I dedicate, to us.

I remember the day this photo was taken. I was away from work to receive possibly the best news of my life or the worst. My heart was in...


I remember the day this photo was taken. I was away from work to receive possibly the best news of my life or the worst. My heart was in my throat, almost literally. 

“You are both healthy. There are a few options but I suggest you try for a bit more.”

There we have it. There was nothing wrong with us. A little piece of me was relieved we’re both healthy but a bigger piece was despondent. At this point, I would rather have problems than an unexplained situation.

I was hopeless. 

We celebrated that day. For good health. While I teared a monsoon inside. I grieved for it wasn’t in my control. 

While it felt like I should never talk about this, a taboo topic that should never be spoken of, I don’t know how much longer I can shoulder this alone. I don’t know if I want to keep crying in the corner of my room, in the dark, all by myself. 

I would be lying if I tell you I am very happy for you (immediately) if you tell me of your little bundle of good news. I’d hide for a few days, waking up to swollen eyes and puffy cheeks. 

Why not me?

I would feel bad of course, but who can blame me? For twenty five months, I waited anxiously. 

For every late month, I would pray that the bloatedness that is my tummy, is a two liner. Three minutes of wait feels like a year. And then… one line. 

The trash holds my disappointment and the secret that I would keep from my husband.

My husband, may Allah always keep him from harm. May Allah always grant him patience cause I am not an easy person to be around sometimes. I know, for every negative test, there are two people who are affected. But I always made it my story. I sometimes forget that he is as ready as I am. That he wants that little packet as much as I do. 

Tomorrow, is mother’s day. Every day of it, the last two years has never been easy. I celebrated it still, alone. In my head. For the mother that I know I am. For the unconceived foetus that I know is my child. 

Mother’s day, is a day celebrated by mothers everywhere. Whose child is in their belly, whose child is in their hands. 

But tomorrow, I dedicate mother’s day to mothers who have their babies waiting in heaven. I dedicate mother’s day to all the mothers in heart, who is trying willingly and desperately to have a tiny little heartbeat in their tummy. 

I dedicate mother’s day, to me. 

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