Hana

My baby girl. My daughter, my friend waiting for me in Jannah. I don’t if I should to write to you, about you, or about that devastating morning. It seems my heart has already decided as I am addressing you. 

When I used to get frustrated with your brothers  antics, I would say, “this is why I need a girl!”.
Little did I know you were playing inside of me. I would get nervous at the thought of having a girl. Girls are delicate, you need to brush their hair and keep it neat, the tenderness they need is different. I was going to help you learn about the things that make women strong and special. I was going to show you how Allah has honored us and how modesty is elegant. I was going to do mother daughter dates while papa was going to take the boys to play basketball. 

I don’t know what happened. Were you hurting inside of me? When did you leave exactly? I went on Monday to the doctor and you were growing just fine and moving around, wiggling your body. The ultrasound tech said you were an “active baby”.  Wednesday morning you left me. Was I not loving enough to you? Were you sensing my physical misery and decided it was too much for me to bare? I am so so sorry I couldn’t keep you with me. I am broken up in to a million pieces without you. I have never felt such grief. 

I wanted you so badly but I had no sabr. I hope you forgive me and you want me in jannah with you. I want to be with you. I want your dad and brothers with us. I want us to be a family together in jannah.  

How is it over there? Do you get to be close to Ibraheem A.S.? You know your bother’s name is Ibraheem too. I hope you are playing and rolling around giggling. I hope you miss me, but not as much as I miss you. This level of missing hurts. 

You know, I held you, I held you inside of me but I also got to hold you in my hand. I saw your beautiful face, you looked like your bhaiya Azaan and also a bit like your papa. You were a bit translucent but everything was perfectly formed. Your fingers and toes were immaculately formed. Your positioning was so pure and innocent. You had one hand tucked under your neck, with your elbow facing perfectly out. Your other arm was reaching towards your face, with your hand hovering over your face, your palm turned outwards. I saw the lining of your ribs. Subhan Allah, I still marvel at the perfection of your tiny hands and feet, only Allah could have fashioned them so perfectly. 

When you talk to Al Latif, please tell him I love him and I am sincere in my devotion to him and I ask for mercy for my misgivings and apathy. He has promised us to be together. I’ll see you my love, my Hana. 

Love forever and ever,

Mama