Hamdan
I cannot take my eyes away from them, let alone describe what I'm feeling. It's so much more than love, happiness and admiration put together. It's... it's... I don't know. What I do know is that I'm beyond grateful for my amazingly strong wife and my healthy boy.
After I cut the umbilical cord, Houyem takes our baby from Layla for his first bath and I follow her. He has a head full of dark hair and his feet are not bigger than my thumb. He cries for the first time and the sound takes over the entire bathroom, it is a sound that I will never forget. He seems to relax afterwards and Houyem takes him to our bed to measure him and weigh him.
She goes to grab a diaper and hands it over to me. "Would you like to put his first diaper on?"
I say yes with a bit of hesitation. I can hunt, I can deep dive, I can jump from an airplane, I can speak in front of an audience but yes, a diaper is making me nervous. I unfold it like Layla and I did a few days ago and lift his legs up to put it underneath him.
"Good," Houyem encourages me. "Now over his belly."
I finish my task with a smile on my face. I did it. I know how to put a diaper on. Houyem brings the clothes Layla and I had already chosen for him to wear and starts dressing him while giving me a few tips and pointers. Finally, she puts a white cotton hat over his head and swaddles him like a burrito in a baby blue blanket.
"I think he wants his daddy," she tells me when he starts crying again.
She puts him in my arms and I'm holding him for the first time, unable to stop admiring our little blessing. When I look up, I realise Houyem is gone and it's just him and me in the bedroom. I start to gently rock him from side to side and the crying stops. Right when I think he's falling asleep, I see him struggling to open up his eyes.
"Hi..." I whisper as he blinks a couple of times.
I want to introduce myself but the knot in my throat keeps me from talking. Right away I know that there's nothing in this world that I wouldn't do for those curious eyes looking back at me.
Layla slowly walks into the bedroom assisted by Helen and our mother.
"How are you even standing?" I ask in disbelief.
If men gave birth I'm positive that we would spend weeks in bed in a hospital afterwards.
She giggles. "I even took a shower already," she stops in front of me, kisses our baby's head and looks up at me. "You look so handsome as a dad."
"Those are some strong Arab genes," Helen points out. "He looks exactly like you!" She tells me.
"It's like I'm seeing you as a newborn again," mama concurs.
My chest grows with pride. I don't mind how he looks but it's nice to know that he will definitely be as good looking as his dad.
Mama holds him while I help Layla sit on the bed and adjust some pillows to support her back. It's time for breastfeeding but it's also very late, so I advise my mother to go home and accompany her and Helen, who's also leaving, to the door. I take the opportunity to sit in the living room and reply to a few messages and calls to let everyone know that both Layla and the baby are doing great.
When I come back to the bedroom, Layla looks at me with a big smile on her face.
"He's eating!" She exclaims.
"Just remember to make sure that he's positioning his mouth correctly," Houyem reminds her, while standing next to the bed.
I get on the bed next to them to watch the beautiful scene and Houyem lets us know it is time for her to leave as well.
"No, no, no, you stay here," she tells me when I offer to walk her to the door too. "I can show myself out," and then she turns to Layla. "Whatever you need, if you have any questions, just call or text, okay?"
"Thank you so much for everything," I tell her.
"Yes," Layla agrees. "It was all perfect."
"You're welcome," she replies. "We were only there rooting for you, the new parents."
"Aren't you tired?" I ask Layla once we're alone.
"I am beyond exhausted," she admits. "But at the same time I want to keep looking at him," her sight is lost on our son and she sighs deeply. "Do you really think we can do this?" She wonders.
I kiss the side of her head. "I'm positive that we can."
The next day in the afternoon, after barely sleeping for a couple of hours and after changing endless diapers, Uncle Saeed arrives to meet his nephew. We're not ready yet for visits, but we made an exception for him only. Uncle Saeed sits on the recliner in the bedroom with our son in his arms and Layla and I sit on the couch in front of him.
"Mashallah, mashallah... He looks exactly like you!" He tells me.
"There's something we haven't told you yet," I reply.
"What's that?"
"We're naming him after our favorite uncle," Layla announces.
His eyes travel back and forward from Layla to me.
"I don't think we would be together if it wasn't for you, Uncle," Layla adds.
His eyes begin to fill with tears and he looks down at the baby once more. "Well, I— I—" he chokes on the words.
I stand up and go to sit on the arm of the chair he's sitting on to put a hand on his back. "Uncle, let me introduce you to Saeed bin Hamdan bin Mohammed Al Maktoum."
---
6 months later
I can feel the dirt on my feet, hands and all over my face, but I do not mind. Saeed Hilal quietly drives to the house as I lean my head against the car window, thinking about the many conversations I had with Layla these past few weeks about what it was like for her to lose her father. Given the description she gave me of how she felt, I don't think it makes much of a difference if you're a small child or an adult, because I still get this sudden feeling of unprotection.
The entire family had time to prepare for this, we were able to say good-bye, to settle any unfinished business if we wanted to and I'm grateful for that, but the downside of knowing someone you love is dying is that you start losing them before it actually happens, and when the time finally arrives it is still extremely painful.
I, alongside my brothers and other male members of the family, put him to the ground and there is something very powerful about how we carry out that ritual. I've seen images of burials where people stand around the coffin in black outfits as some cemetery employee starts to slowly lower it down into the ground and then other people put dirt over the coffin. But not us, no. I was down there in that hole and pushed the dirt over my father's body with my bare hands and even though I haven't shed a single tear my heart is aching like I have never felt before.
Saeed stops the car in front of the main door and we both get out, when I walk around the car to go into the house, my bodyguard is standing there with a grim look on his face.
"What happens tomorrow, sir?" He asks me.
I shake my head. "Nothing, Saeed, nothing happens tomorrow. I will call you when the mourning days are over."
Saeed presses his lips together and nods. "It was an honor to have met your father," he adds.
"Thank you," I reply.
We exchange a hug and no more words are spoken. He drives the car to the garage and I walk to the main door where I leave my shoes before stepping inside. When I close the door behind me I hear quick steps coming down the stairs.
"Hey..." Layla greets me in a low voice, still wearing the black abaya she had on this morning. She holds my face with both hands and wipes dirt away from my cheeks with her thumbs. "How was it?" She wonders.
I shrug. "It was okay, I suppose. How are the girls?"
"Sad," she replies. "Maryam was finally asleep when I left."
Her sight keeps examining the rest of me as if I had just come back from the war, until she reaches for my hands and takes me to the powder room nearby. She takes my watch and headscarf off and rolls up my sleeves to begin washing my hands. With a white towel she dries them thoroughly and looks up at me again.
"I'm okay," I tell her.
She tilts her head to the side. "Are you?"
"All I need is a shower. Where is Saeed?"
"He's asleep."
We head upstairs to our bedroom with our arms around each other and she lets the hot water run for me before leaving me alone in the bathroom. I close my eyes as the warm water falls down on my body and memories of my father begin circling in my mind. He taught me everything I know about falcons and I vividly remember the first falcon he gave me that was all mine to train. I cannot wait to teach Saeed all I learned from his grandfather.
I step out of the shower and put on grey shorts and a t-shirt, before I walk out into the bedroom I can already hear Layla talking to someone and when I open the door I find her pacing around with the phone to her ear.
"I know, honey, I know..." She says and then mouths the name Maryam to me.
I think about asking her to let me talk to my sister but before I can get the words out Saeed's cry comes through the baby monitor. I signal to Layla that I'll take care of him and head to the nursery next to our bedroom. In the crib by the corner, I find him half asleep, half fussing around. His diaper seems to be still clean so I take him with me to sit on the recliner chair where Layla usually feeds him. He settles his head over my shoulder and I run my hand up and down on his back while softly rocking him back and forward.
There's just a night light illuminating the entire room and it's only now that I'm realising how much I want to be alive, not for me, but for him. I want to be alive for my son, I want to be there for him. Now that I know the pain of losing my own father I want this suffering to be pushed as further away as possible for him. My throat gets tight when I imagine leaving him at five like it happened to Layla and now I understand her fear and hesitation about having children of her own.
I cannot hold it in anymore and finally tears fill my eyes and start falling down my face as I pray and beg to the almighty Allah to let me live long enough to see him grow, to give me the wisdom to be a good father and to grant me health to create amazing memories with him, so when the time comes for me to die, my beloved son will have those memories to hold onto and cherish for the rest of his life.
Sobbing like I have never sobbed before in my adult life, I cannot pray or think anymore. I can only cry like a child who has just lost his dad.
---
Today I have a lot to say, so here we go...
I didn't plan for this update to be published with Father's Day celebrations being so close in many parts of the world. If you have lost a father figure, I'm sending you a big hug and if you still have your dad or any father figure around, make sure you let them know how much you care. Even if you're not celebrating father's day that's always a good idea.
I know that it has been almost two weeks since my last update but I'll give you another one in a couple of days :) BUT I have to let you know that I'm traveling next weekend and the weekend after that one is my birthday, so... busy days are upon us, I'll do my best.
Also, I have noticed a sudden surge of scammers following me or my story. PLEASE, Hamdan is not here on Wattpad reading fanfics about himself, do not trust anyone telling you they are Hamdan. When I notice one of these people lurking around my stories I block them but that doesn't keep them from contacting any of you. Again, DO NOT engage with these people, DO NOT give them your phone number, DO NOT send them your pics and DO NOT send them your hard earned money. The guy is filthy rich, why would he want your money? Because that's not him! So let's be smart about this.
Finally, I'm getting close to get 500 followers so yay! And thanks for your support.
Lots of love,
Sophie.