A week ago, on Tuesday 11th December 2012 at 1.58pm, we were blessed with a baby boy who passed away during the calm labour process. I say calm because, even after 41 weeks of a really good, normal pregnancy, I had gone into labour with the acceptance that I may not come out of it alive. My will was signed, letters to loved ones written, most of my debts cleared and those that were outstanding were written down, and instructions on how to look after Rosey were discussed.
So in my mind, the contractions were manageable, the panic on the faces of others were manageable and I calmly accepted the loss of my son even before the consultant had called it (when a mother tunes into her instincts it’s hard to be wrong)… I just needed confirmation from the consultant so that I could support The Hubby and remind him to praise God. And then against the wishes of all the medical people in that room, I delivered our baby son the way I wanted him to be delivered (naturally, peacefully, in a good warm setting, away from any medical intervention). We named him Muhammad. I held him in my arms watching him sleep and then waited for my own passing to God.
The latter part clearly didn’t happen.
I’m still here.
I’ve accepted it wasn’t my time.
One of the amazing reminders I received when we were at the hospital was from a Muslim doctor named Amal. Amal means implementation. She came in to witness there was no heart beat, looked at me with such love, recited the dua of gaining God’s Lutf (Gentleness) and left with a reassuring gaze that God was with The Hubby and I.
Her name carried on in the first phone call I had with a dear teacher of mine who called to say:
When we learn knowledge Allah trials us more so that we can actually implement that knowledge. And this is your trial which He wouldn’t burden you with if you didn’t know the knowledge to implement.
Another reassuring reminder I received was from a dear friend who reminded me my son had gone straight to Paradise and will ask for us to join him in Paradise when our time was up on this world. Our son had become our token to Paradise. What greater gift is there?
Furthermore, we were told Prophet Ibrahim (peace and blessings be upon him) looks after, plays and teaches the children who pass away in their infancy. This made me happy because as a mother I’m constantly thinking about how Rosey should pass her time in the best of ways. So knowing our son was spending it with Prophet Ibrahim (peace and blessings be upon him) just filled my heart with joy.
These were the reminders that have helped me to positively plough through each day. If I’ve cried then it’s mainly been out of feeling overwhelmed by Allah’s Love and Grace rather than being upset with His Decree. Our son is in a better place and I wouldn’t want it any other way. It’s going to be a difficult journey for The Hubby and I, especially when having to deal with people who don’t share the same mentality as us, however I’m sure with the faith we do have we can get through this together.
I hope, in writing the above, I have brought some comfort to mothers who have lost their baby during labour. Comfort that I hope will help them heal and accept their situation better. And verily in the remembrance of God do hearts finds rest.