Jannah. [SEQUEL TO DAWUD]

Chapter 56: The Gender Reveal

In the name of God, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful

If the time of prayer has been called and you haven't prayed before reading this, please do so.

Author's Note: The formatting is a bit too widespread. I'm not entirely sure why. But I hope you enjoy! Love you all endlessly. (Not the last chapter)

Jannah's P.O.V

I propped up the last of the balloons and smiled. Warsan had just finished explaining to Muna and me what occurred between her and her mother and I couldn't be happier. It caused me to tear up a bit, but I busied myself behind the ballon set up, pretending to fix something. 'That is so special. I hope that you two can get closer with time.' I added. There was a stillness in the room before I realized Warsan walked over to where I stood. She put a hand on my shoulder and pulled me in for a hug. 'And may Allah heal your relationship with your mother, and allow you both to grow closer with time.' She quietly prayed. Muna stood a few meters away from us, crying as well. I gestured for her to come over and we all hugged very tightly. It was amazing to have the support of my friends. I wouldn't know what do to without them.

The entrance door wheezed open and in came the husbands holding boxes of sweets for the party. We wiped away our tears quickly, causing them to hesitate at the door. Dawud looked at me worryingly, matching Akhlaaq and Abdallah's expressions. 'Is this a bad time?' He whispered although everyone could hear him. I chuckled and shook my head.

'It's okay. We were just having a moment.' I ushered them in and directed them to different table setups. We bossed them around for some time, having them do all the heavy-duty work. The girls and I shared a few grins as they followed our commands. Once the items were placed and positioned perfectly, they filed out of the room to give us ladies some more privacy. The party was completely set up.

My sister rented out a small hall for the tiny gathering. It had pastel pink and blue streamers dropping elegantly across the ceilings. Several balloons gathered together to make a bent arch in the centre of the room. The dessert table was lined with cake pops, cupcakes, candy and much more. The cupcakes were piped with the icing colour of the baby's gender. It was either blue for a boy or pink for a girl. I couldn't resist scanning them carefully to see if I could get a hint of colour but I was at a loss. They did an excellent job at hiding the results.

An hour later, the room was packed. The ladies were on one side and the men were on the other. No music, no makeup and no mixing were involved. Just family and friends speaking to one another. A few of us frequented the middle of the room to speak to our family members. I greeted Dawud's father Muhammad, who was sporting a dashing grey suit. It made the faded green in his eyes pop vibrantly. He looked so much healthier than the last time I saw him. And I noted that he didn't only dress for the occasion, but also to impress Qamara, Dawud's mother, who definitely took note of his dashing presence. She visited the dessert table often, eyeing not only the cupcakes but the man she called her husband only a year prior. I hoped that their being in this room together sparked feelings of love and nostalgia between them. I really did. I also spoke to my father, who held my hand nervously without realizing it. He was so excited that it was getting the best of him. He was tripping over his words and sweating from his forehead. He was the cutest little man. Oh, how I loved him.

My mother was having a field day. She was definitely best dressed amongst the women, wearing a loose but sparkling gold Abaya. She repetitively spoke about how she had a feeling the baby would be a boy, how she always wanted to give birth to a boy, and how she was convinced that when she was pregnant with me, I was a boy. I laughed off these comments, not taking them too personally. I think my mom will always see herself as the most important thing in her life and that was her issue to deal with. Not mine. My life, my marriage and my happiness will not be dependant on my mother. I will always pray for her healing though. I did love her after all. Dawud would call me over to meet him in the middle of the room often. He and I were matching outfits for the party. He wore an olive-coloured thobe with a white kuffi and black Timberland boots, and I wore an olive-coloured jilbab with matching boots. He would check in with me from time to time, making sure my mother didn't get to me and making sure I was feeling okay. We would also analyze his parent's behaviour. I think that was the most fun of my conversations. But most importantly, my sister. Mariam was waddling around with her large and swollen belly, greeting her guests and glowing beautifully. She also held my hand multiple times, nervously eyeing the cupcakes in hopes of finding a hint of blue or pink, just as I did. It's funny how similar families are to one another. I told her how proud I was of her, and how much of an amazing mother she would be. We hugged countless times that evening. I loved her beyond words could say.

And then it was time.

One of my sister's friends brought in a tightly secured umbrella and handed it over to me. After explaining what the process would be, I nodded and rushed over to Dawud. The momentous role of being the gender-bearer was too much for me. He understood the assignment I gave him and walked to the centre of the room, under the garland of balloons.

'Assalamu'Alaykum everyone!' His deep and velvet voice called. The room grew quiet immediately. 'So, we have the gender of the baby in this umbrella. Abdallah and Mariam will stand here, hold the umbrella over their heads and pull this string.' He pointed to the orange string, showing everyone carefully. 'Inside is confetti. Blue means a boy, Pink means a girl, and Purple means twins!' The crowd laughed. He was so good at this. My heart throbbed as he spoke. I was feeling such strong sentiments. Qamara held one arm of mine and Warsan and Muna joined me at my right.

Dawud ushered my sister and Abdallah to the centre of the room as we counted down. Mariam was already crying happy tears as Abdallah rubbed her arm. He was jumping up and down excitedly.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

They pulled at the string and pink confetti showered them endlessly. The couple hugged and  I covered my mouth, flushed with an overwhelming amount of excitement and happiness. Warsan and Muna pulled me in for a hug as we all happily cried.

Mariam then made her way over to my father and mother, who all cried tears of happiness. They called for me and I rushed towards them. So much love. So much happiness. I then hugged Dawud, his father and his mother. It all felt amazing. My sister was going to have a baby girl.

I took a moment, in the midst of tears and happiness, to look around the room and see the love that Allah has put in all our hearts. The mercy needed to cause an eruption of tears not for yourself but for someone else. And it reminded me of something. Salman al-Farisi reported: The Messenger of Allah, peace and blessings be upon him, said, "Verily, on the day Allah created the heavens and the earth, He created one hundred parts of mercy. Each part can fill what is between the heavens and the earth. He made one part of mercy for the earth, from which a mother has compassion for her child, animals and birds have compassion for each other. On the Day of Resurrection, He will perfect this mercy." (Sahih Muslim 2753)All praise is due to Allah. The Most Kind. The Most Merciful.