix of joy and hard. I’m thankful for technology, but only so much can be experienced through a screen.

Covid is in the rearview mirror now, but just last month our host country was added to a list requiring high bond fees for non-citizens to travel to the US on a visitor visa. I already heard of one friend in a cross-cultural marriage whose visa application was denied after this new requirement, and their planned furlough is now in jeopardy. Constantly changing visa rules and restrictions have a way of adding stress to so many cross-cultural marriages.

And yet, here we are thankful for the love we have that reached across borders. I am thankful for a love that gives our children identity in some areas even though it can give confusion in other areas. We have a love that comes from opposites attracting, and now we must daily figure out how to live a life together. I’m thankful, and it tests me. I’m grateful, and it’s hard. I love getting to live such a culturally rich life, and I pray often for God to give me the strength to live it well in spite of the heaviness that it can hold.

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Ruth Potinu works alongside her husband in his homeland of Papua New Guinea. There they seek to minister to the vulnerable, especially widows and their children. She is the author of Permission to Mourn: Engaging with Culture, Story and Scripture in a Quest for Healing with Hope. Ruth loves watching her four kids grow up, connecting with friends (preferably over a good cup of chai), and writing whenever she can carve out the time.

 

Navigating Cross-cultural Marriage

by Shiyani Refuge

When my husband Ben and I got married in 2009, we thought we had a pretty good understanding of each other. We had met in Sri Lanka, attended the same church, shared similar values, and deeply loved God. What we didn’t fully realise at the time was that we were also bringing two very different cultural worlds into our marriage.

I was born and raised in Sri Lanka. Ben, though originally from the UK, grew up in India as a third culture kid. Between us, we carried layers of cultural influence—ways of communicating, expectations about family, unspoken assumptions about gender roles, conflict, time, and even what it meant to express affection.

For the first year of our marriage, we moved to the Middle East, and shortly after, we settled in the UK, where we have spent most of our married life and had our two children. Recently, we made another big transition—moving back to Sri Lanka as a family. Each of these moves brought new cultural adjustments, not just externally, but within our marriage.

And if we’re honest, some of our biggest challenges weren’t about where we lived geographically but about how well we understood each other.

Every marriage has differences. But in a cross-cultural marriage, those differences can be starker because they are buried under layers of deep-rooted cultural values that shape how we think, how we feel, and how we respond.

For example, early in our marriage, Ben felt hurt when I addressed issues about him extremely directly! To me, this was normal—honest, concise communication which, within a typical Sri Lankan family context, is very common. To Ben, it felt abrupt and insensitive.

On the other hand, Ben’s tendency to avoid confrontation (beating around the bush in a typical British kind of way!) left me feeling like he wasn’t making an effort, and I felt disconnected. That’s one of the first lessons we’ve learned: many conflicts in cross-cultural marriages are not about being right or wrong—but about needing a deeper understanding of each other.

Going Back to the Origin

One of the most grounding truths we’ve learnt to hold onto is this: Marriage is God’s idea.

Before we try to fix or correct the “differences” in each other, we have to understand the original purpose of marriage itself. It’s not just about compatibility or happiness—it’s a covenant where two become one. Not by erasing differences, but by learning to honour and love each other through them. In cross-cultural marriages, this becomes even more important as we are constantly navigating differences—not just internally, but often externally through extended family, community expectations, and social norms.

Having a shared foundation of God’s view of marriage gives us both something steady to return to when everything else feels uncertain or chaotic.

A turning point in our marriage came when we learned the value of vulnerability within our marriage — not just emotionally, but culturally. Instead of assuming, we started asking questions when differences in perspectives came to the surface. Simple questions like “Why is this important to you?” or “What feels uncomfortable about this for you?”

These conversations weren’t always easy, but it is amazing how taking the time to ask and listen to simple questions can reveal hidden layers of misalignment in each of us and instead of these becoming points of conflict, they are transformed into closer connection. Vulnerability creates safety. And safety allows both partners to bring their full identity into the marriage—culture included.

No Culture is Perfect

Here’s something else we have discovered together in our cross-cultural marriage.  Not everything we inherited from our cultures was healthy for us! Some of our reactions were shaped by past experiences, family dynamics, or cultural norms, and to be honest, until these caused an issue for us or for a person we love, we wouldn’t bother addressing them.

But we both have seen how our own cultural baggage can harm our relationship. There were (and still are) moments when small issues can trigger bigger emotional responses. The habit we have both had to be intentional about when these occur is to pause and ask, “where is this really coming from?”, because cross-cultural marriage has a way of exposing these hidden layers. Instead of ignoring them, we must take ownership. That means acknowledging wounds, unlearning certain patterns, and choosing a better way forward—together. None of us need to stay a victim of our past experiences or negative aspects of our own cultures.

If there’s one skill that has been a helpful tool for our marriage, it’s learning to communicate our needs clearly—and kindly.

In some cultures, needs are expressed openly. In others, they are implied or expected to be understood without words. When those two styles collide, it can lead to disappointment, resentment and disconnection. It sounds simple, but clear (and kind) communication of our needs takes practice—especially when it feels unnatural, but the result is a strengthened bond between us.

Like all other couples, there have been seasons in our marriage where we felt like we were just getting through—navigating differences, adjusting to new environments, managing family life. But coming back to that original purpose of marriage, it was never meant to just be “endured”, it is meant for enjoyment and to thrive.

When we hit these dry spots in our marriage, we remind ourselves to laugh at our cultural misunderstandings instead of fight about them. We intentionally create new traditions that reflect both our backgrounds rather than only choosing one cultural perspective over another, and we choose connection even when it requires extra effort. Joy in marriage doesn’t happen by accident; it’s something we must intentionally build into our relationships.

Even now, after seventeen years of marriage, new situations reveal new differences. Moving back to Sri Lanka has been a fresh experience of navigating identity—as individuals, as a couple, and as a family. But we now view our cross-cultural marriage as a gift instead of a disadvantage. Yes, it requires more intentionality. Yes, it can be challenging. But it also offers a richness, depth, and perspective that can shape a marriage in beautiful ways.

We recently launched our Cross-Cultural marriage course, Two Cultures One Heart, which aims to strengthen marriages and aim for joy. You can find out more information at www.fieldpartner.org and use the voucher code LIFEOVERSEAS to get 25% off the course fee!

Anyone signed up to the course is also welcome to join our online group cohort where you will have a chance to meet other cross-cultural couples as we go through the course together, running weekly with Shiyani and me from 15th May for 5 weeks. Contact us at ask@fieldpartner.org for more details.

Because two cultures don’t have to compete in a marriage. They can come together to create something entirely unique and beautiful.

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Shiyani Refuge is from Sri Lanka, where her family has a long ministry history. Her husband, Ben Gilbert, grew up as a missionary kid in India and later moved to Sri Lanka, where he met Shiyani. They have been married for seventeen years and have two young children. Ben is currently the Head of Training for FieldPartner International, with Shiyani heading up the marketing department. They are passionate about helping cross-cultural marriages to thrive.

Marrying Across Cultures

by Hannah Edington

Marriage of any type comes with difficulties, but intercultural marriage has its own set of unexpected challenges. For single missionaries serving abroad, the possibility of marrying from within their host culture should involve deep considerations.

Like Moses and Zipporah coming face to face with his family’s racism, to my experiences with my husband refusing to translate the threats made against my body by men on the street, these unique marriages should not come without considering the cost. And while the external threats are extremely difficult, most of the challenges come from within the multicultural couple’s own varying cultural perspectives.

Here are four ideas to consider as you enter into a romantic relationship within your host culture.

 

1. Arguments
Before entering into a relationship (or marriage) within the culture you serve, be aware that your arguments are likely to be a little extra heated. Even if one of you is fluent in the other’s language, emotions impact how we use our words. And when arguments arise, explaining the depths of what you are thinking and feeling can cause further complications. Having said that, don’t ever marry someone, especially someone from another culture, without having experienced a fair share of heated arguments. Cultures argue differently, as do genders, and knowing how your spouse argues is crucial preparation for marriage.

 

2. Conflicting Values and Preferences
It is also important to be aware that you will likely have vastly different perspectives on money and finances, an issue which is cited for the majority of divorces in western society. Even if you are in a country with a high economic status, you may have quite different ideas on how money should be spent. Marrying within a culture that is considered ‘developing’ means you will absolutely, no doubt, have different views on where each penny should go.

These are only two examples. Parenting, clothing, how time is spent, what should be eaten, gender roles, sitting through conversations with their friends without understanding a word, and in-laws are all other things that will absolutely come into play.

 

3. Openness and Learning
Never cease to try and get to know this person before committing to them for life and never cease to try and get to know their culture.  In marrying them, you are marrying their culture. And culture comes out significantly more after the wedding than it seemed to exist before.  This means that you need to continue to be open. You are marrying their culture, but they are also marrying yours. Don’t hide the parts of you that you don’t want them to see because they will eventually come out. Some of those things may be cultural, but they might also just be a part of you. Never assume that they will learn to handle it without first being open.

 

4. Importance of Christ in us
Remember that as Christians, we have something pretty huge going for us. I was drawn to my husband because of his Christ-like character and integrity. If you can find a man or woman within the culture you serve who displays this type of behavior, that’s a good start. But don’t just see them alone, see him or her among friends. See him or her in the church.

Once you are certain that this person has the qualities of Christ-likeness that extend beyond international barriers, or that his/her view of Christ is not impacted by potentially massive theological differences that have spread throughout regions of the globe, your marriage can be God-honoring. Once you are certain that their attraction to you is based on your own representation of Christ and not the country from which your passport was issued, your marriage can be life-giving. Once you are certain that you can marry this person, and this culture, your marriage can be one of grace and truth.

Christian couples have the advantage of this grace and truth. We have the advantage of ending our arguments with lots of prayer and, I recommend, a study on Song of Solomon with some practical application that speaks to all cultures. Outside of Christ, there are no such advantages.

There are enormous considerations before entering into a marriage within the culture you serve, but entrusting it fully to Christ is the first step. Beyond that, prepare yourself. Do your part and allow God to do His. His will be significantly greater.

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Hannah Edington is a writer and entrepreneur living in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. Her long-term goals include writing about life in developing nations, working with widows and single moms to start businesses, and starting a family with her husband.

When You Find Love in Your Host Culture

by Nikole Opiyo

It only took a week to realize that I was going to marry my husband. We had had feelings for each other, but realizing that I was a short-term missionary and he was a local, we buckled down and had a deep talk about the reality of the situation. That talk ended in us deciding to get married. In one night all these pieces in my life fell into a place I never thought they would. I remember looking at him the next day and saying to myself, “I found the ONE” and that ‘peace that passes all understanding’ fell upon me like I had never experienced before.

It felt like a dream. A most wonderful dream. The next two years of dating were filled with all the wildness and whimsy that any dating relationship is filled with. Lots of dates and laughter and getting to know each other. Dreaming of the future and wondering what God has in store for us.

As Christians, we sought God like never before. We met with other cross-cultural couples and asked all the hard questions. We talked about culture and gender roles and family and finances. We fought. We frolicked in the beach. We served together in various ministries. I learned how to cook his traditional food and he took a liking to cheese pizza. We stayed on our knees, praying, until the day we walked down the aisle and made a beautiful commitment to belong to each other forever.

However, there is something funny that happens when a missionary girl decides she wants to be in a relationship with a local boy. Everyone seems to put on their skepticism glasses and watch from afar. I hate to admit it, but from my experience, missions agencies and other missionaries are the worst at this. Most agencies I have encountered have rules and guidelines that forbid entering into a relationship with a local. Some don’t allow any serious dating relationships at all — although I am sure they would have been a little more flexible had I found another missionary boy I wanted to marry.

I have talked to other mixed couples who, like us, found each other on the mission field. They have told me stories of how they were hastily separated (sometimes even moved to different countries or returned home), or the mission flew their relatives in to try to bring them home and discourage the relationship. Many of these couples felt like they had to hide. Others did tell their agency, but their bosses started to look down on them.

For my husband and myself, we were ignored. My husband was ‘released’ from the mission a few weeks before I came back to serve with them for a one-year term. The week I left to go home after my term was up, my husband was conveniently re-hired. No one acknowledged our relationship. No one asked how we were doing. No one was accountable to us. Some of them didn’t even show up to our wedding. Through all the wild and whimsical, there was also the lonely and disapproving.

I have asked some agencies why they have these rules, and I understand where they come from. They are worried about being taken advantage of, losing focus of the mission, and being vulnerable through emotional times. Understandable. But here is my suggestion: instead of putting on the glasses of skepticism and backing off, why not draw nearer and look closely?

You know what I really needed? Someone to walk through the journey with me. Because apart from us being in different cultures, I was still a girl who fell in a love with a boy and needed all the support I could get as I waded through this new territory. I needed someone to keep encouraging me in my relationship with Christ knowing that He would give me the ultimate wisdom I needed in deciding who to spend the rest of my life with.

I am so thankful for those who chose to draw near and listen, most of them being our local friends. They asked the hard questions, kept us accountable, and pointed us towards Jesus. Now, six years later, they are still our greatest confidants.

I know we can do better at this, especially as it’s becoming more and more common for short-termers to engage in romantic relationships with people their host communities. Let’s draw nearer, look closer, and point each other to Jesus.

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Nikole Opiyo is a small-town Canadian girl who married a Kenyan boy from the ghetto and now they serve in Mombasa, Kenya with The Rehma Project. They have two precious little girls, Mercy and Amina. As a Childbirth Educator and Doula, she is always looking for ways to equip, educate and support pregnant women in her community. She blogs at www.movingwithcompassion.com. You can also follow her on Instagram: nikoleopiyo.