Yesterday there was a woman on the corner of my block selling strawberries. She stood underneath a tree for shade. She held her son, he was two years old. I drove into my driveway with my son who is 19 months old. I ran to her and asked if she wanted a chair for her son. I told her about mine and she said that they were fine. She couldn’t find anyone to watch him so she stood there in the midday selling strawberries with him. I pointed to my house and told her if she needed anything to just knock.
That night I was thankful that I was on my way home from yoga class when I saw her. I was thankful to not have to sell strawberries while I carried Omar; I was thankful for my home and family; I was thankful for the nice hot showers I get to take, the meals I get to make, the time I get to spend being grateful.
Today I asked for forgiveness for worrying. Most of the days I am positive. I touch my belly as Azalea kicks and moves. I try to stay focused in the present as I watch Omar smile. Today as I made him lunch, I cried and I cried. I went to my new OB today; she reminded me that Azalea could have a genetic defect. I hate when they remind me of that. I hate when they tell me she could be stillborn or born premature. I know this may be the case and I try to accept it. I also don’t like when people tell me everything will be just fine and she will be great because they don’t know. No one knows.
So I pray.
Sometimes I don’t even know what to pray for. Should I pray for her to be healthy and live a long life and if that doesn’t happen will I get too depressed? I can’t change what is written. As I sit on my prayer mat I try to find the right words, I try not to ask for too much, I try to maintain my gratitude and contentment.
The imam at my mosque asked me awhile back if I’ve dreamed with her. I did in the beginning and she looked like my husband’s sister as a little girl. I haven’t since then and I wonder what that means. When I was pregnant with my son I had vibrant dreams of ancient Sufis dressed in royal blue with long beards making salat in our mosque.
I want those dreams again and peacefulness in my heart so I could handle things.