After 8 months I venture back to Pakistan, because I really feel I am better now. I can face this place, provided I do not meet any doctor who wants to check me.
First night at my in laws where my sister in law is also present and it all came back. I will be honest, it didn’t come back with the same force, but it did manage to touch a chord.
My youngest neice, who happens to be almost five, and is rather petite for her age, was sleeping between me and her mom. She slept calmly till she turned towards me and in her sleep, mistook me for her mother. She moved towards me and cocooned her tiny frame inside my arms. Without me realizing, my body welcomed that tiny girl and one hand came over her back in a gesture of showing protection. She stayed like this till some time later, she turned towards her real mother again and her mother hugged her in her sleep.
I was not expecting this to happen, although it’s so likely to happen when you are living with children around. I missed my husband more and wanted to call him and tell him how much I missed having a family with him. I think with wonder about how Allah has programmed us to have a yearning for a family when you are settled with your spouse.
Sometimes I feel sad for us when I feel we couldn’t have that thing which comes so easily to almost everyone else. Then I realize, sad love stories are may be the most beautiful? Or when I count my lost babies and know for sure, Allah will not part me from them and I will meet them one day. Ahmad, Aisha, Fatima and one more we never began to even name. They are imaginary names, I don’t even know their gender obviously, but they were supposed to be innocent little ones, true to Allah, true to Muhammad (peace be upon him) and they were supposed to be brace and kind and momin.
Sad stories are the most beautiful. Unfinished, incomplete, broken… that is everything which dear to Allah.
I dwindle between thanking Allah for this loss and sometimes missing them. May be this is how it should be, and how it’s best for us.