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Pain, Motherhood, and Martyrdom

We talk a lot about motherhood.

From the physical and mental struggles to be one- for those who have fertility issues-, to the first bouts of nausea; The aches, pain, cramps, the constant hunger yet loss of appetite, the punchbag of a bladder that it becomes, the squishing of our organs and an elbow or knee poking out of our womb, borne with a smile, tears wiped away.

From the first contraction to the last push, from sitting with raw stitches holding skin tissue, to sore, bleeding nipples of the first breastfeeding days. From the sleeplessness to the paranoia of if she sleeps too well.

From the sleepless nights of pregnancy, through the sleepless nights of having an infant, to the sleepless nights of waiting for your child to come home after work, a mom’s duty never ends.

Narrated from Imām as-Sādiq: Every time a woman becomes pregnant, during the whole period of pregnancy she has the status of one who fasts, one who worships during the night, and one who fights for Allah with her life and possessions. And when she is giving birth, Allah grants her so much reward that nobody knows its limit because of its greatness. And when she is giving milk to her child, for every suck of the child, Allah gives her the reward of freeing a slave from the children of Ismā’īl, and when the period of breastfeeding the child is finished, one of the great angels of Allah taps her side and says: “Start your deeds afresh, for Allah has forgiven all your minor sins.”

The teething, the  cranky, the fevers and coughs. The vaccinations, the decisions not to, from choosing schools to choosing homeschooling, from choosing his friends and then watching his behavior patterns after a fun day out, at 5 years of age through 15, maybe even 20.
I hold my son, my life, a piece of my heart, coughing from the depth of his chest. Cleary, he’s in pain. The helplessness of not being able to do anything about it, the guilt of probably not having been careful enough, washes over me, and it just hurts so raw to see him hurting. I can’t bear to see him experience the slightest of discomfort and now wince at it.

And it occurs to me, the amazing awesomeness of motherhood, how precious it is! How we transform once we become a mom. When do we become one, though? A mother isn’t born when a child is, rather a mother is born when she wants to be one- only that, some are blessed early, some late, and some wait till the hereafter.

The hereafter.

I don’t know if this is how people think and feel about every little thing that happens and doesn’t; I relate everything to the hereafter. Every mean word uttered to every physical pain inflicted, the hereafter is our destination, our place of success, in shaa Allah. The only solace and consolation my heart finds to all the attrocities happening lies in the fact, that there will be a Day of Judgement. Allah is watching. He is sufficient.


That’s what I tell myself everytime I see  images of Aleppo that rip my heart.

 
Aisha (may Allah be pleased with her) reported that the Messenger of Allah (pbuh) said, “For any adversity a Muslim suffers, Allah erases some of his sins, even though it may be no more than a thorn pricking him.”

I see an image of a young man crying by the lifeless bodies of his wife, and son who died before he could be born. I see images of a five year old consoling his two year old brother as a fatherly figure. I see a woman refusing to let go of her dead husband, the man who stood by her over thirty years of togetherness. I see a young girl bidding farewell to her fiance whom she dreamed to live a wholesone life with.

No one should have to see their family crumble in front of their eyes. No one should have to bury their child.Watching your child starve, and you being able to do nothing to save him, no one deserves that plight.

Stay strong, oh, oppressed!

YOU will be given compensation, rewards, for going through this, for every bit of pain and suffering, in every waking and sleeping moment. YOU are the winners, the heroes. You may be losing your home, family, life in the dunya, but you will emerge successful, the happiest, the triumphant in the aakhirah. You will reunite with your family and live, laugh, be merry, till eternity. You are the martyrs, you have been promised  better afterlife, in shaa Allah.
“On the Day of Resurrection, when people who have suffered affliction are given their reward, those who are healthy will wish their skins had been cut to pieces with scissors when they were in the world.”

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