A Muslim's Romantic Journey

Chapter 67.

Important Author’s Note: Just to clear the air, I do know what I’m talking about while writing this. I made one blunder last chapter in my sleepy state which I corrected quickly thanks to… Someone… Other than that, I’ve witnessed three births last year and they pretty much went like how I described. And, I have helped/am helping raise a total of 11 children. (They all had honey at birth and their digestive system was FINE! I assure you). A lot of my life revolves around babies so whatever is to come in the story (about raising children) is from reality and something I’m deeply involved in. If you disagree with me, remember: There is more than one way of doing things!

 

Safia’s POV

I’d heard several times that when a baby is born. The instant you see it, hear it and feel it, you forget all your pain. It wasn’t exactly like that. In fact, after the boy, I was still in pain because the girl was on her way. But once I realized my babies were on me, they were out, several emotions overtook me in one go. There was shock, joy, love, fear and most of all, gratitude. I was so grateful they were out and in my arms, sounding very healthy.

Of course the previous feelings and pain wasn’t instantly forgotten. I was planning on telling Yusuf off and laughing at him for being such a useless birthing partner but seeing how happy he was with the babies, I let it slide. During labour, he had more fear on his face than I did.

I hated that they made me walk to the next room for stitching. Why couldn’t they have done it there? Then I had the choice of roughly showering now or later. I wanted to hold the children but I knew my family would be swarming in soon and if I held them again, I wouldn’t let them go.

Although I hadn’t slept all night, I had a great amount of energy after seeing my babies. I couldn’t believe they were mine. I never even planned on having even one child at the age of 21, let alone two. And that too, a boy and a girl at the same time. It was so rare and I made sure I was incredibly grateful to have this opportunity that hardly any young women are blessed with.

“They are not identical!” I argued as Yusuf insisted there was no difference between them.

“I’m not saying they’re identical twins, but they look identical.”

“Hamza, bring the boy here.” I said, holding the girl. We held them next to each other. “Maria has a slightly slimmer nose and thinner lips like yours. The boy has a rounder nose and fuller lips.”

“Like yours?”

“I guess so. But you can’t tell properly because they’re newborns and newborns usually look similar.”

“Can I hold-“

“If you say it one more time Hamza, I’m not letting you hold either of them.” I warned him.

“What’s so bad about that?” Yusuf asked guiltily.

“They’re not objects! They’re babies! Little humans. Human cubs.”

“Human cubs?” Amy asked. I didn’t have a chance to respond before the door opened. I was sitting on the bed which was near the wall where the shower was on the other side so I couldn’t see the door. All I saw was Yusuf sprinting across to room shouting

“Wait!” Then in a more calm voice, he said, “She’s not covered properly. Could you wait outside for two minutes?”

“Why should I wait?” Someone asked. It sounded a lot like Aunt Jerry. I looked at Amy with panic. She was just confused. I handed her the boy and put my hijab on, all the while, thinking of a way to avoid the confrontation. It occurred to me, Yusuf was talking about my hijab which could only mean one thing. Javed was here too.