“First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Ameena with a baby carriage.” Sound familiar? I’m sure more and more of you can relate than ever before. Every woman who becomes pregnant is at a 15-20% risk of having a miscarriage in the first 7 weeks.

In the Pakistani community, it is almost tradition for random relatives to approach the bride the day of the Walima and begin planning her baby shower. Giggles and cheers can be heard from the “aunties table.” I remember most of the clothes I received always had room to grow. This set the bar pretty high and I knew exactly what was expected of me.

My husband and I had different plans. We wanted to enjoy our time as newlyweds and were in no rush to start a family. A year and a half into our marriage, I became pregnant. It was the most magical time ever. I had morning sickness, which progressed to afternoon and evening sickness pretty quickly. We impatiently waited for our first ultrasound. As I laid on the table waiting to hear a heartbeat, my heart sank. The doctor had this blank look on her face and my heart sank even further. She informed us that I had miscarried at 7.5 weeks and told us of our options. At that very moment I felt regret. I began to blame myself in every way I knew. If only I didn’t travel. I should have rested more. I should have done this, and I shouldn’t have done that. And the excuses began to roll around in my head.

Before I knew it, we had been married for 5 years and I had 6 miscarriages under my belt. You would think that with every heartbreak, experiencing the same pain over and over again, it would become easier… but it didn’t. Each D&C (the surgical procedure carried out after a first-trimester miscarriage) left its scars of weakness and pain. I was left feeling empty and a failure. What sort of a woman can’t have children? It must be my fault. I’ve failed at life. That was when the depression kicked in.

I began turning to Allah subhanahu wa ta`ala (exalted is He). I considered myself a ‘moderate’ Muslim. I tried my best to perform the five daily prayers, I wore hijab (the head scarf), and tried to have good character. I was determined to better my relationship with Allah (swt). After all, it was only He who could grant me anything in this life. He could just say, ”Be” and it would. I begged Allah with everything I had to say, “Be.”

My husband and I started throwing around the idea of adoption. We discussed it with family and were told to remain patient and that Allah (swt) would bless us with a pious offspring and that this was just a part of our test. You know how everyone has something… right? The difference was, I knew in my heart that Allah (swt) was pushing me towards something greater. I was convinced that I was going to be a mother and that my child would go on to do amazing things.

A few months later, my mother-in-law was on a trip to Pakistan. While visiting her sister, she heard of a woman who worked at the house of someone they knew. She was expecting her next child. They discussed how hard it must be for her struggling with 6 kids and working during her third trimester. A few days later, the woman gave birth to a girl. The relative of this woman had taken the child and given it to a brothel. (Are you just as shocked as I was?) The mother pleaded to her employer, stating she did not want to keep the baby, but wanted her to go to a good family, who in turn discussed it with my in-laws. Soon everyone became involved. Long story short, the baby was rescued and taken home.

We received a phone call from my mother-in-law very early in the morning saying she had seen a baby and fallen in love. She asked us if we wanted to be the parents. Now when I think about it, I must have asked her to repeat herself over and over. As I held the phone dazed and confused, I heard the smallest, sweetest, cutest, most adorable cries. They were literally music to my ears. Without a thought or care in the world, we agreed! We were officially parents. AlhamduliLlah (praise be to God).

We started filling out paperwork and having our home study for the adoption done. After all, we wanted to bring our princess home. I quickly began researching ways to nurse the baby. I knew I had to; I felt she deserved that much. I also wanted to make sure we weren’t faced with mahram issues. When a woman becomes the child’s rida`a mother (milk- or breastfeeding-mother), everything concerning blood mahrams applies here: rida`a father/mother, rida`a sister/brother, rida`a aunt/uncle, and so on. In English, these can be translated to “milk-brother,” “milk-mother,” and so on. I was on hormones and pumping around the clock.

About two months after the amazing news, my husband and I traveled to Pakistan to finally meet our princess. I will never forget the drive home from the airport. Every single breath had led me to her. Every tear had paved a road to meet her. Every time I felt like less of a woman, Allah’s plan was in motion. Finally, He had said, “Be!” and there we were. I walked into the room where my mother-in-law sat holding her granddaughter. She had been caring for her for the past two months. (May Allah (swt) grant her the highest level of Jannah [paradise] for her unconditional love and support. Ameen.) I sat next to her, and she handed her to me and softly uttered the words, “Meet your mommy.” It sent chills down my spine. I sat staring at her and tears began to roll. My entire life had suddenly fallen into place. I passed her to my husband and he began to cry. His tiny princess had finally arrived. We named her Sara.

I picked up on motherhood very quickly. I was doing fine with little or no sleep and I had a good, steady milk supply. I also soon learned that she wasn’t very fond of sleep. I spent many nights walking with her up and down the hall soothing her tiny tummy. Two weeks after, my husband had to get back to work and left. My mother-in-law left, too. I was in Pakistan with Sara and a huge extended family consisting of in-laws and relatives with whom I had been out of touch for 20+ years. I was scrutinized for not being content with Allah’s will. I felt as though I had to prove to them that I was worthy of motherhood. There are many struggles a new mother comes across and it’s okay to ask for help, but that was not the case for me. For me, asking for help felt like defeat. I felt like it was Sara and me against them.

Along this path there have also been many relatives who have encouraged and supported my decision. They offered a shoulder to cry on and advice. May Allah (swt) reward them with His infinite Mercy. I was always pretending to be okay, even though I was beginning to break without my husband there. The heat and power outages didn’t help either. The political situation in Pakistan over the last few years had really taken a toll on everyone residing there. I wasn’t allowed to drive. I also wasn’t allowed to leave without someone to accompany me. I craved the independence I grew up with. I dreamt of just driving away with Sara in the backseat. Months passed as I waited to hear news of soon being able to take Sara home.

The long periods of time apart began to break down the relationship between me and my husband. He was living alone, craving family, and I was living with too many people, craving silence and peace. Soon, the phone calls became shorter and shorter. It became less and less about missing one another and more about our case. Eventually, the calls turned into brief messages.

Finally, after 8 months of living in Pakistan without my husband or immediate family, we got an appointment with the U.S. Embassy. My husband came and we were convinced he would take us home with him. This was the first time we were together since he had left. I felt distanced. We didn’t just pick up where we had left off. The physical miles between us had become emotional. It wasn’t about love, because that was unconditional. We knew things would go back to normal soon after being able to take Sara home.

At our interview we were told they would review our case and keep us updated. My husband left and once again, I was alone. The depression that had consumed me just a little while back crept in and began to fill my heart again. Why did I have to choose between my husband and Sara?

I spent the next 6 months trying to keep it together. One day my husband called with the news that our case had been denied. Sara would not be able to get a visa to come to the U.S. This was heart-breaking. My husband and I had spent our entire lives in America. Everyone and everything familiar was there. We felt as though we had been kicked out of our own country for attempting to give a child a better life. We were confused and upset. Our relatives didn’t waste much time before they started pointing fingers again. To them, it was my fault for pushing this decision upon my husband. I began having anxiety and the blame game started. Some suggested we leave Sara and adopt another who would qualify for a visa. I was outraged! Why was this an option? I had battle wounds just like any other mother. Why does biology take importance over motherhood?

A few months passed before my husband could wrap up what was left of our lives in America and move to Pakistan. Right after Sara’s second birthday we were reunited as a family. Everything felt new. My husband and I spent a lot of time learning to be together, learning to give and take, learning our likes and dislikes. We both had experienced the hardest time in our lives and there was nothing either of us could do to help the other. It has been a work in progress. AlhamduliLah. We got our own place and began to build our family unit. I finally unpacked our things after having lived out of a suitcase for the last 2 years. I finally had drawers and a place to hang my clothes. It’s amazing how much ‘stuff’ we think we need. It definitely puts this dunya (world) in perspective.

Allah (swt) had brought us together, but we had no income. My husband had a few business ventures that were unsuccessful. Again, the anxiety surfaced. We felt like we had been torn from our ‘first’-world country and thrown into this ‘third’-world country, where nothing seemed to make sense or work. I prayed for everything to calm down. I prayed for Allah (swt) to bestow His Mercy upon our lives. I prayed for the best of the world and the hereafter. I prayed for Allah (swt) to open the doors of rizq (providence). Subhan’Allah (glory to God), He is the Best of Planners.

As of two months ago, we are officially a family and UAE residents. We now have a place we can call home. Sara is 3.5 years old and masha’Allah (what God wills), she is the light of our lives. She has this way about her, this twinkle in her eyes, this way that she lights up a room, this magic that only she knows. Subhan’Allah, only He creates such miracles. The depression still manages to surface now and then when I least expect it. I guess at this point I have learned to deal with my abandonment issues in a healthier way. There are countless lessons I’ve learned from the last few years. It’s amazing how sometimes the people we least expect sneak into our hearts and become family. Blood does not define kinship. Nothing lasts forever, neither the good, nor the bad. Every heartbreak, every bump in the road, every single tear is not wasted. Allah is As-Sami`—the All-Hearing. He is Al-Basir—the All-Seeing.

By Omar Ead

Come closer. It’s so plain, it could pass you by without realization; so dear, you could take it for granted; so intimate, you may only recognize it if you surrender your entire being.  “…We are closer to him than [his] jugular vein”(Qur’an 50:16).  If you want to understand you must listen, with a heart undistracted, attentive, and directed at Him. “…And remember your Lord much…” (Qur’an 3:41)

When Yusuf alayhi as-salaam (peace be upon him) was cast out of his father’s home by his own brothers, he was ordained to grow up in the palace of the King.  As he grew older, the wife of the King developed a lingering passion for Yusuf and tried luring him into her arms.  She even tried to use force. Yusuf too was attracted to her, but his heart was always focused, always attentive, and he never allowed it to become preoccupied with the pleasures of dunya (worldly life). “And let not your eyes pass beyond them, desiring adornments of the worldly life…” (Qur’an 18:28). His heart was always present, and entirely focused. He never viewed the moment as an end, but always as a means; a means to a great reason, a means to an ultimate moment, and an ultimate day.

Today, we hear the phrase “live for the moment” used often, but somewhere along the way, it turned into a term justifying the lower nature of man.  The moments that the pious saints and figures from east and west spoke of in the past, were moments that brought about greater purpose, far outweighing the mere moments of the lower self.  It was this clear understanding that led Yusuf (as) to make the right decision at a very tempting point in time. “…and he would have inclined to her had he not seen the proof of his Lord” (Qur’an 12:24). As a matter of fact, one of Prophet Yusuf’s most well-known and documented attributes was his insight and ability to interpret the signs of Allah subhanahu wa ta`ala (glorified is He). His dreams foreshadowed his fate and the revelation that came to him saved an entire nation from the onslaught of a major famine.  His heart was filled with the Oneness of God. Prophet Yusuf (as) knew his circumstances and those around him were never simply a coincidence. He knew that every situation, every thought, and every feeling was connected to something much greater—the will of The only existing Truth—Al Haqq.

Many of us search for His signs hoping He will guide us, yet we remain lost.  There may be moments when we witness His absolute infinite wealth of guidance (tawfiq) and blessings, still most of the time we persist in a world of emptiness and neediness. We search endlessly for His messages. But if God were to answer your call, would you know it?  Would you heed His guidance? Is it possible that you are repeatedly shown signs, and dismiss them as simple coincidences?

Understanding His will and receiving His call requires closeness (taqwa).  It requires a tearing of the veil between you and Him.  It requires a love and intimacy so powerful and so consuming, that only the vessel of one’s heart can carry this one love.  The great poet said:

“Gamble everything for love. If you are a true human being. If not, leave this gathering. Half-heartedness doesn’t reach into majesty. You set out to find God, but then you keep stopping for long periods at mean-spirited roadhouses. Don’t wait any longer. Dive in the ocean, leave and let the sea be you. Silent, absent, walking an empty road, all praise.” (Rumi)

If we desire His guidance, it’s critical that we first learn how to fill our hearts with Him alone. This is a condition expressed in the Qur’an. “Indeed, within the heavens and earth are signs for the believers,”(Qur’an 45:3). This verse refers to the mu’min (believer).  The root of the word mu’min is  (ا م ن ). This root has many interpretations but some of these interpretations encompass the following:

• Tranquility triggered by a strong sense of faith
• Being present, in the higher dimensions of a moment, without expectations
• Emptying one’s heart from everything except for the trust one instills in Allah (swt)

Allah (swt) tells us that paying heed to His signs is the benefit, indeed the essence, of being a mu’min.  Nothing is real outside of Him, and if we are able to fill our heart with this reality, if all circumstances and all conditions become a manifestation of His will in our eyes, than His guidance will come regardless of how heavy or complex our affairs may seem.  “For indeed, with hardship [will be] ease.” (Qur’an 94:5)

Believing in the Oneness of God’s purpose and design is critical to the way we view the events that take place in our lives. This is especially true if we desire His guidance. Ibn Qayyim radiAllahu `anhu (may God be pleased with him) in his book Madarij as-Salikeen discusses guidance as being a primary benefit in achieving a true internal state of tawheed (Oneness of God).  The states are articulated in four stages:

1. Tawba (Repentance): Ibn Qayyim suggests that in order to achieve the greatest and most insightful state, one must start with a constant (and never ending) state of tawba (repentance), and recognize the heart’s thirst to seek the truth. It’s through the deep thirst for truth that light enters one”s heart. And once light enters the heart, seeking the Source becomes a deeply rooted cause within the individual.
2. Awakening Level (Fikra): This is the level of thinking and pondering.  In this early stage, the heart starts to stare in the direction it wants to go in and after recognizing, it desires a wakeful state. In this phase the heart starts to understand and distinguish truth from falsehood.  It starts to determine what is good and what is bad.
3. Bassera (A light in the heart):  Bassera becomes a form of revelation for the mu’min.  Bassera is very powerful, because it places ferasa (insight) in the heart and it makes the believer aware of the good and evil in life. It removes all forms of shock in dunya.  It helps one ease the need to set expectations. In this state, the believer is aware of what others can’t see or understand.
4. Azim (Determination):  The ultimate by-product and fruit of the previous stages lead to Azim.  To reach this state a mu’min must set a qada (goal).  The goal must be a path towards God.  Once you have ferasa (insight) the believer is able to set a goal that will lead them on the right path.  Once the goal is set, and one pursues it, his determination increases (Azim). This determination will create a sustaining bias towards action in the believer. He will constantly and without tiring struggle on the path to reach his goal: God.

Of all the states listed by Ibn Qayyim, the most important one is repentance.  Tawba isn’t a phrase we say at the end of each prayer, nor is it just a gesture. Tawba in its deepest sense represents humility and God-consciousness. It means, before doing something, we ask ourselves whether it will bring us closer to Him. It means, every time we incline towards a sin, our heart aches for forgiveness.  It means, loving Him with a sincerity that penetrates the deepest aspects of our wants, desires and hopes, because we can’t have the love of dunya and His love in the same vessel.

So start with tawba.  Let your life become completely consumed by it. It will bring you so much closer to Him, His signs, and His revelation.  Even if you don’t have the chance to reach the higher stages in this life, tawba will protect you, guide you, and reassure you in moments of weakness and in moments of need.  “…ask forgiveness of your Lord and then repent to Him. He will…increase you in strength [added] to your strength.” (Qur’an 11:52)

After enduring the hardships of the dunya (this world) and the horrors of the grave and Last Day, Allah subhanahu wa ta`ala (exalted is He) will bless the believers with something that will make their worries and fears disappear: a safe, secure and everlasting home. A home where they will never endure or even encounter the emotions of fear, sadness, regret, unhappiness and anxiety. A home where their Lord will welcome them by saying, “O My servants, no fear will there be concerning you this Day, nor will you grieve,” (Qur’an, 43:68).

One of Allah’s greatest blessings, in this life and the next, is safety and security. It is an easily forgotten blessing because we are so accustomed to having a safe home and country. As we saw with recent events in the Middle East and in London, chaos erupts when the blessing of safety is taken away.

This blessing is even greater in the hereafter, when people will not have a safe haven or someone to protect them. That is why Allah (swt) highlights the quality of safety in Paradise by saying, “Indeed, the righteous will be in a secure place [al-maqam al-ameen],” (Qur’an, 44:51).

The word ameen is from amn, an inclusive word used to describe all types of peace and safety. The dwellers of jannah (paradise) will be safe from all types of diseases, from physical harm and distress, from emotions other than happiness and joy, and from ever leaving Paradise. They will never again suffer physical pain such as headaches, injuries, illnesses, or the pains of menstruation, fatigue, nausea, and exhaustion. They will never again endure mental pain such as depression, sadness, fear, anxiety, heart-break, anger, or envy.

Paradise will be completely free of any harm in any form. Jibreel (Gabriel) `alayhi salaam (peace be upon him) once came to the Prophet ﷺ (peace be upon him) and told him, “O Allah’s Apostle! This is Khadija coming to you with meat soup. When she reaches you, greet her on behalf of her Lord and on my behalf, and give her the glad tidings of a palace in Paradise wherein there will be neither any noise nor any fatigue,” (Bukhari). Jibreel (as) depicted Paradise as a place of rest and peace of mind.

Allah (swt) says about the righteous, “They will call therein for every [kind of] fruit – safe and secure [amineen],” (Qur’an, 44:55). Allah (swt) describes their situation as embodying all aspects of safety—in their bodies, minds and surroundings. Allah (swt) will also bless them with another level of safety mentioned in this verse—the security from lack of food. This verse also means that they will be safe from becoming sick from these foods.  Allah (swt) granted them safety in their surroundings as well as safety in their sustenance. Allah (swt) says, “Indeed, this is Our provision; for it there is no depletion,” (Qur’an, 38:54).

Allah (swt) calls jannah, “a bestowal uninterrupted,” (Qur’an, 11:108). Jannah will be a place of peace of mind—the believers will never have to worry about worrying! Everything from their food to their mental health will be flawless. And the best part of it all? “Nor from it will they [ever] be removed,” (Qur’an 15:48).

The Believers will never leave jannah because they will never die again. Allah (swt) says, “They will not taste death therein except the first death, and He will have protected them from the punishment of Hellfire / As bounty from your Lord. That is what is the great attainment,” (Qur’an, 44:56-57). Death is a terrifying experience, and Allah (swt) will not make the Believers go through it again after they have faced it in the dunya. Allah (swt) said, “I do not hesitate about anything as much as I hesitate about [seizing] the soul of My faithful servant: he hates death and I hate hurting him,” (Bukhari). Death is a constant fear that is always in the back of our minds: When will we leave this earth? How will we leave? What will I go through in the next life? But these questions and fears will never go through the minds of the righteous in Paradise. Allah (swt) protects them from the physical aspect of death as well as the mental distress it brings.

The Believers will say after entering Paradise and grasping the fact that they will never go through any distress, “Praise to Allah who has removed from us [all] sorrow. Indeed, our Lord is Forgiving and Appreciative – He who has settled us in the home of duration out of His bounty. There touches us not in it any fatigue, and there touches us not in it weariness [of mind].” (Qur’an 35:34-35).

Their immediate reaction to learning of their complete safety—not including the physical bounties and pleasure of Paradise—is genuine gratefulness and thanks to their Lord. The Believers specifically call upon Allah (swt) with two of His Beautiful Qualities, Ghafoor (All-Forgiving) and Shakoor (Ever-Appreciative). These two Names capture the gratitude of the Believers in this moment—for their Lord has forgiven their sins and overlooked their wrongdoings, while appreciating their good deeds by blessing them with a gift beyond their imagination. As believers we experience the Mercy of Allah (swt) in this worldly life, but we hope to be of those who experience the full extent of their Lord’s Infinite Mercy and Compassion in the hereafter.

If we remembered our Akhirah, would our lives be the same?
Would our interactions change?
Would we wallow in our pain?

If we remembered our Akhirah, Would the petty things matter?
Would our focus be scattered?
Would formalities flatter?

If we remembered our Akhirah, would we sit around bored?
Would we for mercy implore?
Would we fear more our Lord?

If we remembered our Akhirah, would we oppress?
Would we leave our dealings in distress?
Would our faults we confess?

If we remembered our Akhirah, would we avoid touchy issues?
Would our comrades we misuse and accuse?
Would we accept to lose?

If we remembered our Akhirah, would we slander each other?

Would we sigh to our mothers?
Would we our anger smother?

If we remembered our Akhirah, would we stress and snap?
Would we digress or interact?
Would we progress or be trapped?

If we remembered our Akhirah, would we procrastinate?
Would we hate to prostrate?
Would we wait and be late?

If we remembered our Akhirah, would we rest when tired?
Would our desires backfire?
Would we aspire to be admired?

If we remembered our Akhirah, would it all seem unfair?
Would it be rare that we despair?
Would we care and be aware?

If we remembered our Akhirah, would the task seem so daunting?
Would the serious we be taunting?
Would our skills we be flaunting?

If we remembered our Akhirah, would it still seem unimportant?
Would our souls be dormant?
Would we waste a moment?

If we remembered our Akhirah, would our hearts remain hardened?
Would we still refuse to pardon?
Would our values be bargained?

If we remembered our Akhirah, would death seem more real?
Would our souls humble when we kneel?
Would our eyes and ears be sealed?

If we remembered our Akhirah—

If…

—

Akhirah: the life to come after death.