The Second Time Around

I have been pregnant four times and this is my fifth. My first three pregnancies occured when I was in my early twenties. By the time I was pregnant with my fourth, my three children were already 4,6, 7 years old. I had just started homeschooling N who was 6 and H was supposed to start that year too. I didn't know how I was going to handle it, or whether I was going to be able to handle it, but Allah truly knows best. I probably wasn't ready to handle it all, so Allah relieved me of the burden.

My fourth pregnancy ended in a stillbirth in my 24th week. I had written about this extensively at the end of 2004, when I started blogging. The first time I wrote about it was when I composed an email to all my friends telling them about the end of my pregnancy. It was my first and only draft, written completely from the heart on the second day I knew that the baby inside me wasn't breathing anymore.

I had decided to bring all my kids to the ultrasound, since they were all excited about the baby. They were even arguing over who would get to sleep with the baby. In short, that pregnancy was a very much anticipated event. The kids watched my belly grow, and witnessed my never ending morning sickness. Unfortunately, they also witnessed the silent image of the their baby brother on the monitor during the second ultrasound.

When hubby and I broke down in tears, the kids remained seated in the seat and watched us. When we got back home, we explained to them what had happened, and in my grief I had forgotten to tell them that they baby was okay.

That was when they told a friend of ours whom I hadn't seen for a while that,

"The baby died."

Immediately I was summoned when I didn't actually want to talk to anyone. After that, I told the kids,

"If people ask you about the baby, just say the baby's okay, alhamdulillah. You won't be lying because the baby is okay. It'll go to Jannah, insyaallah."

At the time, S and N were attending summer school at the masjid and I remember not being able to keep my eyes open when I sent them to the masjid, due to crying the night before. The induction was schedule a week after the ultrasound. I didn't really want to meet anyone and talk about it. My mother had insisted that I get the baby out as soon as possible but I am really glad that I took a week to deliver J. It gave me time to absorb the concept of letting go of the baby. Alhamdulillah.

The demise was due what the doctor termed ' a fetal accident'. The cord was twisted as if someone had wrung a piece of cloth so tight that no oxygen could get through to the baby. She said, "I have only seen this twice in my 15 years of practice."

For quite a while after that, the kids talked about their little brother incessantly. H actually went to the cemetery with his father to put a stone as a marker. The girls and I didn't go as we abide by the 'women are not allowed to go to the cemetery' opinion. S understood what happened to her baby brother. However, N and H vacillate between comprehension and confusion. At times, H would say "When are we going to see J?"

I had told them that we would all meet in Jannah insyaallah. I think, only now do they understand what that meant. When we were talking about the earthquake in Pakistan, S piped up,

"The kids are all going to Jannah."

It was then that I realized the deeper wisdom behind our tragedy. It gave us an opportunity to feel death in close vicinity. Hubby had asked me to sew on J's name on his basketball jersey.

"So that we would always remember death," he said.

Today, after sending Jidda off at the airport, I told the kids,

"I'm going to be sick most of the time from now, so I really, really need your help, because you're all such responsible kids masyaallah."

I had told S and N that I was pregnant, but not H. As I told them, I looked attheir expression in the rearview mirror. In my mind, I was thinking, would I be inflicting more pain on them this time around, if I were to live through a replay?

This time around, I was scared to even be excited about the pregnancy. Never again will my perception of pregnancy be the same. Yet, there I was, telling the kids about it, and they didn't even question me as to 'will it happen again?" Am I the only one thinking about that? Or am I the only one thinking about it out loud?

N even said, "I want to name the baby Ruqayya!"

Hubby said "I want to look at the baby's face first."

And I'm saying to myself, "Will we even reach that stage?"

Whatever it is, Allah knows best, and whatever He gives us, we will accept Insyaallah. The tragedy has made me stronger in ways I never expected, and I feel that it was a much needed reminder and nudge for all of us in the family from Allah. I now have a surprise waiting for me on the Day of Resurrection insyaallah.

I wonder if the baby clothes we have hanging in the closet for over a year will be used after all. I wonder if my desire to breastfeed a baby will be fulfilled. I wonder if I will live through it all. I wonder. Nevertheless, this time around, everything is still in Allah's Hands. Subhanallah.

Maybe, this time around, my three living children will be big enough and maybe I will have grown stronger to be able to handle it all. Maybe. Truly, there is wisdom behind everything that happens. Allahu Akbar!