She Is My Hayaat

Chapter 40: Let's Play Cupid

A happy chapter for all my worried readers. You're welcome. ;)

Each day brought something new for us. It was beautiful, scary, and so exhilarating yet tiring. The appointments were sometimes long and stressful with so much information to absorb and others were short, precise, and to the point. Before we knew it, the weeks passed by before our grateful eyes, and I was three months pregnant. Though I wasn't too fond of the idea of telling more people outside of our immediate family, Ammi suggested that after my first trimester was fully over and well into the second, we should tell the rest of the family especially Dadi jaan.

I was put on a strict diet from the beginning to try and gain weight healthily. I was naturally skinny as my metabolism was fast and because of genetics, but it had its own downfalls. It gave Izhar and Mama a bigger reason to make me eat more than I thought I could put into my stomach. Whenever I felt like I couldn't eat anymore, I tried telling myself that I wasn't just feeding myself, but my little bug as well. In order for the baby to stay healthy, and grow and develop properly, I had to make sure I was feeding two souls and not just one. With a husband like Izhar, it was impossible to skip any meal or snack. I had him at home and his hired recruits: Anam at work, and Mama, Bhabi, Sabr, and Imaan to check up on me whenever.

The morning sickness had been at its peak. If I had thought it was awful during my first pregnancy, then was I terribly wrong. It was difficult to keep anything down in my system for even an hour or two before it came back out, and it didn't help that I was on a strict diet. Each morning consisted of headaches and a turn in my stomach.

Each night as I sat in Sujood, I recalled the awful night that led me to have my miscarriage. In that moment I had immediately lost what felt like the biggest part of me, and when it was gone, I lost a part of myself and my life. Whenever I would pray Isha' and see the illuminating moon protecting me from the big glass balcony doors, I would mutter my Salaam under my breath and pray for it to stay as it was, protecting and shielding me from the undeniable forces that warned me to stay away. I felt like I was walking on ice with the tips of my toes. If I moved too much to either side, then I'd lose my balance and fall, and the ice would slip from underneath me.

When I spent long hours away from Izhar at work and didn't get home till later or when he wasn't here to keep an eye on me, he'd make sure to call and text me several times, just to make sure that we were both okay. My tears in salah were full of adoration, fear, and happiness. What scared me the most was the possibility of the expected at the most unexpected time. There would be nothing left in me if this time took the same turn as the last, and there were no more words and caresses left in the world to tug me back into a new life with an optimistic perspective. Even Izhar wouldn't be able to lure me back if there was another toll of repetition.

My heart was no longer in sync with my brain, and it was beating on a different altitude altogether in rhythm to my soul. I had fully, completely, and wholeheartedly put my life in the hands of Allah, and there was nothing I would do to change anything about it. I was sick and tired of thinking that I had some control and that there was something I could do to change the situations I had faced and would face in the future, but over time I came to know that there was absolutely no ounce of a weight that I could move. Tawakkul Allah (trust and reliance in Allah).

******

I was just about ready to leave when Anam's head made an appearance inside my office. It was tilted to the side while the rest of her body was outside. Her slick dark auburn hair was pulled up into a messy bun, her turquoise scrubs spotless.

"Heading out?" she asked, holding my office door open.

"Yeah. What's up, come inside!" I turned around from my desk where I was already shouldering my purse.