Lately, I have been thinking about my upbringing. Youngest of five, whose very birth was a sad occasion. My parents were told that having another child would be very risky. After just having a baby boy the year before, my mom, only 36, was pregnant again with me.
I was breached at birth and my mom went into heart failure. In the first six months after my birth, she had open heart surgery and it was discovered that she has atrial fibrillation. My care as an infant was passed on to different aunts and uncles. Do you know how vital it is for an infant to be with its mother? Extremely.
My father – an immigrant working the graveyard shift to provide for his family. Five year old me and my brother would sleep on either side of my mom when he would go to work. Until one day, things changed.
When laying in bed with her one night, she suddenly fell to the floor, her mouth was foaming, and eyes rolled back until only the white was visible. I yelled and yelled at my brother saying he killed our mom. She had a debilitating stroke.
She did extensive therapy and was about 85% rehabilitated. When I was in middle school, she had another stroke. And then again in high school. A broken clavicle from a fall. And then she had a brain bleed from a fall in college. And then a seizure. Then another seizure. Then pneumonia multiple times. And most recently, a broken ankle. There are so many little things that happened in between, but that is just a rough summary.
I remember once being told by an aunt, at a mere seven years, that I was the cause of all of this. That because of my birth my mother was in this situation and my father was stressed and had to take the part of both parents. IT WAS MY FAULT. My guilt filled my entire heart and I questioned my existence. Was I just a mistake and did I ruin my parents’ life?
I did everything to try to make up for my guilt. I got good grades, I obeyed my parents, I sought their approval, yet, only my brother, who was failing classes and acting up, had their attention. Yet again, I was alone.
I wanted to cry thinking of these things sometimes, but then I remembered Imam Hussein (as) and his family and all of their suffering. I also remembered that Allah gives the toughest tests for the creations he loves most and there will never be a test you cannot bear.
I would resonate with Sakina Bint Hussein (as) and how she saw her father’s head on a platter in front of her. If she can bear something like that, then at least I have my mother and father. I would bargain with myself like that. Imam Hussein (as) was how I would comfort myself. Rather than crying for my problems, I would cry for Imam Hussein (as). He would ground me and keep me sane and on the right path.
I often look at my birth as a miracle, rather than a curse. I look at myself now and know I am capable of so much more. I put so much a lot of effort and pressure on myself to be great and to be better. I don’t want my birth and the things I caused to be for no reason. I am destined for great things and I know that. I just haven’t figured out what it is yet.
And when I meet someone new, I do my best to make them feel good and happy. Because their existence means something. Imam Hussein (a.s) taught me humanity and I try to find ways to be kind and love others the way Allah loves me. I love making people feel special on their birthdays because there is a reason Allah put them on this Earth. And because for so much of my life my birth was more of a burden than anything else.
