Today I heard the news about my friend and her baby;
a friend, more of a colleague – the quiet type.
I am one too, so, naturally I like her as a person – we get along
Anyways, a few weeks back I heard about her pregnancy.
I was so very happy for her. She shared with me with a beaming smile,
because she knows how happy I would be to hear the news.
She had already lost a child earlier, which we have in common;
and it took ages to conceive this second one.
So I was happy for her. For the joy I saw on her face.
I was also happy for her because I know how much it hurt.
How much it hurts to lose a life that you feel grow inside;
a life that you look forward to welcome with open arms;
a life that you know belongs to you, is made from the inside of you.
She lost her first baby some years back, and by that time I had two.
She lost her first one, after carrying it for six bitter-sweet MONTHS.
On that day, I recalled how I felt years back
- how I felt after losing my baby;
A baby that I had carried inside me for only six WEEKS.
I mourned for my loss again that day.
I recalled how shattered I was, how guilt ridden I was!
How angry I was at everyone around me, mostly at
and secondly with my husband, but above all with myself.
For, to begin with I had not wanted a second baby – it was not planned!
But God SHOULD know how happy I was to find out I was pregnant.
God SHOULD know that there was only a lingering doubt inside me;
the way my life was back then, with one kid, a not so supportive partner;
how ONLY a little doubt I had in me. But God punished me, I believed!
When God took the baby away from me – I blamed him & myself.
I know how much I cried inside, how much blame I blamed myself
How much I went through “how I wish I had not said this … or that”
“How I wished I did not do that… or this”.
How I wished I had not not let him do that…
Every time I hear someone miscarry, I cry more – for my baby, for my loss.
I cry for another life lost, another hope of two parents lost;
I feel sorry for the bereaving mother – knowing there would be guilt.
No matter what – there will be guilt and “what ifs”.
Guilt of some sort. It’s a psychological thing I am sure.
We find something or someone to blame,
for whatever catastrophe that befalls on us …
it’s human nature. When it comes to babies, the blame lies with us;
the mother takes the brunt of it all.
Today I send out a prayer to all mothers who lost a life inside her;
who lost a light from her eyes, who lost some hope and some faith.
I pray we all learn to move along life’s path with a lighter heart.
I know I walked a road of hateful hurt until I learned I was pregnant again,
I walked with a frightful heart until I held my third baby in my hands
I walked with a guilt ridden heart until I saw my baby growing healthily.
Moving on with such a darkened-frightful heart is not the easiest fete.
Mothers are made strong to weather it all, the pain the hurt, the grief.
I wonder what a father goes through losing his child -
a child he has not felt in him,
not held in his hands,
not felt in his womb.
P.S. I do not know if my 2nd baby was a girl or a boy.
If it was a he, I think I would have called him Ejaz
If it was a she, I think I would have called her Zeyna