Buddhist Catholic Contemplative Evangelical General Christian Hindu Jewish Latter-day Saint Muslim New Visions Progressive Christian

Beliefs

Topics

Columnists

Resource Library

Research Tools

Video

Podcasts

Thought Readers

Faith In Media Tracker

Newsletters

Ad-Free & Subscriber Log-In Subscription Support

Follow Patheos

Muslimah Next Door

Home
Muslim
Ten

Ten

Last updated on: October 11, 2017 at 1:26 pm by Dilshad Ali

Ten 2017-10-11T13:26:04-04:00 Dilshad Ali

LOGO Patheos Explore the world's faith through different perspectives on religion and spirituality! Patheos has the views of the prevalent religions and spiritualities of the world.

H picked out this photo of himself to share – at a Nascar event he attended with his Baba

What time? What time was I exactly born, Mamma?

It was around 4:30 in the afternoon. I remember because it was Ramadan, and everyone was fasting in our home. Except for me, of course. So, I went to the hospital, and you were born. Your Nana and Nani came to see you, and then Baba took them all to his office to break fast at sunset while I recovered. Thankfully the office was close to the hospital, so they weren’t far. Your Dada and Dadi were home with your brother and sister and came later that night to see you.

But you had stopped listening already. 4:30 p.m. was all you wanted to hear.

So, I won’t be ten until 4:30 in the afternoon. Not before that.

Give or take, I said to him. It was around 4:30, about an hour before sunset and fast-breaking time. That I do remember.

Ok, so then I’ll make plans for 4:30 p.m.

What plans, I ask you.

I’m going to jump in the pool at 4:30 p.m. It’s going to be epic!

I smile at you, amused at what little it takes to make something epic. How jumping into the water at the approximate time of when you were born is something that seems so cool and monumental to you. How little it takes to bring that rush of excitement to your face. And, how very thoughtful you are, in picking this particular activity, knowing it is something your older brother (and sister) will most likely happily participate in.

*********************************************************************

I prayed for a girl. This much I remember.

You were my most sought-after third child, the one who was growing in me after two failed pregnancies. After I had given birth to your brother and sister and given the challenges and ongoing struggles that had already entered our lives when your brother was officially diagnosed at the age of three, I never thought that I could have a miscarriage.

I had too many other things to think about. Of course all my pregnancies would go well. But after your sister had turned two and your Baba and I decided that we would indeed go for a third child, I had my first miscarriage at about ten or 11 weeks. It devastated me. How could this be happening to me?

About eight months after that, I was pregnant, but this one ended very early. The shock and pain were just as strong, though. And then, four months after that, I was pregnant yet again — this time it was with you, only I didn’t know it was you yet. I only knew fear – fear that every discomfort I felt was the start of something bad. Or, every momentary cramp I felt and ill feeling would lead to the end of what I so very much wanted.

Those first three months I held my breath as I drove your brother back and forth on 64 to his private autism school. As I picked up your sister from her preschool program near our home.

Please God, please. Please God, please. This was my mantra over and over and over. Once again, I didn’t understand why your Baba was living with relative ease during this time period. He could see my worry, but he did not seem stressed at all. We were even set to go to his friend’s wedding in Atlanta, but he saw my nervousness over cramps, so he changed the plans. I stayed at home with your brother and sister, and he went alone.

Even that angered me – how is leaving me at home with two young children any easier then travelling to a wedding? Sure, your Nana, my dad, came to stay with us, but it wasn’t the same. Frankly there was nothing your Baba could do in those early months that sat right with me.

Don’t worry, Dilshad, he would say to me. I’m fine with whatever happens. What is meant to be will happen.

Fine? I don’t want you to be fine! I want you to ride this roller coaster with me, I said to myself as a seethed inside with a festering mess of worry, resentment and frustration.

****************************************************************

At five months , we went in for the ultra sound. Before we headed to the doctor’s office, your Dadima said to me – I’m praying so hard that the baby is a boy. I want Taruj to have the son he always dreamed of.

I smiled at her, said Inshallah (God willing) and pushed down the bubbling anger that threatened to explode out of me. What do you mean the son he always dreamed of? He has a son – D. Just because D is profoundly autistic, just because Taruj isn’t having those typical, classic father-son moments with him doesn’t make him any less of a son.

I know she didn’t mean it the way I took it. But it was hard for me to get past that resentment.

So, I prayed as deeply and as fervently as I could for you to be a girl, so your brother’s role as a son would be forever preserved and not upstaged by anyone else. I also prayed for you to be a girl because when it comes to autism, boys are more likely to develop it or be born with it than girls. When I became pregnant with your sister, we were months away from diagnosis.

But with you – we knew everything. We were in the thick of things and willingly going for a third child. I felt like fate. So maybe if you were a girl, your chances of becoming autistic like your brother would be less.

I convinced myself that the latter was the main reason I prayed for two X chromosomes. But really, the preservation of D as the son of the house was in my mind. I never wanted him to feel like he was an afterthought in our home. You being a girl would be the best way of making sure of that, I thought.

I realize now, in remembering all this, that I was prescribing to some pretty warped thinking – thinking of everything from the perspective of your brother and sister rather than focusing on you being you. I should have been praying for you to be healthy, no matter boy or girl. I should have been relishing in the miracle that was you. And, I was. But these other thoughts grew and gripped areas of my mind like a stubborn vine.

What can I say? As much as I wanted you and fought to have you, how to manage three children, how to manage three children and autism loomed largely in my mind.

So, I lay on the examining table and felt the cold jelly on my slightly growing belly. The arm of the ultrasound machine pressed close down, trying to find a good picture of you. Ahhhh, there you were.

Do you want to know, asked the technician?

Yes, we both said.

Boy!

That was the first time I saw your Baba truly excited. I was too, but still wrapped up in warped thoughts about how this was all going to work. Would you be born healthy? Would you grow healthy? Would you hit your developmental milestones on time? Would you usurp your older brother in this old school tradition of the favorite son?

************************************************************

In many conversations since then, your Baba has asked me – why were you so upset initially when we found out we were having a boy?

I didn’t want that son to replace D as a son in our family, I told him.

Well now, that didn’t happen, did it? D is D, and H is H.

There was more I wanted to say to him. More complicated and difficult thoughts I had on that, how absolutely that is true. D’s place in our family is rock solid, but how I still feel twinges of a strange pain when I see your Baba get so excited because for the first time he is taking you to a youth cricket league to learn his favorite sport – that proverbial father-son milestone of playing a sport together.

But, why shouldn’t he enjoy these special things with you? These things that dads like to do with their sons? It doesn’t take away from the love and pride he has for D. We’ve come so far in our family relationships. The love is there, flowing and strong between your Baba and all of you, between me and all of you.

Everything you do – from stomping around our home, acting like a dinosaur, to climbing into my lap still and saying, I love you so much, Mamma, to slogging through your homework with me, to you and I bonding over the books you are reading – these experiences are immeasurably precious and profound to me.

Not because I’m juxtaposing what you and I are sharing (just like what I share with your sister) against all the things I cannot share with your brother. No. In all honestly, there is the bittersweet that creeps in from time to time, but that’s not it. Because, what I share with D is equally and immeasurably precious and profound.

You, H, are so very special to me because it’s you. It’s everything about you. All the silliness that has me laughing, all the forgetfulness that gets me so frustrated, all the tenderness and caring that melts my heart, all the deep and thoughtful questions you pose to me about life between all the random science-y ones, the very real and very honest brotherly relationship I see developing between you and D – I can’t get enough of it. God knew. Of course He knew I needed you.

I want to sit you down and tell you all this. And I will.

But there is no time to talk further. It’s a few minutes past 4:30 p.m. Happy Birthday, H! Come on, you say – time to jump in the pool!

Previous Post

September 26, 2017

Saudi Women are Granted the Right to Drive

Next Post

October 25, 2017 What I Really Want to Say is ...

Browse Our Archives

Select a Category A Global Voice for Autism Autism Awareness Month 2016 Autism Awareness Month 2017 Autism Interlude Hajj and Eid ul Adha Jenin Autism Project Ramadan Three Questions Uncategorized WISE Global Conference

Select a Month November 2018 October 2018 August 2018 June 2018 May 2018 April 2018 March 2018 February 2018 January 2018 December 2017 November 2017 October 2017 September 2017 August 2017 July 2017 June 2017 May 2017 April 2017 March 2017 February 2017 January 2017 December 2016 November 2016 October 2016 September 2016 August 2016 July 2016 June 2016 May 2016 April 2016 March 2016 February 2016 January 2016 December 2015 November 2015 October 2015 September 2015 August 2015 July 2015 June 2015 May 2015 April 2015 March 2015 February 2015 January 2015 December 2014 November 2014 October 2014 September 2014 August 2014 July 2014 June 2014 May 2014 April 2014 March 2014 February 2014 January 2014 December 2013 November 2013 October 2013 September 2013 August 2013 July 2013 June 2013 May 2013 April 2013 March 2013 February 2013 January 2013 December 2012 November 2012 October 2012 September 2012 August 2012 July 2012 June 2012 May 2012 April 2012 March 2012 February 2012 January 2012 December 2011 November 2011 October 2011 September 2011

TAKE THE

Religious Wisdom Quiz

What was the name of Saul's son who ruled Israel except Judah after Saul died?

Select your answer to see how you score.

Jonathan Mephibosheth Abner Ish-bosheth