#griefinislam

[dearasiyah]

I’m having a really hard time. 365 days ago a piece of my heart went to Jannah. Today marks one year since I delivered our stillborn daughter. There has been so much pain, guilt, anger, regrets, and still so many questions. Over the past weeks, I’ve been avoiding my feelings & trying to stay positive.. but I’m feeling absolutely shattered, especially today.

To my daughter, I thank Allah every day for allowing me to be your mom. My beautiful journey with you went south all of a sudden, and losing you is the hardest thing to accept. There hasn’t been a single day that has went by that I don’t think of you. I’m not entirely who I used to be, but I do have you to also thank for that. Even though the time we spent with you was so short, your dad and I just wanted to do things the right way & to do what was best for you.

And no matter if I experience joy, you are always on my mind and my heart will always have a void. I would give anything to have you back just for a second. I miss you more then words can express, my sweet dear Asiyah.

01.15.22 💜

[dearasiyah]

Welcoming Grief...

Assalamu Alaikum My Dear Readers,

You should know that this is not the blog I ever imagined I would start. This is not the club I ever wanted to join. But this is my life now. I am sad and broken, but I accept that this is what Allah (swt) has wanted for me and my family.

My life as a Muslim, a wife, and a mom has changed forever. I find comfort in listening to other people's stories. Writing and wanting to learn more about my religion has been helping me cope so far. Because for me, in the midst of something deeply painful, reading someone else’s story brings an odd comfort in the sense that I know I'm not alone in my pain.

However, while trying to find comfort in stories and multiple Instagram feeds, I found myself only stumbling across non-Muslim grief journeys; which most resulted in questioning God.

"Why me?"

But if I’m being honest, it hasn't been easy. I do find myself sitting here bombarded by the thought that maybe the reason why Allah took her away from me is because I am not a good Muslim. Subhan'Allah.

I often wonder if maybe I had prayed and read Quran more, turned to my lord when things were good AND bad, thanked Him fully, and just believed more than I do now... maybe the outcome could have been different? But I know that's not the truth. I can't say I'm a great Muslim. I know I'm not perfect, I'm only human. Islam is perfect, but we are not. Deep down in my heart, I know the reason she left this earth isn't because of me.

"Inna Lillahi Wa Inna Ilaihi Raji’oon"

From Allah we came and to Him is our return.

These words sting even harder when you've lost your child. And I'm slowly learning that Islam is a religion of hope. Growing up as Muslims, we are raised and taught that this Dunya is not the end. That there is indeed a reunion in the Hereafter. We're also told that Allah (swt) tells us that tests and trials are a part of life.

Everyone will be tested to a certain extent at times so that Allah (swt) can see which person has true faith in Him. And He presents us with these different situations to see how we react to them.

So with this new grief that I welcome into my life... I know I can't go back in time. I know I can't change things. I know that there isn't anything I could have done more or less. I'm human. I'm weak and I do slip back into those deep negative thoughts at times... but because of my rooted foundation in the belief in Allah, I know that this is my Qadr (fate). I will try my best to continue to trust in Allah and His decree.

“Allah does not burden a soul beyond that which it can bear.” (Qur’an 2:286).

[dearasiyah]

“I’ll never forget that moment when… “ — Missing you a lot these days. Without even looking at the calendar my body just knows that it’ll be the 15th & my mind starts thinking about all the possible outcomes again but with you in it.

[dearasiyah]

I wish she was here.

But by Allah’s will, instead we are here to keep moving forward in this world without her. It’s been hard and messy. Sadness. Happiness. Grief. It’s like trying to put a dinner plate back together after it’s shattered on the floor. You might be able to put all the pieces back as they were. It might look like a dinner plate again, and it might even function like a dinner plate again. But it will never be quite the same as it once was. It’s hard to think past tomorrow & imagine a joyful future again. It’s hard to feel like just your existence makes others uncomfortable. It’s hard to watch people wince & take a half step back from you, as if your baby dying might be contagious. Even still - Allah (swt) has blessed me with a wonderful support system, Alhamdulilah and I couldn’t be more grateful. We’re barely making it & somehow I feel more grateful for my situation because even though it was the worst thing that has happened to us, there’s other families out there who may have it worse. If we’re going through what we’re going through right now— and we didn’t even get to hear our child cry. Imagine parents who lose their baby at 4 months, 6 months, at a year!?

There is no “At least…”

“At least you have have memories and pictures…”

“At least you have other kids at home..”

“At least you’re young… you can have more.”

“At least you got to say goodbye…”

NO. Our pain is our pain. And I used to think that my labor pains were the worst pain I’ve ever experienced in my life, but I think this kind of pain…hits differently.

I’m grateful. I feel blessed. I’m coexisting in a world with grief and joy. I love my living children with all my heart. I love and miss my child who is no longer here with us today. But I feel I wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for Allah (swt) and him being so merciful to me, even though I feel like I haven’t done enough. It’s a learning process. It’s my journey. But Alhamdulilah, Alhamdulilah, Alhamdulilah.

Her name is Asiyah. And as my husband constantly reminds me, “She’s right where she’s supposed to be.”

💜 ℰ𝒾𝒹 ℳ𝓊𝒷𝒶𝓇𝒶𝓀. ℱ𝓇ℴ𝓂 𝓂𝓎 𝒻𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓎 𝓉ℴ 𝓎ℴ𝓊𝓇𝓈.

[dearasiyah]

Ramadan Mubarak, my little one...

Assalamu Alaikum My Dear Readers,

Allah (swt) has blessed us to see another Ramadan, alhamdulilah. For those that are reading that do not know what Ramadan is… It’s the ninth month of the Islamic calendar, observed by Muslims worldwide as a month of fasting, prayer, reflection and community.

This year Ramadan falls in April. April is the month that I thought my daughter would be born. Today would have been her due date. April 10th was her “due date”. I didn’t think that I would be fasting either. I thought our daughter would have been here to celebrate Eid with us. Receiving her first Eid gift, and wearing a first Ramadan/Eid onesie. However, Allah (swt) have different plans for us.

As soon as April 1st hit, I felt the days creeping up on me. I still feel the sensation of the let-down reflex within my chest and I can’t help but miss the thought of me possibly feeding Asiyah right about now while sitting in the hospital, enjoying my first meal after her birth. I feel dark clouds forming above my head every day. Feeling the breakdown waiting to happen. Hovering. Darkness and sadness waiting to consume me from inside out. It’s a crazy unexplainable feeling.. and I never really know how to describe it, but it just feels like I’m waiting for the arrival of my daughter, which I KNOW won’t come.

Am I expecting the impossible as of right now? It’s a strange feeling because even though I know she’s dead, my heart wants to believe she’s STILL alive and here physically but she’s not. And that’s my sad reality. These days I don’t even know how I’m functioning. Sometimes I hate myself for even being able to function without her. I know my life doesn’t revolve around my youngest daughter, but she IS my missing piece. Our missing piece.

However, we made it to april, Asiyah! Even though I dreamed of seeing this month arrive with you in my arms. Only Allah knows what we spoke about privately while you you were in my tummy. I remember constantly rubbing my stomach and telling you to hang in there… “just hang in there bud.” Is what I would tell you and that’s exactly what you did.

I visited you today. I didn't think I'd make it through the day honestly. I miss her scent and her soft filled cheeks. She was born silent, perfect and beautiful, (mashaAllah) still loved. still missed. still remembered everyday. stillborn, but still born. And here I am, still here. still breathing. still mourning. still crying. But I'd do it all again, if it meant I could see you just... one more time.

Sorry, I'm crying while typing this.... It's all over the place.

Alhamdulilah. Alhamdulilah. Alhamdulilah.

I want to welcome this month of Ramadan with all my heart. Taking this time to heal, be with my family, process, reflect, repent, and mostly forgive. My goal is to not be so hard on myself and I’m going to take these days and moments to reflect on my life and my grief that has softened me. The heartache that wisened me. At the suffering that gives me strength. And despite everything — Still learn to grow from it. Thank you for reading. Thank you for reading this far. It was really hard for me to write this.

Ramadan Mubarak,

From Sameer, Azizah, Khadijah, Hamza, and Asiyah.

[dearasiyah]

Assalamu Alaikum My Dear Readers,

This past weekend has been one of the most tiring weekends I’ve dealt with since you left. I decided that I wanted to jump back into my business, Sincerely Azizah, and just go for it. I pushed myself a little, I’ll admit it, but I wasn’t doing anything but being sad at home, so I felt like this would have been the perfect opportunity for me to get back out there.

What people saw on the outside of my first business adventure was me preparing for these pre-Ramadan events, but what they didn’t see was the tears that came along with it. Who would have thought that working could be such a trigger for me? I cried so many times while preparing my products to sell. Not because I didn’t want to do it, but it just reminded me how far along I would’ve been by now. Knowing myself, I most likely wouldn’t be doing this at all if you were still here. You probably would have been the size of a watermelon by now, and I’m sure of that.

During the weekend, a friend of mine came up to me and told me that they pass the cemetery where you are buried every day on their way to work. She told me that she makes Dua for you and us every single time she passes it. She gave me a hug and gave me words of encouragement, which lead to tears. So many people asked me how I’m doing and all I could say is… “As good as I can be…” because that’s the truth.

Another conversation that took place was actually kind of interesting. I wore my lilac hoodie with your name on it. Then a woman asked me if I was a part of this organization that helps Muslim victims of domestic violence find support and shelter. The group's name was Asiyah Women’s Center and they wear the color purple, but I told her that I wasn’t. I told her, “I wear this hoodie for my daughter. She passed away in January.” And at that moment — I was proud that I was able to speak up on your behalf and not feel bad about telling people my daughter died. I can see that she didn’t know what to say afterwards so I reassured her that it was okay and she doesn’t have to say anything. She apologized, but in my head, I didn’t need her to.

Conversations after loss have been so unpredictable. Sometimes It’s awkward, It can be beautiful, or it can be so painful. I’m learning to keep my answers short and simple and make sure to be aware of who I decide to share my story with and when the time is right. I’m learning to live with the fact that not everybody would want to hear my sob story every single time they speak to me. It’s been hard to not bring up my daughter all the time, and I do understand that everything takes time. But these are just a few things that I’m so very conscious about every day since you’ve been gone. So many thoughts flood my brain. Even when I’m not thinking about you, I’m still thinking about you! I don’t know how it makes sense, but the other moms that I’ve met that are going through the same thing, have reassured me that they have these feelings too. My grief and grief, in general, are unexplainable, but I try my best to put them into words to let them out.

I have lost friends, I’ve realized my real ones, but I’ve also made some new ones. And during this grief journey, I’ve specifically developed a new kind of friendship. I will not name this person that I speak of, but if she’s reading this, she knows exactly who she is. She visited my booth to purchase something from me and when we hugged, I immediately started sobbing. A small window of happiness. I felt a connection. I often wonder what you may have been like as a baby, a little girl— Your personality is who I think of; what I might have wished Asiyah would have been like as an adult. So kind, genuine, caring, and beautiful, masha’Allah. Only Allah (swt) knows! It's the feeling of comfort and a sense of security. I can speak my child's name and vent about vulnerable feelings and know that you are just one of the many people that give me a safe space to do so. And I know it sounds so crazy when I type this out —- But only I know what this feeling feels like. You remind me that this world and my grief CAN be beautiful. There’s some kind of bond and sense of comfort that your words and Duas bring into my life.

When I see you, my dear friend, I find patience, love, and remembrance of my daughter. I feel a sense of comfort and a sense of security. I can speak my child's name and vent about vulnerable feelings and know that even though you didn’t even know her, and we didn’t know each other like that prior to her death, I’m in a safe space. You told me that “To love is to feel, sometimes in ways beyond words.”

Your kindness has definitely found a place in my heart as well. But please do not mistake this as a bad reminder or trigger for me. Memories are where our loved ones continue to live after they’re gone; this is why we hold onto objects that remind us of them and go to places where they feel near.

Every time I visit Asiyah’s grave, I think to myself that we truly are just a spec in this world that we know absolutely nothing about. My daughter is gone. I have two amazing beautiful kids at home! But I’m open to letting Nur (light), warmth, and comfort in, to remind my kids that by the will of Allah (swt) Asiyah’s presence will always be around even during these dark times.

I know that in time the “grief triggers” that once will cause us sadness will eventually fill us with a sense of love and an even more remembrance for Allah (swt) — Insha’Allah. I pray that Allah (swt) heals our pain, calms our hearts, and reunites us with our loved ones in the hereafter. Ameen. 💜🦋

[dearasiyah]

Reconnecting Through Grief...

Assalamu Alaikum My Dear Readers,

I’m ashamed. I’m ashamed that it took something traumatic to happen to me so that I can start seeing the beauty that Islam holds. I’m ashamed because I wish that I could have seen it before but without my loss. However, I’m here to tell myself (and you) that it is absolutely okay that it’s the truth. It’s my truth. I see things differently now because the words,

“I’m sorry, we can’t find a heartbeat.” — Will literally NEVER leave you. Those soul-sucking haunting words changed the way I view things now.

After Asiyah had left our hospital room, I couldn’t help but notice the heartbeat monitor sounds from the room next door. I couldn’t help but overhear the conversations of when she would be ready to push. I heard everything. I cried just hearing the sounds of her baby being born and hearing that first cry; wishing it was me. But it wasn’t… and I was happy for her but sad for us.

I asked my husband to play Quran as loud as he could so I could drown out the sounds of happiness, but no matter how loud he played it, It still repeated again and again in my head. I cried so much that I could barely see any more. All I could have done was sleep away the pain. What else could I do, right?

And I guess… this is the beginning of my reconnection with the Quran. I feel like ever since that day, I’ve developed a different appreciation for it. I need to know the meaning of what I’m saying, and why do some cry when they read it? I want to cry when I hear the Quran being played and I want to feel the words of Allah (swt) radiating within me.

A lot of the time we struggle with finding a connection with the Quran because we don’t know what we are reading. From little kids, some of us grow up listening and memorizing Quran but never truly understanding the importance of it all. Someone told me a while ago that if you have a daily relationship with the Quran with understanding, it will change the way you think. It’s not easy. Life gets in the way of course, but as young adults, it’s up to us to WANT to know more. But I’m going to try and take small steps, insha’Allah because it’s really all I have to hold on to.

Allah says in the Quran,

وَلَنَبْلُوَنَّكُم بِشَىْءٍۢ مِّنَ ٱلْخَوْفِ وَٱلْجُوعِ وَنَقْصٍۢ مِّنَ ٱلْأَمْوَٰلِ وَٱلْأَنفُسِ وَٱلثَّمَرَٰتِ ۗ وَبَشِّرِ ٱلصَّـٰبِرِينَ“

And We will surely test you with something of fear and hunger and a loss of wealth and lives and fruits, but give good tidings to the patient.”

No matter what we're looking for, I'm sure the answer is in the Quran. Insha'Allah, my journey of healing... Is through the Quran. May Allah (swt) purify our hearts and our intentions, help us to do what pleases him and may He grant us success in this world and the hereafter.

Ameen. ♥