Chapter Nine – How It Happened
Four Years Ago...
When Lutfiyah was two, her mother miscarried in her first trimester. When Lutfiyah was five, she miscarried in her first month of pregnancy. When Lutfiyah was ten, her mother carried the twins to full term and then gave birth to two stillborn babies.
Lutfiyah never heard speak of more children after that.
The doctors spoke of natural killer cells and treatment that was being rejected. They spoke of cold in the womb and complications and her mother's body's inability to bear healthy children and her mother would have been a broken body with no soul if it hadn't been for Lutfiyah. Lutfiyah who was proof that no matter what science said, Saffiyah Abbas was capable of birthing a healthy child. It was just not meant for her family to be bigger.
She always said that she would have children to love when Lutfiyah had her own.
This was not what she had meant.
"Are you one hundred percent sure, doctor? I mean, could there have been a mistake?"
The doctor looked down at the pleading woman and regretfully shook his head. Normally news of a pregnancy was met with much happier expressions. The looks of devastation on all three adults' faces were quite distressing but he understood why. This was not a child that was planned. It was not a child from a happy relationship or any sort of relationship for that matter. This was a child of abuse and horror and it was no wonder that the woman carrying the embryo looked like she was about to faint.
Lutfiyah stood up, ignoring the doctor's concerned looked and hurried out of the room, turning a deaf ear to her mother's calls. She broke out into a run and turned towards the stairs, climbing until she reached the top floor of the hospital. She smiled wanly at the nurses as she passed them, walking now as fast as her legs could carry her, her bones trembling at the unnatural pace she set for herself. Eventually, she reached the end of the corridor and she pressed her forehead against a window, her hot breath steaming up the glass.
She placed her hands against the window pane and pushed, wanting to shove herself out, just out of this body that was betraying her even as she breathed. It wasn't only her anger pushing out but rather her pain and frustration and everything that went with it. Tears streamed down her cheeks leaving behind wet, salty tracks and she gasped out a breath, feeling as if her lungs were squeezing on themselves. She blacked out.
Lutfiyah opened her eyes and realised that she was laying on a hospital bed, the doctor who had given her the news leaning over her and flashing a light into her eyes.
"Welcome back to earth, Ms Abbas."
She looked around and saw her parents' concerned gazes and she felt a flush of shame rush through her. It seemed that all she did nowadays was worry them.
"I'm sorry," she said, her gaze looking at the floor in guilt.
Her father frowned and shook his head. "Don't you dare be sorry, Lutfiyah. This is not your fault and we just have to remember that Allah will not give us more than we can handle. We love you and we just want to see you happy. As happy as can be."
Her gaze flickered down to her stomach and lingered there, her brain unable to process the fact that there was a living being growing inside of her.
"How did this happen? I thought that the morning pill was supposed to prevent this from happening," she said, lifting a questioning brow at her doctor.
The doctor cleared his throat. "I see from your file that you only orally ingested it after you woke up from your coma which was a week after your incident. The pill has a much higher chance of working if administered in the first twenty-four hours after penetration. So I presume in your case that it was ineffective due to your late ingestion."
Lutfiyah nodded and wondered why it had taken her so long to realise that she was carrying a child. The more she thought about it, the more she realised it wasn't actually her fault. They had left for home not long after she had gained consciousness due to her urgent need to be away from Chicago and she hadn't been to the hospital since then.
Her cycle had always been dodgy whenever she was stressed out which she had certainly been due to exams and then with the 'incident', she had assumed that her cycle had just gone crazy. So when she hadn't bled that month, she wasn't too concerned. No one had been worried. She had taken the pill and everything would be okay.
Until two days ago, when she had started to vomit and then collapsed from dehydration.
"Mr and Mrs Abbas, as your family doctor, I will give you the options. Lutfiyah is a young healthy woman who is more than capable of carrying this baby to term. However, if you choose not to, she is allowed to abort the ch-
"No!" Three faces whipped towards her and she flushed with embarrassment. "No. I'm sorry but that will not be one of my options."
"Lutfiyah don't be in such a hurry. Consider your options."
Lutfiyah gasped. "Papa! How could you say such a thing? This is going to grow into a living breathing being. A child with your daughter's blood in it."
"Yes, but you didn't want-
"You think I don't know that! I was there!"
Her mother turned pale. "Oh, Allah. What are we going to do?"
The doctor cleared his throat. "Well, there's always adoption. There are many couples out there who would love to have a child but are unable to and if you insist on carrying the baby to term and don't want to raise him or her then adoption is an option."
The Abbas family exchanged looks and Lutfiyah nodded. "We will definitely think about it."
The next hour was spent on making appointments for the future months and the family left with numbers and loads of information on who to contact should Lutfiyah wish to let her child be adopted.
Her parents were silent all the way home, the tension in the car; palpable and thick as gel.
"Amma..."
Her mother turned in her seat and looked at her. "What is it, bachoo?"
Lutfiyah felt her heart swell at the sweet endearment. "I'm scared."
Her mother reached out and squeezed her hand. "We'll work this out. Don't you worry."
The months passed in a blur and as Lutfiyah grew bigger, the worry of what to do with the baby once it was born grew too. Lutfiyah tried to remain aloof throughout the months but perhaps it was nature playing its role and perhaps it was just Allah knowing that this baby would be the catalyst in Lutfiyah's healing process. Either way, she began to grow attached to the child, speaking to it, singing to it and spending hours with her hand on her stretched stomach, feeling for the slightest of movements.
Her parents began to worry and she overheard them arguing one day as to what would happen if Lutfiyah decided to keep the baby. Suffice it to say, her problems were causing problems for her parents.
That was when she decided to move out.
The news was met with much shouting and tantrum throwing. She had already found an apartment and it was a few towns over, away from everyone that they knew. The company that had given her a bursary had an office stationed there and once she gave birth, she would even have a job. It was nice and out of the way. She had chosen Ilford on purpose so that her parents would never have the fear of saying, "What will people say?". No one they knew lived there.
Her mother had broken down in tears and her father had glared at her with fire in his eyes. The last time she had tried to do her own thing, they had agreed. And look what had happened!
She tried to explain to them, make them understand that she was doing this for them as well as for herself. She had grown to love her child and she knew that in their society, an unmarried girl with a baby would not be treated kindly. She wanted better for her baby.
And so she had moved and she had given birth. Her mother had come to stay with her for a few weeks, teaching her how to bathe, feed and dress the tiny being that was her Maysura. Despite all objections, the blue-eyed angel stole the hearts of her grandparents. Her mother would dote on the cherub-cheeked baby, making funny sounds and talking to her as if the baby understood everything.
And Lutfiyah. She no longer woke to visions of kicks and filthy faces but rather to the cries of a baby wanting milk.
The baby healed her and her natural maternal love increased because of it. When Lutfiyah looked at her daughter, she didn't see the girl's biological father's eyes or nose or mouth or hair. She saw a beautiful baby who gurgled when her mother spoke to her, who shrieked in delight when her grandfather rubbed his nose into her tummy, who stretched out chubby arms to her grandmother the moment the older woman entered the room. And like that, the child stole the hearts of all around her.