Another blog neglected: Reflections from the fourth trimester

For someone who enjoys blogging as much as I do, and is an avid consumer of blogs, I have a horrible habit of neglecting my own. Thoughts pile on to thoughts for months at a time so that when I do finally sit down at the keyboard, it's incredibly daunting to start typing for fear they'll come flooding out and what results will make no sense at all.

So as another attempt to get the writing flowing, I will write about the biggest thing going on right now: on October 8, I became a mom.

Our beloved daughter entered the world quite dramatically, a day before her scheduled caesarean (due to a stubbornly breech position) giving me the gift of still getting a "This is what happened when Mommy went into labor!" story but also the experience of a caesarean. I was fortunate, alhamdulilah, that everything went smoothly for myself and Babes, and that my recovery was not the bear it could have been.

The past seven weeks have been the best of my life. Not the easiest, by far, though as I said I was blessed in many ways. But definitely the best. I was one of those women who, as long as I can remember, wanted to be a mother. Even when I was unsure about so many things in my life, one goal that stayed consistent and dear to my heart was to have a child. And throughout my pregnancy, and even the last several weeks, I still have moments where the weight of realizing one of my most cherished dreams hits me and I will whisper, "Thank you, God," into the darkness of my bedroom or the steering wheel of my car or into my daughter's ear.

It's a magic like no other, and I pray that every woman who wants to be a mother and man who wants to be a father gets to experience it in their lifetime. So often, especially in the beginning, the focus is on the mother and the child, and fathers fall a bit to wayside, but I must say, seeing my husband's transition to fatherhood has been just as magical as watching my daughter grow each day in our arms.

The depth of feeling from this entire experience cannot be described. I don't think I'll be able to now after almost two months of living it or even in twenty, forty years when my daughter is a woman and (iA) a mother herself.

One gift this time (and paid maternity leave) has given me is a lot to reflect on and the time to do it (when you're awake at 4 am, alone except for the baby dosing as she nurses, watching the sunrise and the birds stirring outside the bedroom window, it's exhausting but also so, so inspiring). One major thing I have been reflecting on these past weeks is how much more I respect all of the mothers that I know (and even those I don't know), and moreso, how extremely, indescribably grateful I am for my own mother.

I have a wonderful relationship with my mother. I always have, even during the darker, tumultuous times of my life (like the entirety of my teenage years into, honestly, my early 20s). I can honestly say we have never had a fight. That sounds ridiculous, but I've thought about it long and hard and though she may not have always agreed with my choices, she was never judgmental, punishing, or held a grudge. We have never been "not speaking to each other," or even upset with each other for more than a few minutes. She definitely always let her opinion be known (and always will even as I am mother myself now) but whatever my decision was, she supported me, and whether it worked out as I intended or not, she was there with unquestioning, unconditional love. I know a lot of people say this, but I truly could not have a more wonderful mother.

My first thought when I found out that I was having a daughter was, "I hope I am to her what my mother is to me." That is, essentially, my everything. The one who taught me what true love is by living it every day. Who taught me the importance of family. Of kindness. Of acceptance. I pray that I can be that for Babes. Her love and support has enabled me to be strong, to take risks, to think for myself. I would not be the happy, confident woman I am today without her.

And that is not even touching on the millions of sacrifices, small and large, that she made and continues to make for me, for my husband who she loves as her own son, and now, for my daughter who has her eyes. Some I won't even ever know about, and none of which she ever did expecting anything in return. I do everything in my power to repay her, knowing I never can, and even when she tells me not to, that I don't owe her anything. And I have promised myself to do the same for my daughter, because she deserves it. I was so, so blessed to have all of that and more, and I owe it to not only my daughter but to my mother as well to make her proud and keep the tradition of her love alive.

Because in a world like ours, which can seem overrun with darkness, hate, and sadness, any light (which is what love is, after all) should be protected, nourished, and fought for. And it won't always be easy. But it's what we owe to each other, in this dunya, and I believe it is what Allah (swt) wants us to leave behind when our time here is over and our bodies return to the earth.

Until next time, which I hope is sooner than later.