Uproot

Lately I've been thinking about how people change over the years - the people I have known for ages, some since I was a child. Logically and morally I know that when people change something about themselves (especially in the religious sense), I should not be quick to judge them or the reasoning behind those decisions. But recently I've noticed a lot of my peers (and by peers I mean females of a similar age and with similar education) starting to become more liberal about their religion (as well as other things).

And while I know that religious decisions are deeply personal, I often wonder at the trends that I've been observing amongst my peers. I've noticed that as the years progress, many of them slowly start to detach themselves from their Muslim identities. The more they venture into higher education, the greater their separation from Islam. Obviously this isn't the case for all or even most women, but it has happened enough for me to notice it as a pattern.

I can't help but feel that as your education is furthered, there is an intense pressure put on you to adopt a code of thinking that favours self-taught knowledge over traditional teachings (traditional in the broadest sense of the word). I remember while I was in university, I always had this drive to continuously prove to my classmates and professors that I was an open-minded person, not tightly bound by traditional thinking. I desperately needed people to see me as something other than just a Muslim.

When I was pursuing my masters, my attitude changed - I don't know if this was because I had grown more experienced in life, or whether it was just because I sort of stopped caring about how other people perceived me. Instead of pushing my Islam out of the classroom, I made it the topic of my research papers and my presentations. I wrote about my personal journeys and my relationship to others being defined by my relationship to God. I came to terms with the fact that in a stand off between myself, my beliefs, my essence, and the system of education I wasn't going to be the only one to change.

I consider myself to be lucky that I didn't bend to the will of a higher education that claims to be inclusive but actually mocks most, if not all traditional types of knowledge. A lot of people are getting lost in the education system, they are trying to pull out their roots and plant them someplace else, they are distancing themselves from who they once were, as though to say I'm ashamed of my past. But I can't think of anything sadder or harder on the soul than giving up what you once were to be someone who only seeks acceptance and value from other human beings.

In my nostalgic moments, I sometimes rifle through my old poetry and blog posts, and I came across something from 2010 that made me grin:

there is a secret urge
that lays beneath my skin
to bury these old skeletons
and the coffins that they’re in

I’d take my trusty shovel
and dig throughout the night
and wipe my sweaty brow
with the garments of my plight

every speck of dirt dislodged
will remind me of your dead heart
and your ugly mangled faces
I was so fortunate to depart

but alas I do fear
that my stamina is low
so my shovel shall remain hidden
underneath my vengeance’s glow

and once my chance comes yet again
oh yes, that day you’ll see
the mercy that I once gave you
will be as scarce as a December bee.

Growing up with Baby

Observing baby's different milestones reminds me of how God taught man that which he knew not (96:5). She was born as a 6 pound, and now she's learning things so quickly that it's rather shocking. She'll literally be able to do something today that she couldn't do yesterday. Like randomly reach up to touch my face in an inquisitive manner - my chin, then lips, then nose (then naturally my glasses to try and pull them off).

But the truth is, I think I may be learning even more than her. I'm learning how to be a different human being - one who doesn't have the luxury of being selfish anymore. I'm learning a lot about love and fear and parental paranoia. God is teaching us both how to be new and different every day. We are both growing up.

Life Lessons for Baby

Though she's only 3 months old, once in a while I like to talk to my baby as though she's an adult. Instead of singing her the ABCs, I just level with her about life issues that she should know about as she grows up. These exchanges usually take place as I'm changing her diaper.

Today's life lesson was about knowing yourself and being true to yourself through honesty:

"Ruqaya, you need to know that the most important thing in life (after worshiping God, of course) is knowing yourself and being true to yourself through honesty. While growing up, you need to come to understand and appreciate yourself and your emotions. Never set aside your emotions in order to please someone else. For example, if someone has upset you or hurt your feelings, you need to be honest and tell that person how their actions have affected you. Your heart is the most important organ in your body and above all, you need to protect it (baba might say it's your brain that's the most important, but between you and me, it's your heart). In order to have true, honest, loving relationships, you need to first love yourself and then your heart and mind will be ready to love someone else."

Something tells me she agrees with me.

More Baby

I can hardly be surprised that I haven't posted for the last 2 months. Having a baby is an all-consuming life choice. I'm either feeding her, changing her, putting her to sleep, playing with her, or thinking about the challenges of raising a child to be a decent human being. And then there's the not sleeping at night thing which is as bad as it sounds.

I suppose the scariest thing of all is knowing that this is your life from now on, you can't change your mind and return to sender. That being said, I love her and she's precious, and seeing those first few smiles kind of makes me forget all the pain and sleepless nights.

I suppose all we can do is pray for our children to become good people, and try to post on our blogs in the short in fleeting intervals of free time we have.

And now I have to stop because my baby's hands are cold and that situation needs to be rectified.

Nov 10, 2012

Friday, November 9

My husband and I went in to the hospital for me to get an ultrasound, then we had some errands to run afterwards. But once we were done and heading out of the room, the doctor came to us and said "where do you think you're going?" and proceeded to explain to us that I had to be induced due to some concerns with the baby's movements in the womb (or lack thereof).

I remember that moment sitting in the hospital room, my heart dropping, my anxiety crashing through the roof. My husband was calmer, but that was only because he needed to balance me out. I'm pretty sure his blood pressure was also spiking to abnormal levels at the time.

So I filled out some forms, got checked in to the hospital and put into a labour and delivery room. I changed into a hospital gown. I made my husband miss Jummah prayer to be with me, which he did without hesitation.

Lying in that hospital bed, with an IV needle in the vein of my right hand, I felt my mind go blank. I wasn't ready for this, I thought I had at least another 2 weeks before I had to change my whole life for a baby. I was also in a constant state of worry - what if the baby wasn't okay? The doctor had mentioned that there was a 50% chance I would end up having a C-Section if the baby's heart was in distress.

After getting the epidural (which was an excellent decision), they started me on the drugs that would make my contractions begin. For the next several hours, the doctor would come in and check on me, looking at the baby's heart beat and seeming concerned. It seemed like an endless number of hours passed this way, with me not being able to move much, lying in bed with God knows what thoughts running through my mind.

The doctor finally came in as midnight approached and said the baby was not going through the contractions well. His heartbeat was getting low after each contraction, and if that continued for the next 30 minutes, the doctor would have to perform a C-Section. The nurse stopped the IV flow of the induction fluids. Now it was a waiting game.

By some miracle, my own body took over and I started having normal contractions which the nurse and doctor where very happy about (as was I). The baby's heartbeat went back up to normal since natural contractions are much less stressful on baby. And in the next hour or so, after much confusion, pain, and praying, my baby was born.

After 9 months of thinking it was a boy, at 12:42 am, the doctor pronounced "it's a girl." I remember the first thing I thought was "SHE WOULD BE!"...any daughter of mine would have to start off in this world as some kind of trickster. They cleaned her up while I was in a state of shock, my whole body shaking for no apparent reason. They handed her to me, and after all the worry that the doctor had instilled in our minds, there she was, a 6 pound and 5 ounce piece of perfection. We called her Ruqaya.

--

I now live in a kind of zone where time doesn't exist. Night and day are one. Sleep and wakefulness are not determined by the time on the clock. The whole purpose of my life is to keep this little being alive and fed and clean. And as difficult as it is at times, it's also the most valuable experience I've ever gone through. Your whole life changes permanently. Your perspectives change. Even your personality changes.

As scared as I was (and still am) to be a mother, I wouldn't trade it for anything else.

Alhamdulillah for the miracle that is life.

swollen

These days I mostly think about how much I've disappointed myself, and probably lots of other people in my life. A large portion of my time is also spent wondering how I'll ever be a mother even half as good as mine. I don't know that I have it in me. I feel frazzled, I feel like my life is made up of a lot of loose ends that I can't seem to get tied together. My head is a messy bundle of misplaced thoughts, nothing more. I want to close my eyes and disappear to someplace better, less full of pain and stress and worry. I want to not be stuck.

the only help is God's

I recently came across this quote while reading something online:  

"We're born alone, we live alone, we die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we're not alone."

I supposed I remembered it because I can't help but feel that in all the bustling of life, we are infinitely alone. When I came back to Toronto from Egypt, I hoped and even expected that I would get help from people that I knew and loved with certain things. And over the past month and a half I have come to realize that most people live only for themselves, and have little or no desire to lend a hand to someone else (regardless of his/her affinity towards the other).

I don't claim to be the one person out of one hundred that actually helps people when they are in need, but I always thought of myself as someone who, when given the opportunity and means to help someone, would do so.

The fact that people can feign concern for you and your well-being in such a seemingly genuine way, then discard you when you're in a time of need disturbs me. It makes me question many things that I thought I knew. It makes parts of me that I didn't realize could hurt, hurt.

At the end of everything, it's truly only God that you can lean and rely on. No other person can give you what He does, or plant the seeds of serenity in your heart. But I wish I could see more good in people, too, because the more selfish and uncaring humans that I come to know, the more I fear I may be just like them.

on being late

It has always made me wonder - the fact that your life can be so full of things and people, but still feel lonely and without meaning. I've been building my whole life in the hopes that one day I would be someone, do something. But mostly I feel that I've disappointed myself and the people around me.

I know that the absolute truth should always make us realize that God always has a plan for us beyond our own limited imaginations. Perhaps my life was not meant to have significant meaning in and of itself. Maybe my son or daughter is meant to be someone, to do something. Perhaps the meaning of my life is tied to that of the billions of others who have passed and are passing through this world without really touching the ground with their bare hands to understand truth and pain and life.

The older I grow, the more I come to know that more things inside me are broken than I can fix.

yeah