ESRD & I - As God Wills

I was adamant this time. I simply refused to listen to the Number One Specialist then. But God bless his soul. He was the epitome of the word “patience” itself. Far from admonishing me for my outright stubbornness, he admitted that perhaps he was not the best person to advice me, and suggested that I spoke to his colleague. So, immediately I was referred to Dr. Zaki.
Dr. Zaki was as kind and as soft spoken as Doktor Sulaiman (now Datuk?/Tan Sri?). Yet somehow, it was the way he presented the dire consequences of continuing the pregnancy that seemed to make sense to me; or at least made me agree to think and consider what he was telling me. I asked him that I was not the sole decision maker in this whole matter; there was my husband whom I had to consult. To me personally, he would be the ultimate decision maker in all this sorry state of affairs. Dr. Zaki agreed that I should talk things over with my husband, and we made an appointment for the three of us to meet again for a final decision.
Returning home, I struggled with the task of delivering the bad news to my husband. How do I tell my husband that we might possibly have to terminate this pregnancy? I thought long and hard, desperate for an idea on how to relay this sad news to him. Worse still, I simply could not predict his reaction. When I got home, I approached my brother first and told him what the doctors had advised. I knew there was not much he could do to help. But I just needed to share my pain with someone. This was something too heavy for me to bear on my own. I knew my husband would be devastated as well, so I sought my brother out for comfort and strength. I could see from his looks and few words, that, he too was at a loss for words. But I still remember clearly him telling me that my health should come first.
Comforted by my brother’s words, and with whatever strength left in me, I wrote a letter to my husband. I knew I wouldn’t be able to tell him verbally. I told him briefly what the doctors had told me, and I ended my letter saying that I love my child that is growing in me, and that if he chose that I should carry on with this pregnancy, I would; and I meant what I said.
Later that night, when he had read the letter, we talked. He seemed calm enough and suggested that we sought what our faith decrees for matters such as this before we made any decision. His opinion was that whatever Islam decrees, we should stand by that, and God Willing, Allah will help. I agreed; feeling a sense of deep comfort that Allah would know best. Before the scheduled appointment with the doctors, my husband met up with the Muslim scholar and health practitioner Prof Harun Din to ask his expert opinion on what Islam had to say for a case such as ours.
Meanwhile, my baby was growing in me – and one day I felt a strange pulling and tugging inside me. I was worried and wondered if my state of health was affecting him. I recall clearly voicing my concern to my late grandaunt that frequently came to stay.
She said, “There is absolutely nothing wrong with your child. The baby is kicking you from inside.”
Her answer brought mixed feelings to me. All of a sudden I felt this surge of love for my baby; the feeling so overwhelming that my heart felt like bursting. I cradled my tummy; and imagined myself cradling him in the crook of my arms. I knew my baby was a boy. During the last visit to the maternity clinic, the obstetrician had run an ultrasound scan and determined his sex. I smiled to myself. This was a spunky child I had inside me, kicking away from inside his mother’s womb.
And then I sobered up as I remembered the outcome of my husband’s meeting with the Professor. He had informed us that in the Islamic faith, when there are two lives to consider, one alive and one whose life is as yet uncertain (as was my unborn child), it becomes imperative to save the life of the living.
How can I? How can I possibly give up on my baby now? True, his kicks were only just feeble twitches, but to me, I felt he was as much alive in me as I am. I am his mother – no mother would give up on her child. Personally at that point I would rather give up my life, if there is any chance at all that my son would live. My heart was being torn apart. The Professor had told my husband that if God so Wills, there would be other children once I was treated and cured. But if we insisted on my carrying the baby, and should I die, then that would be a life lost and the end of my generation. My husband was satisfied and decided that we would adopt the principles of the second Caliph of Islam, Umar al Khattab, and that was we were succumbing to God’s fate while stepping into another of His Will.
Yet, when I felt my baby moved, I knew that nobody would understand the overwhelming feeling of love that only a pregnant woman can feel. I was willing to die for my son. I am his mother, born or unborn, and all the love there is in my heart and soul was for him, no sacrifice was too great for my first born. How can I give up on my first born? How can I???

(c) norhafizah manaf