Come, Fly With Me

TWENTY NINE

It's not easy to just surrender yourself to Allah and find strength during the hardest time of your life. You don't just wake up one day with the courage to carry on. It comes from somewhere rooted deep within you and signifies the gravest pain, but also the beginning of a fortitude you never even knew you could have.

33 weeks pregnant.

My induction date had been set already for a caesarean section at exactly 36 weeks, when baby would be full term and safe to be delivered. 3 weeks to go. Come on, sweet baby, hang in there, just 3 more weeks and you'll be here, with mummy and daddy, where you belong. It was sad to think that my womb, where babies are usually safest, isn't the safe haven it should be for my baby. It's simply a station, where it hangs on by a thread, relying on my body as a lifeline to stay alive. I was terrified, to say the least, that we wouldn't make it that far, but 3 weeks since the diagnosis and three weeks left to go, I believed with all my might that we'd reach that point. After all, it was only with Allah's help that we made it this far.

We'd prepared everything. The nursery is set up, the bassinet standing in our bedroom, bags packed with little sleepsuits and blankets and postpartum recovery items that I'd need when we go into the hospital. The only thing we were still waiting on is the stroller. Our carseat had already arrived and we are just waiting on the last item we needed. If we made it to the delivery date safely, our baby would be whisked off for immediate surgery and then, InshaAllah, we'd finally be a family, at peace, and we'd take each hurdle as it came. And if we didn't, well, that was the end of our journey.

But for now, it's a waiting game. A constant questioning of whether or not that day will ever come. Waking up every morning not knowing if it'll be the last day with the three of us together.

After weeks of painstaking fear, Ehsaan had decided that it was time we do something to take our minds off our situation. He booked a dinner reservation at a fancy restaurant and we had to be there by six o' clock. I'd woken up this morning with excruciating back pain but I was determined to still go out. Although he thought he was doing this for me, I knew it would do him a world of good - to just be us again, Ehsaan and Aleena.

Ehsaan had bought me a gorgeous dress which flowed beautifully and fitted my bump perfectly. I'd felt huge and unattractive recently, but he wouldn't hear a word of it, always reminding me how beautiful I am not only in his eyes, but in the eyes of everybody too. I'd objected, saying,

"You just feel obliged to say that because I'm your wife" and he just chuckled and kissed me in response, telling me that I was the most beautiful person he'd ever seen and I was never allowed to forget it. The pink gown that he'd got me for tonight made me feel like that again, and I was grateful for his efforts.

We drove to a gorgeous restaurant in Central London and talked and laughed like the days before our worries. We ate a hearty meal which was presented fantastically, then went for an evening stroll by the River Thames, hand in hand. Ehsaan hadn't let me out of his sight recently, constantly worrying for our health, but tonight I could see he was at ease, and it put me at ease too. We went to a famous ice cream shop and we bought the well known rose ice cream cones in our favourite flavours. It was the best evening we'd had in months, and we were truly happy. We were seated on a bench, watching the boats on the river and city life unravel before our eyes, enjoying the silence in each other's presence.

"You know, I can't wait" he said, his alluring voice deep and low. My head moved to look up at him.

"For what?" I replied.

"For her to arrive. The best gift we've ever been blessed with. The gift that keeps on giving, every day we make more memories as the three of us, and despite the hardships, I still am so grateful that Allah gifted us, with her."