KID-IN-ME

ONE is for:

2006-09-03T23:59:00.000+01:00

‘WHAT the heckers like happened?? One is also for WAAAKKKKKEEEE UUUPPP…….
Oh woe is me….my head is spinning literally. No matter how much I rub my eyes I cannot see clearly.
I feel like vomiting from underneath the pit of my stomach. I can’t remember what my name is, what we called the baby, and who else lives in this house.
Now this cute heart warming little scenario is what I go through every few hours of the day; multiply the intensity of disorientation and it’s what I go through most of the night.
ONE, my friends, is for ‘month one’.
Was it this hard the first time around?? I dozily question myself over and over. I remind myself it must have been, because this gut wrenching fatigue was way too familiar to me.

The Togster doesn’t sleep for more than an hour or so.
Sometimes I put him down, and start running for the bathroom or to go grab a snack, and he is awake within five minutes.
I have to latch him back on and feed him, he drinks slowly and sleepily and I have to tickle his ears and feet constantly to keep him going.

I feel very hungry for the first two weeks.
The midwives keep telling me not to forget to eat. Believe me, my stomach wouldn’t allow me. It reminds me constantly I need food, even through the night I find I am feeling hungry and in need of quick snacks.
I’m told to eat a lot to be able to produce the high fat rich milk the baby needs now.
The initial runny but nutrient milk will not sustain him for too long and I need to get my milk supply going by latching him on very often.
I have no choice, masha’Allah, bless him he is a hungry baby and has taken to breastfeeding very quickly and easily. Alhumdulillah.
It’s me who is having the problems.
Each time he latches on my uterus contracts; this causes immense agony. For the first three-four days I have been in sheer pain.
The contractions are so intense I feel as though I am in labour and have to breathe deep, and hold on to something to steady myself.
So each time he cries I cringe at the thought of feeding. I know I have to, but if I could get away with not doing it-I think I would.
Alhumdulillah this passes.
The other thing I feel is extreme soreness.
Other mothers, midwives and book experts all recommend different remedies, from breastfeeding nipple creams, to rubbing some breast milk over the affected area (as breast milk is anti-bacterial and healing) or simply allowing the affected area to completely dry before covering. many mothers experience and will empathise with the dry cracks and bleeding that often accompanies the initial stages of feeding.
I found the soreness was intensely painful each time he latched on (which ranged form every ten minutes to half hour) and this lasted for the first month, getting less by six weeks.
Sore to the point I thought ‘that’s it, I cant breastfeed any more.’ My midwife tells me, most new mums feel this way and get through it.. A close friend who had her baby this time last year told me to keep going and whatever I did, not to stop.
‘I’m trying, I’m trying..’* She says gritted teeth, clenched fists and tears in eyes*.
But this too passed. I just had to get through the pain barrier. *squirms at the memory*
Engorgement is a problem I had only once, and a good hot shower soon fixed it along with constant feeds to empty myself of milk and create fresh supply. Apparently savvoy cabbage leaves are very good for alleviating pain. You are supposed to stick a couple of leaves in the fridge then put one each inside your bra. I did not have time to go look for cabbages, I did not fancy the idea of having some manky old vegetable rotting in my underwear. So that was as far as that theory went with me. However there are gel filled pads available for those of you who are interested or need some pain relief. They go hot and cold. but nothing will beat the good old fashioned method of emptying yourself of milk to get rid of milk lumps and all the discomfort that goes with it, and the best way of doing that is to let your child feed as often as possible in those early weeks.

The other thing I found was I couldn’t stand up for more than five or ten minutes at all without feeling like my legs were going to give way. I felt drained beyond belief and was physically unable to do much. This really frustrated me. Never had there been so much to do and never have I been able to do so little.
I was blessed if I could have a shower

The second day home, I woke after a couple of hours sleep and came downstairs.
Tookh was allowed to stay home today we wanted to be together and wanted him home to share the new little life as it joined our family.
Then, something strange happened to hubby.
He began running around the house like some demented chook for the next few hours and cleaned, sorted and polished. He went on some housewife overdrive.
Whilst cleaning sorting and cooking, he would bring me meals snacks and water, fetch me things look after baby etc I observed in quiet amazement. I was struck by his utter kindness and care, but wondered how long he would be able to keep up such a super feat.
This madness and insanity raged until Thursday when suddenly he pooped out.
He looked grey, drained and all wifed out.
That’s hubby through and through.
Once he gets an idea into his head, or starts a project he does it with so much gusto and immense passion then…burn out.
Oh did he burn out. He looked as exhausted as I felt, he had no energy left, and I almost thought he was going to get ill. It kinda put an end to all the manic running around.
He was so sweet. But going at that rate, I was on my way to redundancy as mother and wife, keeper of the house. Thank goodness we found our balance again; he carried on helping, just at a do- able rate.
I remember wondering how on earth I was going to cope without another female around to help me, to reassure me with Toga etc. I felt quite scared. But instinct kicked it again, and lol so did hubby. He looked after us round the clock; taking Tookh to school, feeding him, bathing him, homework etc
I didn’t have a spare minute but he took care of everything else so I could concentrate on the little Toga.

More than anything I was just too tired to think. I was mentally and physically so exhausted I couldn’t really muster much thought.
That Monday in the early afternoon, Hubby tucked me and Toga into bed, and before he left I clutched at him, and through tears and a choked throat I told him JazzakAllah khayr for being my rock. As far as I was concerned he was my hero. The delivery had traumatised me and I couldn’t even bear the thought of it. He had been there all the way through. Not just been there, but really been there.
As he left the room I remember sobbing, trying not to wake Toga. I was overwhelmed. I was consumed by trauma, by shock, by a new found admiration and respect for him and indeed a new found perspective on everything.

I also couldn’t face the prospect of visitors after coming home. Apart from very close relatives (like parents), and even then, only for half an hour at the most. Every one else who called we asked politely if they would kindly wait a few weeks before visiting. I really needed my privacy at this time. I needed time to heal, time to get my head straight before I could sit and chat with people.

I went through a strange feeling for those first two weeks.
I was scared. I was constantly scared of being alone.
Well when I say alone it was more being scared without Hubby.
Every single time he left the room I wanted to scream for him not to go. But I bit my lip each time, telling myself I was being stupid and that some weird post natal weakness had invaded my heart.
I couldn’t help it. Whenever he was around I would feel safe, and reassured, but as soon as he was out of eye and earshot, I felt as though I just couldn’t cope with life. I felt as vulnerable as the tiny baby I was holding.
The first time he and Tookh left the house, I cried after they left.
I didn’t want him to go.
I felt as though I was a small helpless child, who couldn’t cope without its mother.
I know it does sound crazy but it is how I felt and no matter what, I couldn’t stop it. I look back now and can see clearly I had become very fragile and delicate. nine months of a hard pregnancy, polished off with a slog of a labour had taken their toll.
Alhumdulillah for it all. Women across the globe go through far far worse and I know I had it easy in comparison.

Thank goodness this gradually stopped after a couple of weeks, and I gradually came to my senses.

The Toga is a funny little creature. He seldom stays awake long enough to really get much of him, but when he does, he is very alert for his newborn age.
Because I am his mother, to me he is the most beautiful baby in the world as was Tookh when I first laid eyes on him.
His eyes are like big dark marbles. He has an intense look, and he seems very observant already.
Hubby and Tookh bought him a soft green rattle on the third day. It was amazing to watch him trying to follow it with his eyes. He could look at it only so long before he got tired.
We would try and snatch these few precious moments of him playing in between feeds and sleep.
The other thing this Toga does a lot of is pooh.
Yup, bright yellow very runny, pooh. It must have been about his third evening, it was around the middle of the night, whilst I was changing him and Hubby was hovering around, that Toga decided to do one mid change.
I can see it slow ‘motion’ now; I remember something coming at me, and before I even knew what it was I let out a yelp, then I realised it was pooh flying at me. I then grabbed his nappy and covered the entrance of the enemy line from where it hailed.
I waited for him to finish and as I looked at myself I saw I had pretty little arrangements of yellow flower like patterns distributed in a delicate design around my pyjamas.
I was horrified. I t took me back to Tookhs first few days at home, where the same had happened. It came from nowhere and shot at me spraying me all over. I was more horrified then as I had never experienced it before.
Anyway I cleaned up Toga, and then I went to clean up me.
Hubby had looked absolutely horrified during this. He had sworn, and declared repeatedly that he would do anything and everything but change a nappy. This incident only exacerbated his irrational fear.
He watched stunned as I went to and fro from the bathroom, and got myself de-poohed.
Then as if I hadn’t been humiliated enough, he found the funny side of it and couldn’t stop laughing me. Every time I looked up, he was diving towards the ground arms up in mid air shouting, “I’ll save ya Mr. President…hee hee hee…”
*rolls eyes*

By Thursday, my body ached so much from top to toe, I felt as though I had run in some marathon, or completed some Olympic event. I was extremely sore; I could feel my bones, and muscles aching. I knew the long labour really taken it out of me and that it was going to be a painfully slow recovery.

Whenever time permitted, I would take a quick soak in a bath infused with tea tree oil. The stuff is superb, Subhana’Allah it has to be one of the real blessings from Allah. It is amazing stuff, it has such beneficial healing properties, I would recommend a bottle for every household. It is anti-bacterial, as well as anti-septic, and is great on cuts, wounds and for things like stitches. It also unblocks a blocked nose quite well.

Toga has very sharp teeny tiny fingernails. To keep his hands warm and to stop him scratching himself I have to keep his mittens on him all the time.
They became known in the house as ‘showbiz’ mittens. I think it has something to do with smeeta smitten showbiz kitten from Goodness Gracious me- if any of you remember it. From that we somehow ended up calling Toga our showbiz chicken as he also had the thinnest little chicken legs. He has to be the worlds cutest (masha’Allah)little showbiz chicken lol….

Another name he earned was Mouch. Toga is a long baby, and because he is so long, and because his name begins with an M, we ended up calling him Mouch because of Peter Crouch, the lanky lad from Liverpool famous for his height and headers. Scouse fans (or enemies) will know what I am talking about…

At around three weeks we cut his hair (according to Islamic rites). Gosh that was trauma in itself.
You-our dear brother (you know I am talking to you) came round with your family, armed with the swanky hair trimming machine. You cut his beautiful silky dark hair down to a few millimetres in length, and then began shaving it. A quarter of the way through you had to go home as it had taken much longer than we thought and it was very late.
But, we had to finish the job. So reluctantly, hesitantly and nervously I took the razor and began. I could feel my heart in the upper part of my throat, and my hands shaking as I began.
My Toga cried a lot from the disturbance and eventually exhausted, cried himself to sleep. I carried on. As time went on I picked up speed and gathered momentum. The nerves steadied as I kept telling myself to get a grip and just get it done.
After a while I was tired and Hubby took over.
This was one job neither one of us liked at all. It was awful, but we did it.
Something I never want to do again.
When it was over I was so relieved I cannot explain.

As three weeks passed, it was time for hubby to go back to work, and for me resume the school drops and pickups for Tookh. I was gutted to see Hubby go back. I knew I would miss him terribly. I know it sounds strange, but he has become my Hubby, my best friend, my mum, all in one.
I didn’t know what I would do without him.
However I knew I had to thank Allah for what time I had with him at home, and that all considering, he still had working hours which enabled him to come home early and be with us most of the evening.

The one thing which didn’t let up was the exhaustion I felt. I was severely deprived of sleep.
No matter what I did, I couldn’t catch up.
The child spent more time feeding than sleeping, and then it took ages burping him. Although I remembered I had driven myself to delirious exhaustion trying to burp Tookh, I knew this time I should be wary of repeating the same mistake and spent only so long. Then burp or not I would have to put him down. Very often he would wake screaming after a few minutes because the said burp had decided it wanted to be expelled now .I was sure it was a conspiracy on behalf of the burp. It was out to get me; it was trying to kill me….

Barely sleeping in the evening, this Toga would shut his eyes around midnight only to wake again an hour or so later.
I have no idea how I would wake. Each time my head would spin from dizziness, and that sick feeling would kick me in the guts. He would feed for about 45minutes, then do a pooh or few for that matter, then I would have to feed him again. So about three hours would have passed just like that.
He would then sleep for a couple of hours only to wake again for a feed.

I used to feed him leaning back sitting up in bed against pillows. Initially this caused me immense pain everywhere. It was often too hard to bear. I am wondering if those nursing chairs are any good.
After the first couple of weeks the pain subsided and I was just left too tired.

The fatigue definitely had an effect on me. I felt so tired that I began feeling miserable. I felt as though life had just become black and bleak. I felt isolated. I knew I was fighting myself all the time to bite my tongue because I felt very impatient, making me snappy and hostile. I was doing the passive-aggressive thing.
Sometimes I would look at Toga waking and just mentally plead with him, ‘no please, not now, please give me an hour more…’
I had to tell myself that he wasn’t doing it intentionally, that he was a baby, dependant on me, that his tiny body needed the nourishment. I had to keep telling myself that it wouldn’t last forever, and that was the only way I got through the first 6 weeks.

For me, this was by far the worst aspect of being a newbie mummy. In the quiet dark hours of the night, it can be a very isolated world. You’re up not out of choice but having to be awake for your baby, whilst everyone else sleeps on. By day you are good for not much at all as a result of the night. You are going through major physical and psychological changes and the circle of fatigues winds round seemingly endlessly.
Somehow though, time does move on, your baby grows and slowly learns to go a few minutes longer each time before waking.
By no means is it over, but there is hope as each day turns into the next.

With the first month over, I was barely getting over the shock and immense changes to my mind and body.
Let me welcome myself back to the joys and trials of early ‘mummyhood’.

The Aftermath.........

2006-06-11T23:49:00.000+01:00

I was allowed to hold Toga for ages; we stared at him and babbled about how masha’Allah perfect he was.
The poor little fellow was so exhausted. His journey must have been as arduous as mine.
Hubby went to call a couple of close family members (and one of them was you T. Babee), he then came back to me and sat beside me while at the other end of the bed Penny and Grace completed the job.
I was given an injection to help deliver the placenta quickly. I hardly remember it. Alhumdulillah the epidural was still in action so I didn’t feel any pain. Penny marvelled at just how much umbilical cord had been inside me, it seemed as though miles of the stuff had come out, along with a huge placenta.
No wonder I had felt so tired and heavy during pregnancy…it must have been weighing me down and causing all that discomfort.
I then had to have stitches as I had torn a little, but again the epidural relieved me of any pain I would have felt.

Toga was taken, cleaned, and weighed. He weighed in at 7lb 11oz. Tookh had weighed 6lb 12oz.
Toga was dressed, wrapped in a shawl, and was placed in an incubator. Hubby had gone out of the room at this point, and as the midwives were busy cleaning, writing, organising etc, I watched my baby who was wide awake, suddenly just started softly talking…. in baby language, gurgling gently to himself. I was stunned; it was almost as though he were conversing with someone.
He did this for a few seconds, before going quiet.
All I could think was, ‘you have just entered the world and there you are chattering away…’
The similarities to his father were unquestionable. The mini mouth had made his entrance….

I was wondering how Tookh was. All day he had never left my mind, and I had wondered if had eaten and what, and if he was ok, if he had watched too much T.V at his grandparents…typical mum thoughts. I had really missed him though; it was probably the longest I had been without him since he had been born.

Hubby came back, and I held our Toga again. I asked Hubby to text a few close friends who had made me promise to tell them as soon as it happened.

Hubby looked exhausted. I told him to go home, and get some rest.
I knew I still had a while yet before settling down and there was no point making him wait.

I was still lying in utter chaos and mess, but was too numb to feel it.

Hubby left me a huge glass of ice cold Pepsi, and there was jug of water next to me too.

After he went, I was so tired. I held Toga to me, and he slept, cuddled up swaddled to my chest.
I found myself incredibly thirsty. It was so strange I couldn’t keep my eyes open, and I kept dozing off, I had no energy at  all, but I kept waking every few minutes for water. The thirst was overpowering.

I had been left to allow the epidural to wear off, and the drip was also still attached to me. So I lay in half awake/sleep state for the next hour.

Eventually Penny came back, and removed the tubes from my arm. She put Toga in the incubator, and began cleaning me, preparing me to get up.
She had bought in a wheelchair, and asked me what I needed form my overnight bag as I was being taken to the shower room.
Than God I was well prepared, and had kept just about everything I needed in one toiletries bag. I had that and my p.j’s, my flip-flops, and towel taken out.

All this took quite a while, and Penny and I chatted. She told me she had been an intensive care nurse.
I felt a real sense of admiration for her.
I have had relatives in I.C.U and know how harrowing it can be, and that’s just for the visitors.
We talked about life and illness, and I asked her if all the births in the maternity unit go well, and she stopped what she was doing, and looked me straight in my eyes and said ‘sometimes … its not all right’.
I found out that rarely mothers do die in this process and I felt so thankful to my creator for bringing me through safely.

A stupid thing to think and I do sometimes, which is; I don’t know what I would do if I had died.
Reality is, I would be in the life of the barzakh and I would do and have to face whatever it is Allah has ordained for me, and the life of this world would be behind me.
I wondered, what would my husband and children do?
Trying to imagine how they would cope with grief, a newborn and each other is too overwhelming and has me in tears just to think of it.
I shouldn’t entertain thoughts of ‘what ifs’.  Yet around the world this is the reality for millions of people. A humbling thought if there was one.

For what we have and for whatever we think we don’t have we need to be thankful, something I often realise I am not at all.

I had my shower, and while I was weak and dizzy it was the most welcome thing. There is nothing like warm water to wash away not just physical but emotional hardship too.
When I came out Penny had the wheelchair ready for me, and we went back to my room to collect my baby, while she took my overnight bag.

We went out of the ward, into the lift, and towards another ward upstairs.
A nice long journey in the middle of the night through the dark quiet corridors, we talked all the way. We talked about her family, about mine, about life and the indeed the value of precious human life, and the value of time.
I think after what we had both witnessed and shared, a simple chat about the weather would have been absolutely lame.

She wheeled me into a ward, and towards a room which housed four beds, I had the one nearest the door. She carefully put baby in his incubator and tucked me up in bed and made sure all was comfortable for me.
She came over to say goodbye and I thanked her from my heart. I held my arms out and she bent forward to hug me, and I held her tightly for a second.
This woman had been part of one of the most profound moments of my life, she had been the first one to hold my baby and bring him to me and for that alone I pray Allah guides her to the best way of life.

It was to be a long night; it was already about 1am.
I had drawn the curtain around my bed for privacy but could hear what was going on in the room.
The woman on the right of me inside her curtain was on her mobile, chatting softly to her husband in urdu or Punjabi-I couldn’t tell… and I didn’t really want to know. I lay there rolling my eyes up thinking, ‘for goodness sake you are not supposed to be on your mobile, besides you should be knackered from delivery’. But then I remembered how differently women react after giving birth and not all are tired. You can sometimes feel hyperactive or too euphoric to sleep. I remember I had that with Tookh; I had to get up at 3am to phone a close friend the news because I couldn’t wait.

The woman opposite me was awake, she was coughing and then effing and blinding away to herself, I realised she must have had a c-section and the coughing was too much pain for her to bear, and the woman in the far corner was trying to settle her baby who seemed a little agitated.
My Toga wasn’t waking, but every now and then he would whimper or moan and wriggle, and I would reach out to stroke him and pat him back to sleep.
I hoped he wouldn’t wake for milk because I was very sore, I was very uncomfortable, and I had to go the bathroom every hour or so to clean up because the bleeding was too heavy.
Listening to the ward sounds in the dark was very strange.
I lay awake in numb shock reminiscing over the last nine months of my life, and here in front of me was the fruit of my toil.
And never has this verse hit me harder than it does now;

And We have enjoined on man (to be dutiful and good) to his parents. His mother bore him in weakness and hardship upon weakness and hardship, and his weaning is in two years give thanks to Me and to your parents, unto Me is the final destination.
Surah luqman,31:14

When morning eventually came I noticed on one of my millionth walks to the bathroom how nice the whole ward was. It was bright, open, and clean. The bathrooms and facilities were plentiful and clean. The kitchen was lovely with a help yourself service…and lol I did.
I actually felt comfortable and surprisingly happy there.
It’s ironic because this was the part I had been dreading. Looking back, it had been a dull and dreary hospital I had attended in London when having Tookh, and I hadn’t been impressed.

I waited a couple of hours before calling hubby at 9am, he was still in bed. I needed some more clothes, and extras. I didn’t know how long they would keep me in so I needed to be prepared.
I thought they would at the most keep me in for another day or so.

Hubby wasn’t allowed to visit till 1ish, so I had breakfast, and sorted out baby clothes etc and had a lie down.
I cleaned Toga’s nappy. He had done his first pooh. it is known as Meconium, this first pooh is a black green paste, which is a mixture of amniotic and other fluids collected in the baby’s intestine inside the womb. This soon changes to mustard yellow and dare I say far more manageable to wipe pooh.
I then waited for the nurse to come round and show me how to bath my baby.
I know its strange seeing as I have had Tookh I should know. Truth is, after so long I felt a little rusty and nervous. It has been 6 years, and I almost felt as though I were a new mother again.

The nurse did it in five minutes going through all the little precautions with me, and Toga was soon in fresh clothes smelling cute and baby-ish. It was lovely to have him clean; he hadn’t been dirty, or smelled bad, but just knowing his past had been washed off him was relieving for me.

It had been ten hours since Toga had last fed; apparently it is usual for new babies to not want food a lot for the first day or so. I was still a little worried, but then I could see how exhausted he was.

We all introduced ourselves in the room and had a little chat, compared babies, bruises, and other gory things as only women can do. Bit like men’s changing rooms at football eh?

I lay down; feeling exhausted as I had still had literally no sleep the previous night.
I couldn’t wait to see my little Tookh when he saw his little brother for the first time, and I couldn’t wait to see my husband. I felt restless and lost without them, and was counting the minutes.

When they arrived it was as though a long thirst had been quenched.
They examined Toga and stared at him.
It was lovely to have them with me, as I had really missed them. I felt very lost without them, and even though I had Toga, it was all too new for me to adapt quickly.

After that my dad and brother came, and it was amusing to watch my father hold Toga with nerves and fear.
I guess you must forget how delicate and fragile these little creatures are when they are so tiny.
The nurse came round and told me I could go home whenever I wanted.
I wanted to go home simply because it was so inconvenient in finding fresh clothes and storing used ones. I packed everything up, and early that evening Hubby drove us home. I noticed how he drove so carefully taking care at every junction, bump and corner – he had special little cargo  to take care of…

Going home was very odd. I came inside and immediately felt frustrated confused and lost.
I have never even told Hubby this, but I felt pretty down and out.
I felt as though I didn’t belong there. I didn’t know what to say, I didn’t want to do anything, I didn’t want to sit or lie down or stand, I didn’t particularly want to talk to anyone but I didn’t want to be alone.
I felt so down and I didn’t know why.
For some strange reason it felt so ark and heavy and I was at a loss.

Toga by now was feeding, crying and starting to behave more like a newborn baby.
I felt as though I needed the hospital and the experience of the nurses around me, that I couldn’t do this on my own.
It was around midnight before we finally made it up, and Toga would not settle in his cot.
I was going to throw up with exhaustion. Eventually I had no choice but to put him in bed with me, and amazingly he calmed and went to sleep for a few hours.

Looking back, he must have been feeling pretty insecure himself and must have needed my smell and warmth near him.

And so marked the end of the delivery and birthing saga; another chapter closed.
With my family sleeping soundly in their own beds I thank Allah for His mercy, and His immense blessings.
Here we were, average ordinary people tucked away in our little home amongst millions of others under the same sky, on this one beautiful planet.
For now the world continues turning as yet another new life makes its entrance, innocently touching our hearts and souls in sweet ignorant bliss.
Subhana’Allah.

KID-OUT-OF-ME

2006-04-28T18:25:00.000+01:00

I am now officially a ‘Blogsbeen’.  In reality this means I am a has been in the blog world. In fact I feel like a has been in my ‘normal’ world.
Yes folks as you may well know or have guessed, the Toga is out!
Toga/Perrep, has finally escaped what must have felt like a sentence in Alcatraz. After digging slowly away for nine months, the creature has escaped from ma belleh.
However the creature has captured me, and is holding me hostage to meet its every desire and need (probably as payback), and has mashed up my brain in the process.
I live in the demented world of new mothers, where there is no distinction between night and day, nor meaning to either. It’s a place where meals are eaten between the changing mat and cot, you live in endless pyjamas, walk around with demonic red eyes, your vision is constantly blurred, and everything you hear is loud, muffled and grinds through you till that sharp trill LOUD cry emanates from the new creature and your body jerks awake in pain. You even have to have a plan of action of how and when to have a shower in true military fashion. I barely recognise my family, in fact I barely recognise myself in the mirror.
Hence me not blogging for what seems like decades.

I have missed blogging. Truth be told it has been kind of cathartic for me doing this over the past year…I haven’t read back  what I have written, and it would be good to do so,  just to see what has taken place.
I was pondering over whether to talk about the birth or not.
I know it’s not many people’s cup of coffee, but I decided to go ahead with it; partly because this blog is almost like a diary for me, and if God wills in years to come my children can read back and see for themselves (what a crackpot their mother is), and partly because I think whilst this is an extremely personal and intimate subject for each woman, it is something that is natural, and a part of almost all lives at some point. And maybe some of this could be of use or interest to other mothers/fathers( to be) in some way.

Problem is, where do I start?
I guess I left you somewhere just before Toga’s imminent arrival.
It was the 20th of January and I knew although this was my estimated date of delivery, it aint gonna be happening today. I could feel it in my waters, or not feel it in my waters if you get me.
Anyway boy did I feel depressed. I had had enough. I was heavy, tired, heavy, tired, heavy…get my jist?
I couldn’t move, breath, eat, go to the bathroom, take a shower, pull up my socks, get my shoes on, hold a conversation, pray etc etc etc.
This was the lowest end of my tether. I wanted to bury my head in my blanket and sob, but it would serve no purpose but to tire me more so I gritted my teeth and got through the evening.
By the next morning, Saturday I was in a much better place. I realised this baby was only coming at his/her appointed time by God, and no amount of nonsense from me was going to change that, so I relaxed. I knew if it didn’t come soon I had been given a date for inducement so either way it had to come out, I just needed the patience to see it through.

Besides, everyday I would look around the house and know that I wasn’t ready because there was ironing to be done, or the bathroom needed cleaning, or this or that had to be done. This is the totally illogical part of me, the paranoid, obsessive me who is not satisfied till every little dot is under control. I knew this was ridiculous but I couldn’t help it.

Once upon a time, there was a contraction…

One week on, we had gone to bed on the Thursday evening, and at around 3am of that Friday I woke from my sleep in a strange way. I woke as though I knew I had to be up for something, and within seconds of waking, I felt a ‘click’ inside me. I knew what it was even though I had never felt it before.
My waters had broken; I went to check in the bathroom and sure enough they had.
At last…
I didn’t what to feel, nervous, exited, scared…all of them really.
I woke hubby and told him. I waited in bed for a while, then went down to phone the delivery suite. They told me to come in when I could and that it wasn’t a hurry even though I could feel contractions.
So I got together my things, and we woke up Tookh as normal at 7, and dropped him off to my parents. We headed off to the hospital with my overnight things in the back just in case.
On arrival at the delivery suite I was given what looked like a big hollow egg carton to pee in. Last thing I needed; to strategically pee into some cup whilst having a contraction in some tiny hospital bathroom.
I came back and the attending midwife wanted to do an internal. She checked me and told me I wasn’t in labour yet, and to go home with some thermometer strips and take my temperature every four hours, and keep an eye on the contractions.
She said waving her fingers about in front of my face, and I quote, ‘now that I have fiddled with you, things might start happening a bit quicker’
I felt utterly violated.
Fiddled with???

So we went back, got the Tookhster and dropped him off to school where some of my mummybumchums saw me heavy breathing (something I’m not normally prone to doing) in the car and looked really exited to see that Toga was at long last on the way out.

This was the start of an extremely long day and night to follow. The contractions continued, and the pain just got slowly worse. By the middle of the night I knew we would have to go in soon. By 3 am I was in agony at each contraction. This night seemed endless. Its funny how everyday seems to whiz past me, hours and minutes fly, but when you are in pain, even the seconds drag.
By about 3 in the morning, Hubby fell asleep on the couch, as I sat, and walked around clutching on to whatever I could when the next wave of pain came. Poor guy, he was so tired, and I knew we had a long long way to go so I let him be as long as I could.
We dropped Tookh back off at my folks at around 8ish and headed back off to hospital. I remember feeling every bump on the road just go through me. I wanted to get there quickly, but I wanted the car to stop…it was utter agony.

We were taken into an examination room and I was given an internal by a midwife called Karen, who was one of those, ‘I’m here to do my job and absolutely nothing more’ nurses.
An hour or so later, a doctor came in after there had been much faffing over the trace which monitored Toga’s heart rhythm, and told us that a caesarean may be needed soon.
Well my own heart rate rose at hearing that. Apparently they couldn’t tell if Toga was alright or not as his/her heart rate kept dipping.
They monitored me for the next few hours, and during most of it we were left alone. We were both shattered and kept dozing in the minutes between the contractions, where I would need to hold hubby and just grit my teeth for trying not to scream.
Inside I was feeling anxious, time was moving slow, my pains were getting worse, I didn’t know what was happening to my baby, and I  didn’t know why I was still in that exam room.
After a couple of hours me and hubby were chatting about life, about everything, even having a giggle here and there, and it was nice to just talk. Lol little did I know it was probably our last conversation for many moons to come.
He went and got a couple of sandwiches and we ate, I felt drained by the past couple of days and needed energy.
I was wondering how Tookh was and what he was thinking.
By 3pm the contractions were just coming stronger and harder and Karen moved me into a proper labour room. At this point hubby had left the room for a few minutes and one of the no nonsense doctors came in. After an internal, I was told I was to have my ‘hind’ waters broken for me as they hadn’t done so. The instrument used looked like a long knitting needle, and looking back I am glad the doctor showed no mercy, because if he had faffed around taking ages it would have been far worse. If only Hubby could have heard me howl when this took place…

My arm was then hooked up to a drip for anti-biotics, this was because my waters had broken and it had been over 24 hours, so there was a higher risk of infection for the baby.

Karen’s shift ended (much to our relief) and two angelic midwives; Lindsay and Sharon floated in. They smiled at me kindly, and tried to give me gas and air which I had to stop as it made me want to wretch.
I couldn’t take the pain anymore, it was continual, and I knew I had gone way beyond my threshold. This pain seared through me, leaving me unable to breathe. I felt as though it was ripping me apart afresh each time and I wanted to cry but didn’t have the energy.
I cannot describe exactly what a contraction feels like but I will try. It’s basically a pain which comes in what I can only describe as waves, it begins gradually for a couple of seconds, but then just washes over you, pulling you under, and in those moments you can neither think nor reason. The pain just engulfs you. The main bulk of the pain is very similar to a huge band wrapped around the middle of your body and it just gets tighter and tighter squeezing the life out of your back, tummy and bottom. I remember just wanting to say so much and not being able to. I had planned on praying something short but even that was trapped inside my head. The only thing I was saying involuntarily was hubby’s name over and over, and because I was only using a shortened version of his name (not that it’s long) it was worth only one syllable of air.
At many points I wanted to cry so badly but I couldn’t, simply because I didn’t have the energy, the contractions were taking it all.
I recall saying to hubby at one point, ‘I want to go home, take me home’, and Lindsay smiling and saying how hard it would be to get me to the car.
Ridiculous I know, but I had had enough.
in my mind I was a little girl again, I felt vulnerable and lost, and I wanted to be better.
They offered me an epidural and I knew I had to have one.
By the time the anaesthetists came I was writhing about, and could barely hold still for them to inject my spine.
I hadn’t intended on having an epidural, but I knew I couldn’t last without one.
I found it so hard to keep still, I had to sit on the side of the bed, and curl my back over so they could inject it into me. I wanted to scream and scream and scream. I couldn’t keep still, and I had to hold on to Lindsay. I remember banging my legs against the metal frame of the bed in anger and despair; I thought if I had pain elsewhere it would alleviate the contraction pain. Hubby gently told me not to and I stopped.
After about 20 minutes which seemed like 20 years I felt the epidural begin to work. Relief flooded my body and mind and at that moment I was in love with my epidural. It was my best buddy. I looked up lovingly at the drip and just exhaled.
Poor hubby, I think he felt that way too. He looked exhausted and hadn’t left my side except for the odd phone call/prayer.
I fell asleep as hubby watched Bolton play Arsenal.
It was a strange sleep because, in the back of my mind I could faintly hear the noises, but I was somewhere I couldn’t quite reach the outside world. I could hear hubby say it felt like a haunted house, which made the midwives laugh …the woman next door, bless her, was fighting her own battle in labour, and she was wailing very eerily- woooo-ooooo kind of noise, which we could hear through our walls.
When I woke about 40minutes later I was shivering cold, my teeth were going to fall out with the chattering, the midwives found it hilarious.
I felt the pain come back; slowly slowly it began coming and I felt it all in my thigh. Maybe that was one area the epidural hadn’t reached, within minutes it was too much to bear, I was writhing about and I was begging for more epidural.
All in all I wondered how I would get through this. I hadn’t slept for a couple of days and had been in constant pain. I was being monitored and checked, and toga seemed to have stabilised but was moving very slowly down the birth canal.

Again the epidural men came and topped me up.
Relief once more.
Then Lindsay told me I would need a catheter. ‘You what?’ I thought.
Don’t really ill people or old people need those?
I really didn’t want to go through that-it was scary and embarrassing. Lindsay gently told me that if I didn’t have an empty bladder when toga was coming out, it would case a lot of problems and I may end up having a caesarean.
She also told me not be silly as I was embarrassed at the loss of dignity, she said she’d seen it all, and had even had women’s pooh fly in her face…Nice.
Like a frightened child I agreed, and she fitted it in within seconds.
I watched in cold silence, I watched my own urine dripping down a clear tube into a bag which hung from the side of the bed.
I think I felt lowest at this point, looking around my room; the gas and air, the heart monitor, the antibiotics drip, the epidural drip, the catheter…it was too much for me. I felt as though I was in a terrible nightmare, but my eyes wouldn’t open.
I felt as though I would be in there forever. In the back of my mind I had always entertained the possibility of dying.
No I don’t think I was being silly or dramatic, it’s a possibility as any other. Hubby and I had talked about it once, and what he would have to do in the event. But it was a very brief and painful conversation but one which was needed.
I looked at the old man, wondering what the hec I would have done without him. He was there practically all the time, holding me, telling me it was ok, letting me use his arms and hands to squeeze. Apparently at one point I had him in a headlock, and also almost took his fingers off, but I don’t remember it.

It was almost time for the midwives to leave; it was the end o f their shift and I felt sad because I knew Toga was close, and they wouldn’t be there. They both hugged me, and told me they would come and see me the next day to find out what happened. As they floated back out of the room my heart felt a pinch, it was as though two close friends had left me. They had been beyond kind, they had held me, stroked my face, massaged me where I hurt, and had kept me talking and giggling. They had been just as good to Hubby minus the stroking and massaging ;- )

Penny (Penelope) was the next midwife. She was about my mums’ age and seemed a little stern in appearance. I remember thinking I had better be on my best behaviour and suddenly…. I belched loudly. Goodness only knows where that came from, but I looked up horrified with my self and exclaimed ‘excuse me’.
She glanced at me and carried on.
Turns out, Penny was absolutely lovely. But Penny was not messing about. She told me this had gone on long enough for me and the baby, and it was time to get this child out.
She efficiently prepared the room for Perrep’s arrival.

Now because of the epidural, I couldn’t feel the pain of the contractions, but I knew when they were coming because I could feel my heart pump really fast inside.
I was to push as hard as I could each time a contraction came.
Easier said than done.
I remember when Tookh was coming, the midwives were telling me to push and I was thinking,’ but push what????’
There’s no manual in the world that can tell you exactly what to do.

I meant business now. I was exhausted, hubby was exhausted, and I was worried for my baby. How long had he/she been travelling slowly down the birth canal, getting distressed, and on top of it all I was worried about having to have a caesarean. It wasn’t the operation that was the main worry, but the recovery period; I knew I would be totally out of action for 6 weeks and I couldn’t afford that at all.

So I pushed for all I was worth and more than I was worth. Hubby held on to me, like a lion he fought alongside me, and finally, at 9.53pm the baby slid out as Penny gave it a helping hand. I fell back drained. The room turned into some surreal blur; in front of me a baby, Penny was cleaning and sorting, cutting the umbilical cord, another midwife had come in to help, and hubby through many tears was overjoyed, exited and saying ‘it’s a baby, it’s a baby!…’ I smiled and didn’t know quite what to say or think.
I’m glad it was a baby I had been carrying for nine months, and not a pickled onion or something.
Penny spoke up saying ‘it’s a boy!’
I looked ahead at this strange creature, in slow motion my eyes took this profound moment in. A moment which will never leave my heart, in the same way Tookh’s birth has never left my heart.

He had beautiful dark hair, and huge big black eyes. He let out a high pitched cry when he came out, and then went quiet. Penny placed him across my stomach and chest, and he was breathing fast, he seemed exhausted and shocked. He remained quiet as a blanket was place over us…… and finally, finally, finally, the moment came when I held my baby to me.

The Finishing Line

2006-01-27T20:31:00.000Z

Perrep progress.

Weeks 32-36

Perrep is now formed with fully developed lungs. Perrep is gaining about 14 grams of fat each day; Fat ensures that a bay can regulate heat and cold once they leave the controlled environment of the uterus. The fingers and toes have soft nails, which reach right to the end. The hair on thePerrep’s head may be as long as one inch long and is very slippery (to aid the baby’s passage during birth). By week 36, Perrep’s skull is firm but not hard because it will need to compress as Perrep squeezes down the birth canal.
Perrep is about 46 cm (18 inches long) and weighs about 6lb, if this is the first baby the head will soon engage, drop downwards into the upper pelvis in preparation for birth. As I’ve given birth before, Perrep may not engage for several more weeks and maybe not until labour.

Weeks 37-39

Perrep’s nervous system is maturing ready for birth, the lungs aligned with its surfactant which resembles bubbles of foam, this keeps the lungs partially inflated each time Perrep breathes out after he/she is born: Without surfactant the lungs would collapse.

Perrep’s heartbeat is twice as fast as mine, about 110 to 150 beats per minute, hubby can now hear Perrep’s heartbeat by putting his ear to my abdomen. Perrep now weighs approx 7 pounds.

Alhumdulillah Perrep’s head has engaged at around 38 weeks.

Week 40

Perrep’s movements decrease from now on because, there is less space in the uterus for movement, the movements are becoming increasingly difficult to identify, although a sharp kick from Perrep every now and again reminds me that he’s there. When Perrep is awake, his/her eyes are open for lengths of time. Perrep’s intestine is filled with a dark green almost black substance called Meconium, this is a mixture of the secretions from his/her alimentary glands together with lanugo, pigment, and cells from the wall from his or her bowel. It will be the first motion he she will pass after birth, although he/she may pass it during delivery The placenta now measures 20-25cm (8-10 inches) in diameter and is just over 1 inch thick, thus creating a wide area for the exchange of nourishment and waste products between myself and Perrep. There is now more than 1 litre of water in the amniotic sac. Perrep now measures about 51cm (20 inches) and he/she weighs approximately 7lbs 8oz.

I get really worried sometimes when I don’t hear from Perrep for ages. Sometimes even my poking and prodding on my belly doesn’t get the reaction it used to.
However, Perrep seems to have turned into a little slow shifter. my little shifty bottom, which reassures me that he/she is ok insha’Allah.

The Craves.

Well it has been a strange couple of months, all sorts of things going on – with me, with hubby, with the family, with Tookh…..and as they say, ‘such is life…’.

After week 30 I found I was morphing into a being that I wasn’t too familiar with anymore.
For a start, suddenly I had become hostage to anything that pleased my olfactory bulb – that basically means, anything that pleased my sense of smell.
And what pleased madams’ sense of smell?
I tell ya what…exhaust pipes, turpentine, gloss paint, antiseptic, plus anything at all related to motor vehicles.
I know I can hear you all tut tuting at me; most of these things aren’t safe.
Don’t you think of all people I (being eggnant) know that??
Ajeeb, I couldn’t control it, and truth be told I still can’t. I am salivating as I type.
Weekends passed as I begged hubby to take me on an outing to any car garage.
Traffic suddenly smelled so damn good I felt high; glossing a couple of skirting boards at home I was just buzzing; and washing out the brushes after...oh maaaaaaaaaaaaaan…don’t even go there.
At the same time, I also craved sugar free polo’s. Panic sets in if I don’t have any on me, even in the middle of the night.
Usually I hate the petrol stations, but now I love them. Thing is, cos I know how bad they are for me, I can’t do much anyway. It’s not like I can get out and stick the petrol nozzle up my nose just because I suddenly like the smell.
The weirdest one though is this little tub of vapour rub I have. I cannot stop sniffing it. It goes everywhere I go, a bit like Perrep.
The strange thing is that it has to be the one from Asda. The brand Vicks or any other form of the stuff does not interest me in the slightest.
Go figure that one.
I was reading the ingredients and one of them is turpentine oil. I thought ‘Hmmmnn I wonder if it is the same turpentine as in the solution I was using to clean the brushes?’ so I looked it up and found there are two forms of turpentine oil…one is the volatile stuff used for cleaners etc, and the other is the non-volatile stuff used for such things as medicine etc.
No flaming wonder I thought.
Suits me though, a safe way of sniffing all the turps I want. Turp heaven………………

Every room contains a little delight for me. In the bathroom I have a bottle of ‘Meytol’ its like Dettol, but not Dettol. It smells fabulous.
In the kitchen I have my bottle of bleach which I normally use to wipe surfaces down with, so cleaning is just a pleasure right now.
In the store-room I have the paints turpentine, and brushes.
Even the new pushchair for Perrep smells amazing.
I must carry around with me, my vapour rub, and the polo’s – it’s a question of survival….

I have now noticed that as cars drive past, some models and makes smell much better than others. I never knew!

To be truthful I will be glad when this madness leaves me. It’s not the safest of cravings. I don’t mind the polo thing but I think that’s where it ends.
I remember with Tookh I had similar cravings, but the polo’s had to be the sugar ones, and I also needed ice cream and anything icy constantly.

Frumpy, Lumpy and Grumpy.

Let me introduce you to Frumpy.
Frumpy has practically nothing left which fits, save a few outfits. So it’s the same repetitive wardrobe in sequence.
Frumpy feels nothing short of frumpy, and is losing the will to make an effort on many days.
But not a huge problem, this was kinda envisaged. Hopefully it will be all the more fun when the normal wardrobe is eventually dug out again.

Meet Lumpy. She feels just that.
Lumpy is going through an image crisis.
And so what if the rest of the world doesn’t see it? Lumpy does. Lumpy does not feel right, attractive or pleasing to herself and probably to her nearest and closet.
However there’s really nothing to be done, until the big lumpy (bless it) has been delivered. Then for an exercise regime….but even that will be difficult for several months with a newborn baby around.
A bit depressing.
Everything about you changes, to the point you are clumsy and drop everything everywhere, you walk into people, you open doors and cupboards banging them into your stomach because you can’t measure distance anymore.
You look in the mirror and wonder who the hec is staring back at you. Your body is not your own and everything about you has changed, from your shape and size, to the way your skins feels an it’s’ texture. Even though you know that things about you will change, and no matter how many text books warn you of this and that, you wont have a text book reaction to it. Things still shock and surprise you

Finally meet Grumpy.
Grumpy has been feeling this way sometime into the third trimester.
She doesn’t always feel this way, but when she does, she tries to conceal it. Most of the time the reason for feeling down is usually due to pain.

Now that you have met my three alter ego’s, you may get a better jist of how I feel some of the time.
And how many pregnant women feel a lot of the time.

As time has gone on the pregnancy has challenged me with a variation of different problems, and I would be lying if I said any of it has been easy for me Alhumdulillah.
I don’t know whether it is because I am 6 years older now or whether it is just this pregnancy, that I feel extremely tired, and in a lot of pain most of the time.

Hicks or Malix?

I had been getting Braxton hicks contractions for a while (these are basically pretend contractions) but at around 34 weeks, they began coming on much stronger, and with much pain.
So much pain I began to time them in case they were the real thing. But as time has gone on, I have noticed they calm down after a couple of hours or so.

Anyway apparently they have changed their name to the Malix.
Hubby was asking a friend at work if he had heard of them, and he said something like, ‘Heard of them? They’re named after me…’
Ok Mr Malik, if you say so.
I guess I got the Malix then.
Thought the ‘x’ at the end of the word gave it a nice slang twang…

I am also now feeling really tired again.
It is not easy getting to sleep at night, and many times I need to compensate for it during the day. Only thing is I am not someone who can get to sleep easily in the day so I often end up totally mashup.

Other thing about this that is frustrating is that I have incredible urge to be ready now. I want the house organised and clean. I want cupboards and drawers sorted out, I want space for Perrep, I want cots and things set up; I want clothes and nappies at the ready; I just want peace of mind.
What with feeling so constantly tired it’s impossible to get much done in one go. I know Hubby is always offering to do it, but he does enough as it is masha’Allah, and also I want to do it because I know I normally enjoy doing these things. The fact that most of the time I can only do one drawer at a time or whatever really annoys and frustrates me.
I know I am going through my nesting period…makes me feel like a proper bird lol.
I think I need to learn when to stop and wave the white flag.

I’m not one of these people who can chill out and just think ‘oh I’ll do it later’ I simply cannot relax when I know there are things to be done.
I know I need to learn to relax because with a tiny baby on the way there will be many days when I wont be able to get anything done, and I don’t want to get all worked up over it every time.

Another thing I really enjoyed was my time with the Tookhster over the x-mas hols. We didn’t do anything in particular, just spend time together at home, watch things together, draw and read etc. but it was so nice to have him with me, to chat with him, and I found he was satisfied with doing the same. I was a bit worried he may get bored stuck in the house etc, but he was fine.
I had really wanted some quality time with him over the holidays because I knew it would be our last holiday together before Perrep came.
It’s an odd feeling it was almost as though I was going to lose a part of me and Tookh. All this time it has been him alone who has been my baby, he has had my total and whole attention, and my world has revolved around him being safe warm and well. Insha’Allah I pray nothing about that changes, but inevitably the dynamics will have to change, which is not a bad thing either. I want Tookh to be as involved with his baby bro/sis as much as possible. I do think it will insha’Allah do him the world of good.
I didn’t want to let him go back to school, but the nice thing was, that the day after he did go back it was Eid, so I had him and Hubby with me for the day which was fantastic.

Eid was absolutely lovely.
Alhumdulillah.
It was much simpler than the one before and I loved that.
We attended the Masjid again for Eid prayers, and I was blessed enough to hear the most touching and beautiful recitation of Surah Al-Qaf, and a very reflective sermon afterwards.
It lifted us all, and set precedence for the day.
JazzakAllah khayr to the brother who led the prayers, it still resonates in my ears, Alhumdulillah.

One thing that made me sad over the hols was the story of little baby penguin ‘Toga’ being kidnapped.
Some plonker decided to kidnap Toga, and snatched him from his mama and papa whilst he was still a baby. Toga was still on regurgitated food from mama and had not even seen a fish yet. Toga’s survival chances were very slim if he wasn’t returned soon.
He wasn’t returned so only Allah knows what really happened.
This story so touched my heart.
I want to slap the person who nicked him… with my foot.

Anyway Perrep is now very often referred to as Toga. I find it such a cute name.
So Alhumdulillah my Toga is safe and warm inside me.
I go for my ante natal checkups regularly and get to hear the heartbeat, and it lifts and reassures me each time.

I now just want it to be over safely.
I look back and it felt like such a long stretch at the start, and here we are almost at the finishing line.
The last month or more have really tested me. After 33/34 weeks I just felt so fatigued, in so much pain most days. Simple things like walking had become a challenge, and this is coming from the gal who loves walking everywhere.

I found I couldn’t do the simplest things anymore like putting my socks on. Prayers now have to be done on a chair.
My back has been on occasions unbearable. Sciatic pain has not left me, and often I get stuck in some awkward position where moving even an inch makes me catch my breath.
Sleep is now virtually impossible. I cannot lie in position for long at all as it hurts too much – everywhere. Sometimes I dread bedtime because I know it will be hard work and frustrating. I normally awake zombified, and motivate myself only because of Tookh, and the school run.
I take a lot of hot baths to soothe soreness and aches and pains. I have found tea tree oil is amazing. It treats virtually anything and everything. Subhana’Allah.
I have no concentration span, and absolutely no memory. As Hubby says “dense fog” has truly set in.
I cannot now think past having this baby, I feel as though whoever and whatever in terms of outside influences, and stress can wait.
My only goal right now is to sit tight with my family and pray this baby is delivered safely to us. I feel suddenly extremely protective over my family, almost lioness like in my defensiveness.
I don’t know, maybe it is my maternal instincts kicking in…

Weeks 38 and 39 have pushed me to the limits, and I have burst into tears a few times over this period. I keep reminding myself why my body is doing this to me, why sometimes every moment feels like its beating me into the ground. I remind myself of the blessing I have in my womb. I remind myself of insha’Allah a day when I can meet this little creature I so long for.
I remind myself that if my sins are expiated through this, then it is more than worth it, because I know I would rather take it here, may Allah save us all from hellfire.

These thoughts give me the sabr I need.

Through it all, my Hubby and my Tookh have been rocks for me to lean on. They have got on with it, never complained, always making allowances for me, always helping me and accommodating me.
They have been prepared to get their hands dirty and muck in with whatever needs to be done.
I honestly don’t know what I would have done if they were not so good natured, kind and understanding.
Hubby has lifted a huge load for me, taking care of Tookh so much. Hubby has never once frowned even, and has taken the many jobs that we both used to share and just got on with it masha’Allah.
The best thing I can say is JazzakAllah khayr to him.

Not to make them big headed, I will also add that they are a pair of lunatics, and don’t hesitate to make a mess and eat junk at any given opportunity…humph!!

So I can almost see the light at the end … somewhere.

I will keep you posted. At present I am over 40 weeks, and well overdue. For some reason I feel calmer, and so does my body although I am not looking forward to being induced and pray it happens naturally.

Watch and wait with me folks…

Backtracking

2006-01-16T12:26:00.000Z

I am ashamed to say I haven’t blogged in sooo long, I can hardly remember how to do it. I haven’t even had the courtesy of replying to those of you folks who gave me such beautiful comments and duaas, that many had tears rolling down my face. JazzakAllah khayr to you all. Virtual hugs and apologies all round
However I am not a complete imbecile, just a 75% one. I have been making notes using the old fashioned and almost obsolete method of paper and pen, and it’s about time I get them on the pc before I err pop so to speak.

Perrep progress

Weeks 25-27

Perrep is still red and skinny but will soon start to put weight on. The body is growing faster and the bone centres are beginning to harden. The brain cells used for conscious thought now start to mature and he/she begins to be able to remember and learn.
The genitals are differentiated.
Perrep can hear frequencies beyond our range, and will move more in response to higher frequencies than low ones.
Soon Perrep can also learn to recognise his/her father’s voice, so hubby this is the time to practise thinking before speaking ;-)))

Weeks 28-31

A lot of changes take place in the nervous system this month. The brain grows larger to fit inside the skull; it has to fold over and wrinkle up until it resembles a walnut. Brain cells and nerve circuits are fully active.
A fatty sheath begins to form around the nerve fibres, just like the sheath formed earlier around the spinal cord, and this fatty sheath will continue to develop until early adulthood. As a result, nerve impulses can travel faster and Perrep becomes capable of increasingly complex learning and movement.
Perrep starts preparing for birth.
Some fat begins to appear under the skin; the coat of hairy lanugo made diminish to a patch on the back and shoulders. The eyes are now fully formed and eyelids have separated allowing Perrep’s eyes to open. Perrep continues to develop swallowing and sucking skills.
Perrep now has a fully developed breathing rhythm and the air sacs in the lungs start to prepare for the first breathe Perrep will insha’Allah take in the world outside the uterus. Perrep will find there is less room to move about in and will probably wriggle uncomfortably if my body is in a position that does not suit him/her. Perrep passes urine into the amniotic fluid at the rate of about ½ litre (1 pint) every day.

Ok, so here it is from mama
I thought I would be cruising through the middle months, blooming and all that business. But I have (Alhumdulillah) found myself overwhelmingly tired constantly. I don’t feel as sick any more which is a relief, but I still have to take it easy in the mornings.
I get very dizzy, and have to be careful when I am out and about; I think my loafing days are really numbered.
A lot of growing aches and pains are taking place. I have really bad sciatic pain. No one told me I would be turning into an old relic.
I sit or lie down and cannot get up without hubby having to slowly slowly pull me up.
I then stagger around the house as though I am still evolving…..
My legs are cramping real bad at night. It’s awful because suddenly I wake and find some muscle just sticking straight out, away from my leg or thigh. It then refuses to join the rest of my body again, defying me, threatening to just up and leave. I am even getting cramps in my back. However I have found out, that eating nuts are very good in helping to alleviate this problem, so a few a day seem to keep the cramps at a moderate minimal.
The other major thing is that as soon as I hit 30 weeks, I felt a sudden, sharp, stabbing, pressure on my bladder. It comes and goes all the time, and when it does, it is so sharp, it takes the breath out of me. I feel it a lot when I am walking, and I always have to stop till it passes. It happens a lot in the evenings and it feels as though a knife is being jabbed through me. I think Perrep is using it as a water bed…
Having said all that, I do have slightly more energy to do things, so I’m managing to cook, and I get out and about for walks which I know will be good for my stamina.
I have noticed that whereas before I could do loads in one go, I can only get in short bursts these days. So it’s either cooking, or cleaning or whatever. I can’t do it all in one go.
But, I don’t for one second resent these pangs of pregnancy. I am not about to moan knowing I have been blessed with the opportunity to become a mother again. When I write about these things, it’s simply a reminder to myself, and an insight for other people – and not a means to complain. I pray Allah gives me the patience to bear it all, and bear it with dignity. Plus that these pains expiate my sins insha’Allah.

Ramadan

Ramadan came and went.
Hubby had been coaxing me to write an entry for it, but for one reason or another I didn’t.
Either I was busy, or not feeling well, or just plain out of inspiration; ‘bloggers block’.
Not to mention that at the time I was busy reading everybody else’s Ramadan blogs and they were quite insightful, and inspiring into what others make of this blessed month.
Apart from that, these things at the time are often best left to people like Abu Eesa, the top cat of bloggers, who can do such subjects far more justice than most of us can dream of.

The other reason I was out of blog juice, I realised, was the fact that I wasn’t fasting.
I had long been planning on fasting, I couldn’t imagine doing otherwise.

In the past, I had always looked upon Ramadan with a sense of fear and dread. I would see it looming, and wonder how on earth I would ever get through it in one piece. I guess that’s a combination of not understanding why I was fasting, and also the wrong attitude in the run up to it.
I was never forced into it, in fact my folks were not ‘fasters’ so it meant going it alone most years.
Anyhow things changed in recent years, and for the past two years I have actually been enjoying fasting. I have seen it approaching, and instead of trying to hide, welcomed it into my life with open arms.
Much of this is due to me entering Islam, reading and attending talks etc
I finally understood what this means and basically however big or small the sacrifice of food, water, and other of life’s little luxuries, it was only for Allah, so how could you go wrong?
I put my all into fasting, and into everything else involved with making the most of the month.
Yeah it was shattering doing the daily run alone, it was so satisfying. Wasn’t I just one amongst millions in the same position? And are we not blessed that we can actually eat at the end of the day? how many others don’t even have the choice??

Even Eid meant something different after a hard slog over the month. It wasn’t about what it used to be as a child; it was far simpler but held much more significance than ever.

So back to where I was…I had been mooching around trying to plan fasting and how I would cope with it being pregnant and absolutely not up to it.

You see, I didn’t want to think about not fasting because it would be hubby’s and mine first Ramadan together.
After years of waking at dawn alone, and having my porridge and fennel tea alone I finally had someone who would share the moment with me, although I knew he would never go near a breakfast like that, but lol I would make him anything he wanted for the company.

So when hubby pointed out I would not be able to fast - literally, I was gutted. I knew better than to stick up a fuss because I knew he was right… although I did have a little protest and didn’t get anywhere.

So the poor guy fasted alone, and all I could do was wake with him, well actually wake before him, and yank him out of bed.

I thought I could do Ramadan without the fasting, but truth be told, I couldn’t. I felt so despondent and detached from it with everyone else taking part in it actively.
I felt tired, and weak, and that didn’t help either in motivating me to take part in real ibadah rather than the lame bits n bobs I was offering.

As time does nowadays, it sped past and before we knew it, Ramadan had disappeared.
It wasn’t completely wasted, but it wasn’t what I had wanted either.
I didn’t make my annual sin list.
No, not a list of sins I haven’t quite yet achieved (which much to my regret would be a small one) it’s a list of all things I feel I have done wrong over many years.
I start off by thinking back as far as I can from childhood tantrums, to teenage fits and through to adulthood and all the nasties I have managed to achieve quite easily up to now. It’s weird, cos I begin writing, and the things I remember trigger memories, which trigger other memories, and before I know it, I am cringing away, writing with my fuel injected pen steaming away. The list gets longer, the sins vary in diversity, and by the end I am drained, and feel sick at the thought of being such an ingrate and disaster.
So, this year I wasn’t up to it, but I have a sort of imprint of my list from previous years in my head so I kinda knew what I had to ask forgiveness for.
I know I need to have a clean heart for me to even begin rectifying myself, I need to examine how I think and feel and why. My intentions need to be correct and pure and if I can’t achieve that, then my actions certainly wont be.
I don’t want to sit there in the middle of my prayer, lamely asking Allah to ‘forgive all my sins’ without meaning it, without thinking about what I am actually asking forgiveness for.
If ever there is a time to ask, to beg, to be sincere then it is in this month.
How many of us just give prayers the old lip service without the prayer touching our hearts, without it stabbing our souls with fear and hope??
It’s a hard one to achieve, and I for one don’t even know if I have ever got close to it, but Ramadan is the time to get in touch with your soul; examine what it needs to live, to become pure; to benefit yourself and those around you.

When I think about mercy and forgiveness, this hadeeth always comes to my mind;

On the authority of Anas, who said: I heard the messenger of Allah say:

Allah the Almighty has said: "O son of Adam, so long as you call upon Me and ask of Me, I shall forgive you for what you have done, and I shall not mind. O son of Adam, were your sins to reach the clouds of the sky and were you then to ask forgiveness of Me, I would forgive you. O son of Adam, were you to come to Me with sins nearly as great as the earth and were you then to face Me, ascribing no partner to Me, I would bring you forgiveness nearly as great as its."

Related by Al-Tirmithi, who said that it was a good and sound Hadith.

How can that fail to touch your heart?

So, that was that.
Eid came, and the run up to it was really heart warming and exiting.
I wanted a meaningful one. I wanted to go for Eid salaah, something I have never had the opportunity to do.
We went this time together as a family.
I cried all the way through; I had a jimas moment.
Many thoughts and feelings over powered me; the precious feeling of knowing my child and husband were praying in the next room; finally I was praying Eid salaah in the mosque.

It’s one of those days where you do feel a sharp pinch thinking about your lost loved ones, and the patience I get is simply from being able to pray for their souls.

All in all it was a lovely simple day, I saw around me the various people I loved, and a sense of contentment in the eyes of Tookhster and Hubby and I had my belly of ‘Perrepment’ (contentment in baby terms).
What more could we ask for, especially just after the recent earthquake in Pakistan, and all the other challenges people around the globe are faced with.
Alhumdulillah.

Straight after Eid we had visitors, and as lovely as it is to have company and to see long lost relies, this time it knocked the wind out of us. What with Ramadan, Eid, and the ‘eggnancy’ it was very draining. Problem was they only had a couple of days and in that we had to cram in a million and one things. Had it been stretched out over another day or so I’m sure it wouldn’t have felt so taxing ( hubby rolls eyes)
But all in all it wasn’t too bad and I just hope we were good hosts more than anything else.

I think it affected hubby so much, it almost drove him to the brink of dollallyness. On the last night of their stay, as I was getting ready to get into bed he began making strange walky slithery movements around the room and opened his mouth, and out came……………. Gollum.
Yes, there he was slimily hissing towards me calling me his ‘precious’. I stood staring in wonder at the demonic spectacle before me, then had no choice but to erupt in torrents of giggles. I just could not stop.

It is quite a sight, his whole face changes, and his eyeballs jut out huge and round like massive golf balls, and the guy looks quite manically insane. Since then, Gollum has become a regular and consistent part of my life. To add to the team of alter ego’s, Yoda has also decided to join the ‘force’, not to mention the odd visit from Ja-Ja (I think he is called), and even bloomin Churchill the dratted ‘muuuuuu-hooooneyyyhh’ dog from the ads.
I tell you, sometimes the house feels very cramped….

This was not even in the fine print of the nikkah contract, I demand more mahar to compensate…..otherwise an adequate exchange/refund/or at least a full service for the hubby…………………….

Post JIMAS

2005-11-15T11:33:00.000Z

Well, the day after JIMAS is one where you spend the day talking about it non-stop, saying things like, ‘Oh remember when Tookh fell over?’ Or ‘You will never believe who I bumped into…’ etc etc,
It’s a way of being there still, and at the same time a state of denial at being at home again.

Well that day we ended up driving around and finding our way to the beach.
We took the inside routes, and maaan were they complicated.

We stopped at a petrol station for directions, and went off on our merry way after the assistant helped us in her oh so cute and hilarious country bumpkin accent. Bless her she was so sweet.
After about half an hour down the road, being stuck in traffic, taking roads that twist here and suddenly turn there, I got a call on the mobile, telling me I had left my purse behind.
Was I mortified or what?
Me?
I never ever ever do things like that. But guess I do now.
‘Pregnancy fog’ they call it. Apparently...
I apologised to Hubby, who just calmly told me it was cool, and to consider what would have happened had they not bothered to call me or had I dropped it elsewhere etc. The voice of sense as always.
So off we went to go get it.
By this time poor Tookh had had enough of us and went to sleep.
I carried on mentally kicking myself in all sorts of places till we got there.
After I had my hands firmly clenched around my little purse off we went-again.

Finally, finally finally we got there.
As hubby lifted a sleepy Tookh out of the car, I watched Tookhs reaction. He sleepily opened his eyes, and looked around him.
There was sand everywhere and the sea on the horizon. He looked absolutely bewildered but amazed. He’d been dying for this for weeks.

Anyway it turned out to be one of the best days ever. We ate, I had my doughnuts which was all I was bothered about, and then trudged off towards the water; bucket and spades in hand.
Tookh and hubby kicked the ball all the way up while I slowly trudged behind.

I nearly gave up; the sea just seemed to be getting further away the more we walked towards it.

It was half an hour before we finally reached it. Tookh stripped off to his cute li’l undies and Hubby in his cute long shorts, and both went running in.
After that, all you could hear was hysterical giggling and shouting.

I remember watching them both, allowing my eyes and ears to absorb  the sun beginning to set, and my family enjoying themselves acting like complete goofballs.
I just felt immense peace in my heart, and isn’t it strange how it takes such simplicity for that feeling?
You realise in these moments that where others are prepared to turn the earth upside down if they could, trying to attain things such as wealth, partners, children, the little sparkly frills of life, that through it all none of that holds any real value.
Yet this one was a moment invaluable.

Eventually, exhausted after much playing, running around and collecting shells, we headed back towards the car as the sun continued sinking into the sea.

Thank almighty God we took the motorways back towards home and were home in a quarter of the time it had originally taken for us to reach there.

I couldn’t have asked for a better way to wind down after JIMAS. Just what the midwife ordered eh?

The next problem on my plate was maternity clothes.
Until now I have been happily fitting into my normal clothes, but now I only seem to fit into some skirts, a few good stretchy dresses and a pair of combats. The skirts are fine for when it’s hot, but I like my jeans and trousers in the cold weather.
Lately I have been walking around with my combat buttons undone and this ain’t so comfy cos they hang off my ankles on to the floor and through my jilbab I have to keep hitching myself up.

So off me and Tookh go into town for some girly shopping.
Poor little guy, he tolerates this really well.
Could we find any maternity things anywhere? No.
A couple of rails in Dot Perkins and that’s it.
All the trousers everywhere are below the belly.
Now even though I cover, I still do not want to parade my belly around in front of my close family or women friends. I’m preeetty sure they don’t want to see my big blob of baby belly either.
Others may love all that I don’t.
Then we resorted to mothercare.
I found a pair of jean dungarees, and tried them on.
Tookh was quite taken by the fact that Bob the builder wears the same outfit, and gave me the once over several times with fascination.
I wasn’t sure, the whole thing hung off me especially at my belly.
I assured myself I would fill out in to it.

After dragging the manager into the cubicle for her advice, the three of us agreed it was good for a growing bump.

When I showed Hubby he stared at me with this look that said ‘If I don’t say much it might seem as though I like it…’
Hmmmnnn  I wasn’t gonna pull him with this one…

Tookh just came running with his tools and stuffed all my front pockets with hammers, screwdrivers and pens. Bob the pregnant builder.

The next week was spent getting the rest of Tookhs’ uniform.
This year I had wised up and had brought most of it early on.
This was the last of it, the nasty little bits like P.E shorts and Plimsolls.

Tookhs’ first day back was one of hardship for me. Hubby was back at work, and I was missing him and my little Tookh like mad.
I came back home and the house was empty. I didn’t want to even do anything.
Then some neighbours a little way away seemed to be having a domestic; the woman was screaming and crying, and from  my bedroom window I could see things had become very heated. I felt the hairs on my neck rise and this awful cold feeling just flooded me.
I didn’t know what to do. Do I get involved? Do I leave it?
I called the police and waited.
I guess my first thought was for the woman and child in the house. I thought, if it really is nothing then no matter, I just wasted a bit of police time, and to be honest I don’t really care, better to be safe right?
The police apparently stayed with her for ages whilst he had legged it.

The whole day it whirled in my head and put a shadow over me. It bought back some nasty feelings from my own past. I wouldn’t say memories because I don’t want to remember those days, and I do not re-run the scenarios in my mind. I know what happened, but I never want to replay them because they are too much, and make me want to wretch with anger that I actually allowed myself to take all that, and put my family through it too.
But it did bring back those feelings of fear, isolation and desperation.
Made me realise how blessed I am now. Allah took me away from it, and blessed me with something I could only dream of.
Whilst I don’t dwell on it, in a way I would not want to forget it. Whether it was my trial, or punishment, a lot of good came out it, even though I couldn’t see it for the life of me at the time.
It seemed to last forever at the time – those days dragged and turned into the stuff nightmares are made of, but those years now feel like minutes looking back.
I am still not sure how I feel about it all. I try not to allow myself to be bitter, and most of the time I just look back at it with sadness, but a new found strength.
If those dark days taught me anything, it was that God is my only salvation.
You can have as many friends, family and support as possible, but realistically, none of them have the power to help.
Yes people can advise and support, but the only way out is through and by Allah.
I realised that Allah had presented me with this problem (for reasons only He knows best) and only Allah could take it away.
If someone had told me as a little girl I would have to face all this, I would have given up there and then. Yet now I wouldn’t change it. I wouldn’t change what it has led to now.
I am a different person. Much of me toughened up, much of me softened down. I feel far more balanced, far surer of who I am and what I need from my life before I die.
I do think those years were the wake up call I needed. A cold sharp slap from life to make me turn in the right direction. I really pray it has humbled me a teeny bit. It usually takes a fall to bring the sweetness of humility to your being.
I know there are many many people out there now, living in utter misery. With every ounce of conviction I have, I will tell you to turn to your creator, in sincerity. That is the only solution.

Anyway, I have sidetracked big time. A speciality of mine lol.
Even though we had been talking about school and a new year, I am not sure Tookh quite understood what it involved. He had gone in quite nicely though.
Thing is the days that followed he became veeeery unsure, insecure and began crying a lot.
It tore me apart. While it broke my heart to have to leave him in that pitiful way crying and whining like a little puppy, I knew I had to be hard on him and take no emotional blackmail.
Hubby masha’Allah helped so much with all this keeping me strong, and explaining how a little bit of firmness on my part would rid Tookh of his insecurities, and help him in the long run.
It worked, Tookh very quickly realised he was not going to be staying at home forever, and that school was not as bad as he thought.
He knows I am a soft touch when it comes to him, and innocently was playing on it.
Personally I found it traumatic having to hold my tone firm and make it clear that I would wallop him if he didn’t go to school calmly.
I’d pretend to be really tough, take no nonsense etc then as soon as he would go in, I would crumble. I would want to sit down there outside the classroom window, and weep, and wait till the end of the day for him to come out.
But I knew I had to be grown up and drag myself home to get on with the million and one things that were always waiting for me.
This Tookh knows how to pull my heartstrings. I think your children do it from the second they are born. They know how to wrench your heart out with a mere look. You know you would give your arms, legs and anything else needed to keep them safe and healthy.
I tell you though, amazes me how hubby seems to know each time what to do with him, whilst I get myself into a faff over it each time.
He seems to have this ability to see the problem and knows the remedy. He’s such a super-nanny it’s untrue…

The weekend after JIMAS was one I wont forget in a hurry insha’Allah.
It is going to frustrate most of you reading this because I can’t go into it for many reasons. One of them being it really isn’t the right time.
But what happened in brief, was that Tookh did something I had been waiting for.
I had been dreaming of it and hoping for it, yet I never saw it happening.
When he realised his own feelings and acted upon them I initially went numb, but internally thanked Allah. This could only have come from Allah. It has changed the course of things and I don’t know where it leaves us with the future but I need to trust in Allah and leave all my affairs in His hands.
That’s where my faith will be tested.
This issue is one I have always found testing, and I know hubby does too.
Anyway we were so pleased it happened, it was a turning point I think…I hope.
Then we went for a pizza and fudge cake...lol, always good therapy for anything.

If ever my Tookh reads this in years to come, then I hope he understands we want to raise him fi sabi lillah and are desperate for us all to be close for that reason alone;
that we want to protect him, that we love him more than he could ever imagine; and that what he did at this age took guts masha’Allah May Allah protect him and make it easy for him.

Anyway before I get all mushy I will leave it there.
I guess this is one where we will have to watch this space, so to speak.

The other I must talk about, is when we told Tookh.
It was a Saturday afternoon, and Hubby and I both felt it was the right time.
Our moods and emotions were in sync with each other, and it just felt the right moment.
We sat him down on the carpet in front of us, and told him we wanted to talk to him.
Hubby asked him why he thought he had to look after me so much recently, and was being asked to guard mummy all the time. Tookh answered by saying, ‘Because she isn’t well?’
And Hubby and I probed a little further asking why was it he had to be careful not to knock my tummy and be careful around me.
This light went on in Tookh’s eyes, and he said, ‘Because there’s a baby in it?’ and bless his little heart his eyes went red and filled up with tears.
He came over and hugged us, and we both had those same tears in our own eyes.
I never knew how he would take it, but that was the best reaction I could have asked for.
He really felt it, and so did we.
Suddenly within those few minutes I felt so complete. It was a relief, like a burden had been lifted off.
Now I didn’t have to wait till Tookh was out of earshot, or talk on some weird secret language to disguise what I wanted to say about the pregnancy.
Then we talked about what the baby was doing and how and when it would come out… obviously through my belly button innit????

Sweet little innocent questions came our way, but the best bit was when Tookh jumped on me, forcefully yanked my mouth open with both his hands, poked his head into mouth, and shouted down,’ Baby, don’t hurt  Mummy ok?’
LOL.

Perrep Progress

2005-11-15T11:28:00.000Z

Perrep Progress

Week 20-23: By now Perrep should measure approximately 10in or 25cm, and weigh around 9-10oz. the head is still large in proportion to the rest of the body (lol still like dad eh?).
Teeth are beginning to form in the jawbone, and hair is starting to grow.
By this stage Perrep will be covered in an oily layer known as vernix, which is made of fat material and dead skin cells. This acts as a protective coating-a way of waterproofing the skin against the amniotic fluid. This remains present until birth when it helps protect Perrep on the journey down the birth canal and delivery into the outside world.
Most mothers at this stage can feel at the very least, flutterings at this stage.

Gosh, Alhumdulillah I cannot believe the weeks seem to be rolling by, as we count them all upwards.
Like I described earlier, the scan was a precious moment of our lives and one which will always touch my heart, the way it did with my Tookh.
I’m experiencing a lot of sciatic pain which I am told is quite normal but nothing can really be done for it.
I still get a bit dizzy standing for long periods, and need to keep snacking on this or that every hour or so.
The fatigue is still with me, although not like in the first trimester, but generally I am feeling much more tired than I normally would.
I love feeling Perrep move inside me. It is without doubt, the strangest feeling I think a person could possibly feel, but one I just cannot get enough of. I wait all day and night for Perrep ‘to make contact’. It is more than a flutter I feel. At the moment though I can only feel it properly if there is minimal noise and I press on my tummy quite firmly.
Hubby felt it for the first time at JIMAS, and we both found it amazing.
I am now loving tea again, enjoying chocolate again-thank God, and can even have a nice bowl of porridge which I am relieved for.
I honestly cannot believe my taste buds messed up so badly as to deprive me of my favourite things.

Week 24: In most respects Perrep is developed, however the lungs are not capable of functioning fully. Perrep is getting longer but still quite thin. Creases are visible on the palm and fingers, and the skin is red and wrinkled. The fingernails have formed completely by now.
Perrep may be sucking the thumb or hiccupping, and is learning how to co-ordinate sucking and swallowing in preparation for feeding.
The organs of balance inside the ears have developed and will be the same size as an adult’s. Perrep can hear sounds from within and outside and my body from about 21 weeks but probably wont be able to make much sense of these yet.
Perrep has delicate eyelashes and eyebrows and can perceive light through the abdominal wall.
Perrep is now about 13in or 33cm in length, and weighs around 1lb 3oz-1lb 6oz.

The flutterings are getting stronger and Perrep seems to like it when I stretch out at the end of the day, as I feel more movements at these times.
My tummy is rapidly growing and I seem to be having a growth spurt every couple of days.
Not feeling any hiccups though, which I remember with Tookh was so cute…

JIMAS-Blog part 3

2005-10-18T13:23:00.000+01:00

Our last whole day at JIMAS.

It was the same drill as yesterday in terms of getting up and oh yes the delumpscious breakfast welcomed us once again.

Thank goodness, I managed to get Tookh into the crèche without any real hassle, and once he was safely in, I pregnantly pegged it down to the talk.

It was a talk by Shaykh SalimAl-Amry. This man masha’Allah is a speaker who has one of the most animated faces I have ever seen, and is both very charming and kind of captivating. His eyes and smile speak a thousand words before his speech even begins.
The talk was about the life of the grave and the day of resurrection and what would happen on this day. The descriptions were soul shaking, and fear flooded me just listening to him elaborate.
It was explained how man would be punished in the grave for sins such as backbiting, adultery and issues such as not cleaning oneself properly after using the toilet.

We know that the day of qayamah (resurrection) will be established by the blowing of the horn, after which people will come out of their graves. We will be ‘assembled’ back together starting from the coccyx.
A day on which the mountains will be crushed, the oceans will burst forth, and the sun will be folded up, leaving us in darkness.
This is a day on which mankind will be gathered together, sweat flowing like water, with fear; for our deeds to be weighed and counted.

May Allah have mercy upon our souls.

I left that talk feeling as though I was not in my own body or mind.
A lot of us were not new to what we were told, but in that environment, sitting amongst hundreds of others, I felt in awe, I felt scared and I knew I had yet again been reminded of the truth; of my own mortality, and vulnerable existence.

How long would it be I wondered? How long till we are all in our graves.
I think back to my own childhood, look at my existence so far and I feel as though it has been a dream up till now.
As slowly as the hard times have dragged, and as quickly as the laughter has passed, all in all it has come and gone like a dream. So, how will my future pass? I don’t know how long I have been blessed with, but I do assume it will pass in the same motion, i.e. quickly.
Up till now I feel as though I have wasted most of my time. Much of it spent without the deen, and recent years have seen (insha’Allah) Allah guide me towards an existence a bit more sincere, I would like to think. But I know I am still way off the mark.

How long before the day comes we are all resurrected standing before our Lord?

I’m split on this one, whilst the thought of meeting my creator is one which overwhelms me, pulls me, and intrigues me intensely; the thought of having to answer for all my sins scares me beyond belief.
I don’t have enough time to count how many wrongs I have done, and if I have any rights, then, are they even valid? Were they even sincere?
The thought of leaving my family and loved ones is one which is near impossible to contemplate, yet it is inevitable.
I pray I may have done something insha’Allah worthy of Allah’s forgiveness. I pray I meet my Rabb and know I have come home, to His pleasure and mercy, and not to His anger upon me.
I pray that day, is made easy upon us all.

After getting Tookh and heading off to the dinner halls, we made our way back.
Amazingly Tookh got his place at crèche despite the drama’s from yesterday. His little buddy Hashim was in his class today, so Tookh was beaming and in lurrve all over again…
I headed off for another talk, and it was late which meant all the seats and places would be taken, but I found this comfy little spot on a bench right outside one of the halls where I could hear the talk quite well. Thing is, as I nibbled on some chocolate I just couldn’t get into it for the life of me. I sat there for ages before finally wondering off.
The nice thing was that Hubby had wondered out of his talk too, and we met up.
We ended up on the beautiful piece of park outside the crèche cottage. We sat down on the grass, and just talked and talked.
The day was warm, the trees surrounding us were huge, sheltering and magnificent. Brothers, sisters, and families were milling around, or just sitting like us.
Our chat was deep, it allowed us both to unearth parts of our own characters and history that were embedded within.
I realised things I hadn’t been able to face, and confront, and by the end, a torrent of feelings, memories and insecurities had been dug up and bought up to the surface. I felt like one hell of a messed up woman by the end, but in a strange way at the same time clearer and relieved of some weight.

I realised how patient this wonderful man of mine is, and just how much support I get from him.
I really hope he got a chance to get a glimpse inside me, and try figure out why sometimes I am un-comprehendible, un-reachable and confusing.
It was one of those talks, which I know we could not have had anywhere else. The peace that we felt just in a few days, the love from everyone around us, the beauty of our surroundings, the tiny awakening of our souls from the reminders we needed about Islam, …all in all it all contributed to a conversation which clarified much, and helped us see into each others’ hearts a bit more.
The one thing we both realised at the end of it was, that all we wanted was to maintain the closeness to one another, without allowing shaytaan to get a foot in between us in whichever of the many forms he comes in.
For those of you viewers who can’t take this sort of thing, please turn away now for about 5 seconds; Hubby of mine, I love you intensely fi sabi lillah, and I am truly sorry for being such a pain : - )

I went to collect Tookh, and there he was, quietly wedged in between Hashim and Nasra, (the older sister whom I had fallen in love with). They were in a class full of children all concentrating hard on the balls of wool they each had in their hands.
‘Strange’ I thought. I later found out they were making pom poms of all things, lol…in fact Tookh still has to finish his.
Pom poms? I could just imagine Tookh in a little short skirt and tight top dancing around some weirdo football team…
We collected him and headed off to do begin our trips for salah and food.
In the evening I wanted to spend a few minutes grabbing some things for family and friends.
We found a few bits n bobs, but not everything, so I thought I had better try and see if I can finish it the next day before leaving.

It was a lovely evening again, and watching Tookh tonight I was in amazement at his behaviour. He was so immensely close to us, he was so sweet, and far more affectionate than usual, but also there was an air of peace and calm about him.
He was happy doing whatever; he didn’t get upset when we couldn’t find him a lighty up toy like a lot of the other kids had, and his tolerance level generally was so good, masha’Allah.
I honestly think the environment had a deep effect on him. He just seemed so happy there, and in love with us and the world. I could have eaten him.
Don’t get me wrong, being his Mama, I could eat him any day of the week, but something totally different was going on with him in those few days... he was talking about Allah more, he was kinder and more reflective.
I realised how much of an impact any given environment has on a person, even an innocent five year old. I knew he felt the same peace in his heart that we did.
We shared something very serene in that time, something that actually touched our souls.

We enjoyed that last evening walking around, watching families like us mooching around and making the most of it. The children seemed to love the evenings, running around with their little toys that were lit up.
Such a sweet atmosphere, it pinched my heart knowing we had to leave but at the same time smile knowing this experience had been a fulfilling one.

Monday morning bought with it an early rise, and packing.
Maaan do I hate packing. I never know what to put where, and what to leave out in case its needed etc. But this time I was trying to be organised, and didn’t do too bad a job.
Boy did I savour the last breakfast…I knew I was gonna miss this big time!

Tookh found Hashim and his family, and gave Hashim a card that he made himself. Oh this was the sweetest love masha’Allah, between two little boys, I was really touched.
As I bent down to say goodbye to Nasra, she put her little arms around my neck and hugged me. This little fiver year old held me tightly for a few seconds, and I thought I was going to burst into tears. My heart was l ready breaking at the thought of going and having to leave such warmth behind.

I found Jawara, a new friend I had made, and said goodbye to her and her lovely family. I was going to miss them.
We finished off the mornings’ duties, and I was heading off to meet hubby and Tookh, when I passed a stall which sold Abaya’s/ jibabs etc. I overheard a woman saying they were suitable for breastfeeding, and I was like, “You what?” I’d never heard of such things and had to check it out.
I found one and lol it had two zips under each breast section of the dress, and you couldn’t even tell they were there. I found it really amusing, and even though I had adamantly declared to Hubby that I would not be buying any more Jilbabs, I just had to get it, and it was only a tenner!

Milling about around there, I vaguely noticed a sister in a niqab looking a bit flustered, scurrying around with clipboard and talking to other sisters.
She then asked who was leaving by coach, and I looked up and said I was
She came rushing over, and told me to be quick, that they were all leaving and were waiting at certain collection points.
She was bless her, very concerned and hurried, while I was gaumlessly chilling around.
She leant forward into my face and asked me in a kind of quiet panic which coach it was, and I looked at her, going “ Errr, Emmm…” and all that came to mind was the picture of the coach, and the word ‘ Bullocks’
Thank goodness I managed to contain myself and didn’t open my big mouth.

Anyway I knew ours wasn’t leaving till after most of the others so I continued chilling along.
Hubby and Tookh meantime had been shopping themselves; ad grabbed a few bits which I was really happy about, because Hubby is not a shopper by himself, so I was really impressed.

I felt deeply sad to be leaving, my heart had become heavy, and I knew this had been a taste of something unique for the four of us.
It had cemented us, and sealed us.
But, at the same time I was happy to be leaving with my family, and going home to a house where we would all be together.

I hadn’t found my perfume I had been looking forward to buying lol, and I had managed to not strangle the savage species who lurked in our corridor trying to destroy our loos, I had the lovely JIMAS halva (as my sane sis served out ;-)), we even saw Chris Rock…well coulda been…
Anyway a lot more happened and it had been a wonderful trip Alhumdulillah.

We had learnt a lot about each other as much as our religion, and had been part of a most beautiful and safe environment.
I couldn’t ask for anything more.

The trip home was lovely, it was funny, and one of the best things for me about it, was watching Tookh sit and play with the older boys who looked after him as though he were their own. Bless their cotton socks.

We were zombified that night and zonked out really early.

Earthquake

2005-10-16T13:13:00.000+01:00

As-salâmu ‘alaykum wa rahmatullâh

I'm sure everyone is aware of the current situation in Pakistan.

For those who want to know the current progress and the situation as it happens from a brother who has travelled to the region in order to help the aid effort, please follow http://islamiblog.blogspot.com/

There is an urgent need for donations, donation details are available on the site. Please donate generously in this blessed month and remember those who have been affected.

So far the site has collected £35,000, which has already been spent, now there is a desperate need for more money.

Please donate from your hearts fi sabi lillah.

I ask you all to forward this mail onto others, and collectively insha'Allah we can help our brothers and sisters in their time of need.

Jazâkumallâho Khayran

Was-salâmu ‘alaykum wa rahmatullâh

JimasBlog Part 2

2005-09-21T20:48:00.000+01:00

Jimas-Blog Part 2

After I had shnoozed the alarms on both our alarms several times, I lay there wondering how on earth hubby was going to make it for fajr (dawn prayer) on time. Then instantly my worries were over; ‘wallop’, his phone, like a lemming possessed, had been vibrating (while the alarm was off yet again), and jumped straight off the bedside cabinet plonking him on the head.
“Oh gosh are you ok?” she says with wifely concern but giggling hysterically inside…it was quite a comical scene at the time….

So, in plenty time, off he toddled to Digby as I headed for the shower. I had to stay and look after sleeping beauty Tookh y’see.
The serenity at that time of the morning is amazing in a totally intense way.
The air is clear and fine when you inhale, and the world seems to stand in silence as the sky makes another of its’ breathtaking transitions from night to day. What a miracle in itself.

1. And by the sun and its brightness;
2. And by the moon as it follows it (the sun);
3. And by the day as it shows up (the sun's) brightness;
4. And by the night as it conceals it (the sun);
5. And by the heaven and Him who built it;
6. And by the earth and Him who spread it,    (91: 1-6)

Now, I gotta tell ya, breakfast at JIMAS has got to be my favourite meal. After hubby had got back from fajr, and I had got Tookh ready, I made us all leave pronto for breakkie.

This I was not going to miss. I love breakfast as it is, but at JIMAS, I just get really exited, and I’m not even sure why.
You go in to the hall, and there are rows of paper rolled out across the hall. On the paper at every 3 foot intervals, there is a ‘clump’ of breakfast comprising of ; a box of crunchy nut flakes; a box of weetabix; a loaf of bread; milk; jam; margarine and a bowl of hard boiled eggs.
So, you take your foamy bowl and cutlery and sit down at a convenient ‘clump’. Usually, there’s about 5/6 per clump. Then you eat, and it is just sooooooo good lol.
Thing is, I can’t figure out why I get such a buzz off this, I just do. I love all that buttering and jamming your bread, and filling your bowl with weetabix etc. for some reason, I could have the same stuff at home and it wouldn’t have the same yummyness.
I don’t think Tookh was as impressed as me, he looked semi conscious most of the way through while I was in my element, but he soon got into it, the two following mornings later.
After a cup of chai that can only be described as the icing on the delumpscious cake, we headed off quickly for the crèche, where a few of the parents had already gathered.

Hubby stood with me in the queue. The crèche is a voluntary service run by a few wonderfully sweet and kind sisters from Manchester. It works on a first come first serve type basis, but they do try and accommodate people who have not had a chance previously, to have a chance the day after.

Alhumdulillah Tookh had got his place and was exited at the three colourful bouncy castles which had been set up. So off we went; me to the sisters’ side of talks, and Hubby to the brothers.

The first was by shaykh Salim Al-Amry. The talk was on the principles of Tawheed i.e the Oneness of Allah, that worship in any form is only to Allah.
An excellent reminder of the importance of this fundamental.  A reminder that feelings such love, fear and all feelings should only be for God, and no-one else. For example, love someone because he/she loves God and lives in accordance to what has been prescribed; to not fear anyone but God.

After lunch it was back at the crèche, and this time the queue turned into something else. Once again we stood waiting.
Hubby then went somewhere, in fact, I can’t remember where…in faaaact, ‘I demand to know where you went????????????? *hands on hips, glaring…*
*clears throat* errr anyway as I was calmly saying, he mooched off, and the queue got longer. Murmurs rife, questions darting about as to whose child had got in that morning and whose hadn’t.
Then a cold wind blew, and the sky turned dark; a heavy and sinister atmosphere cloaked us as terrifying howls began resounding through the trees………
Actually what really happened was, that these murmurs and questions soon turned into a small panic amongst a few of the gaggle of mothers. They were desperate to get their children in, and it looked as though a few of them would do anything to make sure this happened. This then led to a few mothers getting a little over zealous, and a little too aggressive for my liking.
Even though people weren’t going ahead, the line was being pushed forward.

I felt as though I was back on the underground tubes, the only thing missing were peoples’ stinky armpits in my face.

I looked down and Tookh was being barged about and getting squashed between children and Mums. I looked at this scene and thought, “you’re avin a larf”, and bent down to pick him up, which I could just about do at the time. I held on to him as women began shoving in front trying to push their kids forward, trying to catch the attention of the crèche workers ‘advising’ them as to how to do their jobs. Some of them were not being too nice to the other mothers, which I found quite disappointing. Was it really worth losing manners over? May Allah protect us from ourselves.
Alhumdulillah there were other mums who were very calm and patient masha’Allah, and were riding out the storm quietly. Lol I stuck close to them.

JIMAS had provided a place for mums to catch talks, where they could bring children in, in case mothers did have to bring children in, but for some, this issue had become a little bit of a competition.

It turned into a bit of a stampede. And I remember feeling quite flustered. Standing for more than a few minutes in any queue are at present not too easy for me, but this was something else.
Me, my child and some other Mums were being shoved this way and that, and it felt quite horrible.
If I wanted to be hooliganised, I would have gone to watch the scousers play… (watch hubby growl at me)

Alhumdulillah we slowly went through the doors, and Tookh still had his place.

Back to the talks;

This one was about the journey from here to the hereafter, by Shabbir Aly. He spoke of many things including how the soul is taken at the moment of death. How the soul departs from the feet upwards through the mouth, how the Angels will drag out the souls of those who resist. And so the descriptions were elaborated on.
Fascinating stuff, subhana’Allah.

The talks after that were split into two seminars, and you could go to whichever one you wanted.
I ended up in one, where I just had to get one of the chairs which were especially reserved for pregnant or ill people.
I meekly asked for one, and the helpful sister showed me to one. I felt a bit cheeky because my bump was so small compared to a few of the other sisters. However the pressure Perrep was putting on my internal organs was not so small lol.
Anyway it was a hot afternoon, and listening to the speaker, I felt tired, and heavy. So I whipped out one of my vimto lollipops, threw my shoes off and let my backside move to the edge of the seat. There I was, lollipop hanging out of my mouth, legs stretched out, looking like a total slob.
I just couldn’t help it. I almost felt I needed to be in a hole filled string vest, dirty pair of jeans, and a can of err irn bru (hubbies fav tipple) in one hand, the remote in the other, putting the volume higher on the footie….
If any of you know who ‘Onslow’ is, then you will get the picture………

After collecting Tookh, we went back to the room to get refreshed and have a rest. I went to the bathroom only to find the whole damn lock had been prized off and the bathroom was one watery mess. I thought only boys toilets got into states like that? Not that I would know…

Well that was it wasn’t it? My blood began bubbling, and I went back to the room in a fury, the hulk ripping out of me…”you will NOT BELIVE what they have done to the bathroom, have people got no sense? Would they do this in their own homes?...” blah blah blah, she goes off on one. Hubby calmly just said, “Alhumdulillah it was probably just those kids”
And on I raged, till I remembered my bladder was still full, and I went off to hunt a decent toilet, which I found in another corridor.
I came back doing that Dastardly n Muttley thing, y’know where Muttley mutters and moans under his breath.
Please tell me someone remembers wacky races and the spin off?

I had encountered, ‘The Savages’.

This evening whilst in the dinner queue, Hubby and Tookh met a little three year old Somalian boy, called Hashim.
They had both fallen head over heels, or thobes over sandals in luurve with him. When I met the family later I could see why; masha’Allah he and his sisters were adorable. His five year old sister held on to my hand so lovingly as she gave me salaams. Something about this little girl (she was called Nasra)made me want to just scoop her up in  my arms and cuddle her.I was really touched by what I saw.

Evening was set alight with the kids and their little lighty up toys.
Milling around the stalls before bedtime etc was again so much fun. And the tea..oh the tea was just outrageously delicious. In plastic cups, fresh from the barrel thing, add your own milk n sugar, and you’re off and away on wings of ecstasy.
Look, I went off tea for months, and I feel revived again : - ))
Again the atmosphere was beautiful. It was almost that of a different country, it just felt safe, warm, and peaceful.
*sigh*

And so, another days ends, exhausted we all fell in to our sleeping places.

Friday 16th September

2005-09-16T18:24:00.000+01:00

We interrupt this schedule for a Perrep flash.

Today we had our second scan.

Alhumdulillah I didn’t have to drink 17 gallons of water this time, which was a relief in itself. As soon as the nurse squirted the ice cold gel over my belly, and rolled the thingmy jig (it looks like the scanner devices in department stores) over it, I saw Perrep.
Six weeks on, the little blob has masha’Allah grown so much. I just could not believe how well defined Perrep has become, a real little human in there.
Tears just rolled down my face as nurse concentrated on taking measurement after measurement. Freezing the picture on various parts of Perrep, she continued to examine and measure.

This was it I thought. Hubby and I had both discussed the possibility of abnormalities, and we both knew we would ask Allah for patience if anything was the matter. We knew we would have to take whatever we were given; knowing it was from God, and therefore it would be for our own good. There was never even a question of anything even like termination.

It really is a question of Qadr – pre-ordainment. The knowledge that everything in my life has been written and recorded well before my existence is something that gives me great comfort.So, lying there, I just prayed for the best. After ten minutes or so, the nurse smiled and told me everything seemed fine, and she would call hubby and Tookh in to see Perrep.They felt the same as I did. Tookh stared, and hubby was so happy and exited at seeing Perrep so active; little arms and legs kicking up into the sac. As Perreps’ arms reached upwards we could see little fingers.

“So Blessed is Allah, the Best of Creators” (23:14)

I was so happy that Hubby and Tookh could see this, because I know that it must be hard to relate to all this from the outside, and seeing Perrep on the screen somehow made it so much more real for them. And no, we didn’t want to know the sex of Perrep, once again Qadr Allah.

Anyway that was that. I felt I was in a daze, and I could just see Perrep in front of me everywhere. Memories of Tookh came flooding back, the first and second scan, the same elated feeling, the same relief.So, we have just got home, well my parents’ home actually, and I had to share this with you people.

Btw, sorry for the delays between blogs (especially to Tims!), I have been feeling so tired, and very heavy headed lately. I will blog properly soon God willing.

Jimas-Blog Part 1

2005-09-06T20:41:00.000+01:00

Jimas-Blog Part 1:

Friday 27th August 2005.

I hate to say it, but the first thing I actually thought was, “you’re kidding me…” I watched perplexed as the jimas express parked up, with word ‘Bullocks’ written on either side in huge bold letters – gosh too much of a resemblance to the you know what word…
“Great” I thought “I’m going to an Islamic conference in that?”– Then of course we had a childish giggle about it, and that was that.

When the rain clouds (Subhana’Allah) had disappeared I knew we were outa town. Watching quietly as the different shades of green after green, in the form of grass, fields, shrubs and trees passed and passed again. Landscape change after change, all the same repetition yet so different from one scene to the next. My thoughts slowed down and delved deeper as my eyes watched the world pass.
How many thousands had passed on these roads before me? How many thoughts, conversations and interactions had taken place? Who would I be amongst these? Where will I be amongst these? Does it even matter? History, people and the endless questions took me away.
Then I decided to go join hubby and Tookh. Tookh fell asleep on hubby’s lap.
I realised there was this niqabi, who had been talking non stop, quite loudly since boarding. The subject matter was neither interesting, nor sane lol. Hubby by this time was foaming at the mouth, and growling at being subjected to such torture. I think he would have thrown her overboard given the freedom. Good thing I keep him on a leash eh?

We arrived just after midday.
Rolling down that familiar wide main road where the university is situated, I instantly felt a sense of peace and a tingle of excitement. Encased in the huge old trees, with sun trickling through, the university looked as though we had never left it. This year the coach pulled up on the opposite side of the road from last year. Because of construction work, the whole conference was situated on the same side, which totally disorientated me, and I spent the next three days trying to find my bearings…

After collecting our keys, we found our room. It was quite large, bright, and clean. While Tookh and hubby were boyishly checking out the room I frantically set about finding Tookhs’ drawing pad, a pen and some cello tape, and set to work.
A few minutes later and the main task of the trip was completed; the brothers’ bathroom had been safely segregated from the sisters’ bathroom, in true mission impossible style.

If I had known what was in store, I would have made a sign entitled ‘savages’ and found some far faraway bog for these species that were soon to invade, and bewilder me.

I tell ya, nothing beats that first day buzz; people arriving constantly during the course of the day, hauling bags and kids alike as they go; stalls being set up as eager beavers check them out, eyeing up what they want to buy before they get snapped up. Buzz, buzz and more buzz. I love it.

First call of the day was Jumah – the Friday prayer.
I went off to find the sisters’ prayer hall, and as the call for prayer began we gathered to make our rows.

I have no idea what came over me, standing there, snugly wedged between two sisters.
I became totally overcome with emotion.
Suddenly this moment stood still in time while a barrage of thoughts hit me all at once.
I felt the immense beauty of standing with total strangers, yet all of us about to bow down and acknowledge one creator – God.
Looking around, you would have seen all nationalities, all colours, all sizes, yet one common factor bound us eternally.
I also realised that one day after my death I will be standing in front of the same creator, answering for my every internal and external action.
The other realisation that hit me quite hard was that, when I had come here last year, I was in quite a dark place in my mind, and felt lost.
One year on, I find myself standing in the same spot, yet standing in a different spot. Everything around me had changed dramatically. The life I had become accustomed to, had become a shadow. Here I was, blessed with my kindred spirit/soul-mate, my child, and my unborn child. I have my health, my deen, and here I was standing amongst people joined by one aim, one goal.
I felt the shower of blessings upon me, I felt divine mercy, and I felt truly ungrateful, in a way only us humans can be.
I felt my breath taken away by the sheer reality of my thoughts.
That was one Salah (prayer) which went through me, shook me and left me relieved.

“Allah puts no burden on any person beyond what He has given him. Allah will grant after hardship, ease. “(65:7)

Straight after was lunch. The walk to Digby hall was about 10/15 minutes. It was here the rest of the prayers took place and the oh so wonderful JIMAS meals. Masha’Allah they really are a welcome treat. I love the way you get your cute foamy plates and bowls before going in. I love talking to whoever is standing in front or behind, although I have to say some sista’s are not as forth coming, and kinda leave you staring at the brickwork – which by the way is not bad at all. Even Tookh noticed how oldy worldy a lot of the smaller houses/buildings are, and how well it has been maintained.

The JIMAS meals are simple, filling and delicious Alhumdualillah. I guess you will get your share of people who may complain, but hey I challenge anyone to go cook for (approx) three thousand, three times a day and let me know how you do. Get my jist?

Tookh had his first real game of footie today. Loads of little boys who were all still several years older than Tookh came to join in with him and hubby. I watched with a motherly lump in my throat, as my totally uncoordinated five year old made a nuisance of himself. He looked mesmerised, trance like, he was in ecstasy. The other kids although bigger than him were so kind and gentle with my Tookh. Made me realise how even the adab (manners) between Muslim children are so beautiful. Where else would I find a group of young boys, looking after my little one and treating him like their own? Poor Tookh had no idea how football worked, who was on his team or which way he was supposed to be shooting.
If a leg came near him, he just seemed to kick it. Same with the ball, it would just be hoofed in any direction. Just watching him run around like a maniac was hilarious. The moment I will never forget though......picture the scene, a boy in goal rolls the ball to my little Tookh in front of him, and says "here you go little boy, go score" Tookh charging in the wind, eyes wide open and saliva dribbling down his face approached the ball viciously, swung back his right leg and then.....with a mighty kick smashed the ball straight back at the goalkeeper, whacking him under the chin the poor boy slightly dazed couldn't help but break into a fit of giggles. Poor Tookh, talk about getting carried away…

After the introduction talk, (this year the conference was about ‘preparing for the hereafter’) people were milling about in the darkness, weaving in and out of the stalls. Hijabs, jilabas and thobes; children’s toys and games; henna painting; beautiful little gift books to give to your loved ones; sarnies and sweet pastries; chocolates; perfumes (which by the way, I didn’t manage to find the little glass bottle of deliciously scented perfume oil I was looking for) Islamic books, and information about charities, finance etc….

It’s a beautiful feeling milling about saying Assalaamu’alaykum (peace be unto you) to all that approach or giving the return answer back. I noticed how much love and peace it creates between people.

After that we all flopped into bed. Me and Tookh in the bed, and Hubby on the floor (where he belongs LOL) onnnnnllly kidding! Hubby was in the sleeping bag, and by fajr had managed to roll under our bed, still wrapped up in the sleeping bag…I tell ya some people don’t know how to sleep.

As tired as I was, the old brain cell wasn’t ready to sleep just yet. My head was too busy thinking about it all. Even though I had physically travelled a few hours, my being had travelled into a different dimension.
Here I was with a few changes of clothes, my Tookh, my Perrep and my husband. In other words, my comfort.
I felt so safe, and a contentment with where I was. I felt as though all the people here were my family, and that I didn’t need much else.
I wished my parents and other people I love were there too and could feel this feeling.
I knew it was only my deen (religion) which could allow me to feel such sweet peace. I thought a bit more (yeah just a teeny bit more) about …death of all things, happy little soul that I am. No seriously, I did. The knowledge that sooner rather than later I will die shook me. I believe this is something I and all of us need to remember all the time to keep our feet on the ground and keep some perspective.
Then I zonked out.

Hot water and towels

2005-08-22T19:03:00.000+01:00

Safety pins, flip flops, loo rolls, hair bobbles, porridge…think, THINK, what else do I need?
Am I packing my overnight maternity bag? Nah, not five months early - if that’s the case you all may as well start boiling pan loads of water and get the bundles of towels ready. I never did figure out why they do that in the movies. My brother reckons it’s to distract the men and keep them busy while the woman gets on with the real work ;-)

Anywaaaay, back to my list. It is for the JIMAS conference (check it out www.jimas.org) which folks is less than a week away. Take a deep breath through your nose, and you will smell the sweet fragrance of peace and tranquillity in the form of JIMAS.

Last year I embarked upon my maiden voyage on board the ‘JIMAS express’ feeling very exited and curious after the hype I had heard. So off I went, Tookh under my arm, and sleeping bag in tow.

What followed bought in its path an almost tangible sense of peace, calm and safety. From the talks; to the novelty of leaving my room unlocked; to the beautiful surroundings; to the funny hubble bubble of the longest food queues; to the quirky little market stalls, it was a breath of pure fresh air. Boy did I need it. Prior to going, I felt as though as I was suffocating. I had lost momentum, and felt lost. Allah bought me respite in the best way.

Tookh loved it, he loved the atmosphere, he loved the crèche, and the whole environment Alhumdulillah. I think it did him a lot of good too. He also recognised me in a niqab (a veil for the face). I tried it for the first time and found I could wear it there and feel at home, and enjoy it. While I occasionally wear it, I don’t wear it permanently, so somewhere like JIMAS is the perfect place to be able to wear one.

I remember one evening, standing outside in the cool warmth, staring at the moon. In its serene enormity it left me in awe. I remember feeling so safe, as though I were in a different dimension altogether. I wondered if a moment like that would ever come again.

It was coming home that was gut wrenching. I wasn’t prepared for what it would do to me. It wasn’t till the day was done, I was back home, and put my overtired Tookh to bed, that I realised it was just me and my empty home devoid of noise and the completion it needed. The following few days were hard, to say the least. After almost four days being surrounded by such kind, gentle pleasant Muslim brothers and sisters, I felt very alone.

I guess looking back, it was more than a conference; it was education, dawah, a break, and a refuge. It was a crucial time in which I could recharge the ole brain cell, and think about what I needed, which direction I was heading for, and question my progress.

This time I am armed. I have safety pins (which I always manage to lose) for my hijabs, a few cents put aside for some nice perfume oil I saw and snorted last time, but didn’t have enough money left to buy - only for your benefit though hubby dear ;-). As part of my arsenal, I’m also taking snacks and munchies, lots of toiletries and general conveniences like my Hawaiian crunch muesli…

So, on the Perrep front as he prepares for his first JIMAS, things are Alhumdulillah well.
I feel Perrep flutter inside me from time to time, but only if it’s quiet, and I concentrate. I feel a lot less sick, and the bump is beginning to protrude through my jilbab (Islamic dress) when the wind blows against me.

I’m sure Tookh knows subconsciously and probably won’t blink when we tell him insha’Allah. He knows to be careful around me, and has been given instructions from hubby to pre-emptively attack if he sees me doing anything strenuous. Masha’Allah he is my little sweetpea and I know how much he has been aching for a sibling. We’ve had a journey me and this Tookh hand in hand, may Allah bless him with all that is good.

Perrep Progress:

Week 16: Perrep has grown to about 6 inches in length and weighs about 3 ½ oz. Perrep is able to move around a great deal, although it is difficult to feel these movements at present.

There is a growth of fine hair, known as lanugo, all over Perrep’s body.

The placenta is now completely developed.

Oh man, I had my first cup of tea very hesitantly this week. We stopped at a café whilst shopping, and my bro brought me a cuppa. I’m a known tea-aholic, but went right off the stuff three months ago. Anyway, I didn’t wretch at the sight of it, and while it didn’t taste as wonderful as it usually did, it was passable.
Woohoo, slowly but surely tea will insha’Allah be an integral part of my life once more…

Week 17: Perrep now weighs about 5 oz and the reproductive organs are fully formed. Perrep passes water containing waste products every 40-45 minutes. A lot of this passes through my placenta, and into my circulation. This is excreted through urine and sweat.

No wonder I have to get up to go the bathroom all the time.
Alhumdulillah I feel I have some energy now and my emotional state seems to be back to normal too. Looking back, I have often felt weary, sensitive or just plain angry on a few occasions for no apparent reason. The difficult part is trying to keep it under wraps and not fly into some hulkish tantrum at everyone. I guess you will have to ask poor hubby how I did on that score.
Oh, and hubby, don’t get too comfy, hormones will rage again at the end, muhahaa.

Weeks 18-19: Perrep now weighs 11oz, between now and the 20th week I may become more aware of Perrep’s movements. Perrep can move quite freely within the amniotic sac, and is lying in salt water which gives extra buoyancy. The wall of my uterus is springy, so Perrep can push against it and bounce off it.

Lol I want to have a go. Sounds like proper fun. Perrep is on a funky little ride called ‘The Womb’. Imagine something like that at Alton Towers…ok maybe not.

Developmental stages of Perrep:

2005-08-14T23:05:00.000+01:00

First trimester

Fertilization; It takes four days for the fertilized egg to make its way to the uterus.

Week 2: The fertilized egg divides repeatedly until it is a mass of 150 cells arranged in two sections. The outer sac will develop into the placenta and amniotic sac, while the inner sac will become the Perrep. This is now known as the blastocyst, which attaches itself to the uterus lining.

I staggered like a drunk into an Oxfam shop in the city, and asked the poor woman behind the counter for a carrier bag. Then I staggered around the shop trying to distract myself of the sick and dizzy feeling swirling in my head. My friend who was with me was half amused and half bewildered at my utter ‘weirdness’…

Week 3: The inner cells are in three layers. The outer layer will become Perrep’s skin and nerves; the middle one will be the muscles, heart and skeleton; and the inner one develops into other organs.

I am feeling sick on and off, and feel generally tired a lot. Can’t keep up the gym as I manically did until a couple of weeks back.

Week 4: The embryo begins to take shape, its brain and spinal cord begins to develop, and its heart is beating. It is attached to the placenta by a tiny stalk, which will develop into the umbilical cord.

Like I told you before, I did the pregnancy test in the morning. I waited till Hubby came home and somehow managed to keep shtum until we had put the Tookh to bed. I remember sitting on the bed talking to Hubby about the strange week we had just had. Then typically me, I started giggling. Thing is folks, when I get nervous, very often i giggle uncontrollably - and this was one of those moments. Problem was I was so overwhelmed that I didn't whether to laugh or cry, and the giggles took precedence. Now, thank God I wasn't laughing hysterically; it was more of a quiet nervous giggle that could have erupted out of control if I hadn't have blurted out, 'we're pregnant'. Because I was giggling I was asked whether I was joking. I said I wasn't, and that's when the laughter turned to tears. That then was the real me, and we just held each other both in shock, and joy. Alhumdulillah, all praises to Allah

.Week 5: The embryo more than doubles in size, the heart has only two chambers rather than the four - which develop in a week or so.

We are trying to be very cautious by taking it one day at a time. Anything can happen at anytime and whatever happens I don't want to be in a state of euphoria without considering the realities.

We don’t want to tell Tookh yet, firstly because of the fact that anything can happen, and secondly, two hours to a five year old is simply forever, so imagine telling him to wait nine months. Lol noooo way.

Week 6: During this week Perrep’s head forms, rapidly followed by the chest and abdominal cavities. Its rudimentary brain is completed. Circulation is beginning to function, the stomach is forming, the kidneys are maturing and the liver has grown so that it almost fills the entire abdominal cavity. It is also in the sixth week, that the baby’s face starts to take shape; the embryo is now incredibly ten thousand times larger than the fertilized cell from which it originated.

I’m now preparing for serious lactation, and that area of my body is sore beyond belief.

Week 7: Buds that forms arms and legs are apparent.

I am feeling very sick now; I don’t have energy for anything at all. Everything hurts…everything. I can’t sleep properly because of the pain and sickness.

Week 8: Internal organs are now formed, although they will continue to mature.

I cannot stand the smell of anything spicy. Onions and garlic need to be made illegal. Class A spices. Poor Tookh and Hubby will simply have to eat jacket potato and fish fingers for the rest of eternity. I never want to see a curry again. The sick feeling I have is all consuming. I cannot sit most of the time let alone stand. I can’t keep up with house work or doing homework with Tookh, and Hubby of mine bless his cotton socks is doing so much of it for me. It’s a weird sensation, and reminiscent of when I was carrying Tookh. My head swims all the time, and the sickness burn in the pit of my stomach but seems to transcend my whole body. I can’t stand the thought of food, but seem to need a little bit every hour. I normally hate fizzy drinks but feel addicted to Pepsi (diet) as it just takes a bit of the sickness away. I cannot articulate thoughts let alone speech. It is making me feel very emotionally low. For the first time since getting married I feel so helpless and as though I am depriving my husband and son of attention that they need even though they smile through it, and look after me. I feel so happy at being pregnant and yet I feel depressed. I am quite active and generally pack in a lot during the day. Right now I can only try and reserve energy for when my two boys come home and I know it isn’t adequate.

Weeks 10-11: Fingers and toes are forming, but are still joined by webs of skin. Facial features are more distinct.

I feel like a very old can of pilchards that fell behind the shelf 27 million years ago. See below.

Weeks 12-13: The external genitals have formed and Perrep measures about three inches in length. Perrep is moving, although you will not yet be able to feel this.

These past few weeks I feel particularly bad Alhumdulillah. I have absolutely run out of energy and feel sick to the point I just don’t want to spend any time awake. I feel isolated from everyone and in need of company. I never begrudge my little Perrep, and I feel grateful for what I am feeling. I know it is something millions would kill for. Patience is the key. I need to dig in to my emergency reserves right now..

Second trimester begins:

Week 14: The face is more developed, with the facial features more recognisable. As Perrep develops more muscle tissue he moves more vigorously within the amniotic sac. Perrep’s head is very large compared to the rest of the body (that’s when I tell people it looks like its Dad). By now it will be one third of his whole length.

I am feeling a little better day by day. I can amazingly face spice again, but am still off the tea and porridge (wonder-foods normally)

Week 15: Perrep is now a recognisable human being, but not yet capable of independent life. Perrep weighs about 80g (2 ¾ oz) and is 10cm (4 inches) long.

The scan was wonderful Subhana’Allah and seems to have boosted me no end. Hubby and I watched in absolute awe as our little blob bounced around in front of us. Wonder what my Mum did back in the day when technology hadn’t quite made its advance in this area. I still feel tired, sick and dizzy but it’s more intermittent now. Much to people's dismay, I have begun speaking again ;-)

"And indeed We created man out of an extract of clay (water and earth)Thereafter We made him as a nutfah (mixed drops of male and female discharge) in a safe lodging (womb of the mother)Then We made the nutfah into a clot ( a piece of coagulated blood), then We made the clot into a little lump of flesh, then We made that little lump of flesh bones, then We clothed the bones with flesh and then We bought it forth as another creation. So blessed is Allah, the best of Creators." Al-Mu’minun:(23- 12-14)

You’re now up to date with Perrep’s development; now, like a reality show you can ride the wave with me from here on.

Subhana’Allah. From the very start the whole process of development in itself is a miracle. From nothing a child is created, a soul is bought into the world. Something that was written way before your existence - or mine.

How amazing that even as its mother I have no control over it. I cannot do anything for it. Allah has blessed me with the gift of being able to be a mother, and having the honour of carrying a baby, feeling it grow in me, but only Allah is sustaining this foetus inside me.

Here we are, individuals and nations rushing around our sporadic interactions with each other, and the rest of what the planet holds, deluding ourselves we have some sort of control over what we do and what happens to us...how arrogant, and how ungrateful.

I can’t imagine or think back to when I was a growing foetus. I had no control then, and I have come to realise I never really have since either. My achievements, my successes are all due to my creator; my failures are a product of my own doing. Simple as:

“Whatever of good reaches you, is from Allah, but whatever of evil befalls you, is from yourself” An Nisa (4:79)

I know I have been given all the necessary tools, and it’s up to me how I use them. So now, Bob the mama builder needs to get building.

What am I building? I guess a firm foundation for myself and my family to be able to withstand the torrent of evil that hits us as soon we step out of the front door. I need a shield, and I know it can only be built by us, the parents. It is our responsibility to arm and protect our children. I pray that this Perrep inside of me is blessed with a righteous soul, good character, and good health.

I pray just as hard we are just parents to this soul. Otherwise what is the point? As parents we have one of the toughest and most gruelling jobs ever known to man. It is physically and mentally exhausting as many of you parents will have experienced. But we owe our children. We owe them love, safety, and comfort (roof, food etc). We also owe them a chance for the hereafter. To teach them manners, honesty, compassion, piety; a total and complete understanding of the deen and most importantly; of Allah.

How painful would it be to invest such toil, pure unconditional love and sweat into your child for it to grow up and not just be ungrateful to you, but to be ungrateful to its Lord. The mere thought of it is unbearable.

So May Allah make it easy on us, in a world within which it seems to be getting harder to make our voices heard, and keep our hearts aligned to what is right.

2005-08-06T12:15:00.001+01:00

Here goes…

My first time ever blogging, and I don’t think anything else would have or could have prompted me into blogging. I mean there’s enough of you at it, but I thought, ‘hey I do have something to talk about ( as always my folks would vouch for) and it will be as much for me and my family as anyone else who wants to have a peruse.

So enter folks at your peril into a world where you will be introduced to stretch marks, emotional tantrums, breast pumps, immature outbursts, savoy cabbages and such likes……that’s just my other half.

So, I find myself 15 weeks pregnant.
Alhumdulillah (all praises to God).

Suffice to say I am over the moon, earth, sun, every star and planet out there…even the new one they just found………….
We just had our first scan, I know a little late, but maybe better because we got to see the li’l blob slightly more developed than we would have at 12 weeks. There he/she (‘Perrep’ we have named the foetus) was, floating around, heart beating, ribs showing, our blessing and miracle from the Almighty.

It all started a loooong time ago (15 weeks to be exact). The egg was invaded and conquered; and the sickness, fatigue and my jelly brainess immediately began. I however thought I had caught some school ground virus type thing from my 5 year old, and was a confused thayng for a while
Then whilst putting away the ironing and watching E.R, my back erupted with intense pain jolting my body upwards and forwards. I lay on the floor in paralytic pain.

It continued after the ‘took’ ( took pron: two k. derived from “Lord of the Rings”, a name I refer to my 5 year old, as he is the size of a hobbit and eats like one) and the hubby were home. I found out that often the pregnancy hormone can loosen ligaments, causing back problems. ‘Aha ! ‘ I thought in full miss Marple mood, hopeful suspicion barricaded my mind…

I put my suspicion away till morn. After ‘happy’ and ‘dozy’ had merrily whistled their ways to school and work, I conducted my maniac scientist home test.
I waited more than the minute on the box, deluding myself I was calm and collected. I looked at it chanting in my head that whatever Allah willed would be fine.

POSITIVE!!!

Full of shock I sat back wondering whether I was real, never mind the test.

A trip to the doctors an hour later, the doc grunted, gruffed and growled at me, and off I went home in the same daze I had left house in.
I went to sleep. Hey I am pregnant now, so I’m allowed to okay?

So, that’s how it started, and in between then and now I have felt (Alhumdulillah) sick, dizzy, tired to the point of just silliness, fed up, hormonal - a la di da word for just total loss of control over brain to mouth connection. Basically I have immense fatigue, I haven’t had energy to do anything, and probably to the delight of the old man, I’ve not even had the inclination to make conversation, not any that is coherent anyway.

I felt Perrep move on the last day of the 14th week. It was truly wonderful...it was a quick movement and too low down for it to be gas or my usual digestive moochings.
Pity I couldn’t fully explain to Hubby, I guess it’s something that has to be felt to be understood.

I’m sure I can feel Perrep sticking out of my tummy at night when I have my irritable bowels. The poor little blob gets shoved and pushed outwards so much I can feel this lump jutting out…and it aint harf uncomfy. I guess it’s probably worse for Perrep. Sowee baby, it’s those nasty refined flour, sugars, in those lovely biscuits and yummies…………