ESRD & I - A Painful Goodbye

My appointment with the O & G was made for the very next day – straight for admission. By 8 am I was already there and was seen by the specialist.
“We will give you something which will cause your uterus to contract to expel the baby,” he explained gently. I remember then asking anxiously, “If the baby comes out alive, you will try to save the baby, wont you?”

The doctor had looked at me long and hard. Then he let out a slow sigh and spoke, “Do you know why you are having this procedure done?”
I simply nodded. He looked at me a moment longer before he spoke again, “Alright, of course. If the baby comes out alive, we will save him.”

(I had heard at that time that in Australia, a 24 week baby had survived premature delivery and sustained in a specialised incubator ; his body rubbed in saffron. Alas, I had only just begun my teaching career and did not have the means to go to Australia).

I was then placed in a 2-bedded room and as soon as my husband left, a nurse came and administered the injection. Almost immediately I felt strange in my tummy and had to lie down. Immediately I felt an intense cold and pulled up my blanket. But I was still shivering. I called the nurse who happened to check in on my roommate and asked for an extra blanket. She returned with a blanket and covered me up but I was still shivering vigorously, so she added another blanket on me. It was then that I felt my baby inside me suddenly turned and tossed so restlessly; almost as if he was writhing in agony, as I suddenly felt the wave of contraction in my uterus. I pushed away at the blankets and looked down my tummy. It was moving in all sorts of directions; which only told me that my baby was in huge discomfort, perhaps even great pain. Immediately tears came rushing down my eyes, as I put my hand over my tummy as if by gently massaging my tummy I could comfort my child inside me. I just couldn’t stop the tears. All I could do was to cradle my tummy and whisper hoarsely, “I am sorry baby. Ummi is so sorry...so sorry...so sorry!” – (taking a pause; too difficult to write this down. The tears are slowly flowing down even now – the memory is too vividly etched in my mind).

The contraction lasted for a short while only; but it seemed like a lifetime. Eventually it slowed down, then stopped, and my baby quietened down. The intense cold I felt earlier disappeared, leaving me utterly exhausted.

What went through my mind at that time? As I dozed off into an exhausted slumber, I gently stroked my baby from the outside and spoke quietly to him, “If you can fight baby, then fight to survive my son; but if it is too difficult, then just let go. I love you so much and I am terribly sorry for doing this to you; causing you so much pain. Please forgive me my son, please forgive me.”

The whole procedure was repeated at around 12 noon and I had to go through the ordeal again. I cried brokenheartedly as I felt my son struggle inside me. But somehow, his movements were not as strong as the first time. The next injection was due around 6 pm.

At around 5 pm my husband came to visit after his office hours. He sat at the edge of the bed near my feet as I told him what had happened. As he leaned closer to hear my account, suddenly a gush of water burst from me splashing onto his shirt. Panicked, he rushed out to alert the nurse. I knew immediately I was in labour, as I suddenly felt the urge to push. A young male doctor, Dr. Amir arrived and helped me with the delivery. I was glad he was understanding and comforting, encouraging me all the way as I sobbed my heart out. The feeling of your very being wrenched out from you, leaves me no recollection at all of the pain of delivery.

And so, on Thursday, 23rd January 1986, at 6.23 pm (12 Jamadil Ula 1406), my first child, whom I named Abdullah bin Zulbahri was born – still and lifeless.

Goodbye Abdullah, my son. Wait for me in heaven InshaAllah. To me you are a martyr – for you have given up your life so that I may live. I just want you to know that your sacrifice have not gone wasted. Your sacrifice have paved the way for your two brothers, Ashraf Ilman and Zakiy Mohsin. They know you so well like you are amongst them when they speak of you; and of how you look – with your very fair skin, and that birth mark on your eye, so exactly like your father’s. When you were brought back to your Atok Manaf’s house, it was your Pak Aral and Mak Mok, my elder brother and sister who bathed you. You were so small and fragile that they had to place you in a vegetable basket and gently drew water over you.

Did you know that the caretaker of the cemetery near our house was kind enough to allot you a space out of sympathy? Everyone loves you Abdullah, and your uncle and aunt kept saying how so much like your father you looked. Your father had told me later that on that night, whilst your Atok Manaf kept vigilant guard over you, he curled up alone on the bed and sobbed his heart out for your loss, hugging his knees to his chest, searching for solace he could not find. And did you know that after I was discharged I went to stay at your Atok Manaf’s home just to be near you? Then one day it rained heavily and I suddenly rushed out of the house and then stopped short when your Pak Aral called, “Adik, where are you going?” Did you know what I said? “Abdullah...he will get wet,” and then I seem to remember. Your Pak Aral just stood and stared when I slowly walked back into the house.

I miss you my son, never a day passes by that I don’t think of you. Every year, I wish you a silent happy birthday on 23rd January. You would be 24 now my son. But its alright, I know you are in good hands. I often dream of you when you were a baby. There was always a fair lady looking after you and guarding you jealously whenever I came to visit you in my dream. So I know you are in good hands.

Dont worry about us Abdullah. Your Ummi is well now, thanks to you. Your brothers are doing fine and they love you dearly. You have another brother 4 years after I lost you, but I had a miscarriage. Your father and I, we both still ache for you, but we will be patient till we meet again one day God Willing. Ummi takes comfort everyday from this hadith of the Prophet:
“Some women requested the Prophet to fix a day for them as the men were taking all his time. On that he promised them one day for religious lessons and commandments. Once during such a lesson the Prophet said, "A woman whose three children die will be shielded by them from the Hell fire." On that a woman asked, "If only two die?" He replied, "Even two (will shield her from the Hell-fire)." ~Sahih Bukhari

(c)norhafizah manaf