A few weeks ago I wrote a post that took me an hour to write. I wanted to link a video and I somehow erased it. It was Azalea’s birth story. Maybe one day I will write it again. For now I will tell you that I had a VBAC (Vaginal Birth After Cesarian) now known as a TOLAC (Trial of Labor After Cesarian). Why they changed the name, I don’t know. I will tell you that it was fast and easy. Alhamdullilah, God answered all my prayers during labor. It was painful. Not Azalea trying to push out but the terrible back labor I was having. It was like something was trying to take my tailbone out without any mercy.
She was not blue, not her skin but her eyes-the color of blue slate. She was born beautiful. Black hair. She doesn’t really look like me. She looks like my husband. Both my kids do. MashaAllah.
Azalea spent the first 8 days of her life at Children’s Hospital.
I never got that 40 days of rest. It’s ok. I hated it at the moment but it’s ok. I had to walk from the car to the hospital, up and down the hospital to make sure she had insurance. I hardly got sleep and it was weird not having my daughter home.
I have a daughter with a complex heart but she breathes. Her heart beats. She smiles. Azalea loves the water and lots of sleep.
There were mothers who were not able to hold their babies at the hospital. I was there all day holding her. I am thankful for that. I am also thankful for speaking English, for being educated, for knowing that I have to be on top of her healthcare. You can fall through the cracks. Translations aren’t always true. You may want the best for your child but not know how to ask, how to demand it. These mothers were fierce. They stood beside their baby’s incubator wearing purple gloves touching fingers and toes. I never saw them cry.
I couldn’t imagine living in another country and going through this. I couldn’t imagine how it would be not to be a fluent speaker, not to have my closest friends or family around, nor an understanding of how to navigate the system.
I am blessed.
Azalea’s brother, Omar, will be 2 in 2 days, inshaAllah. He loves the baby and gives her too many kisses. It is difficult for him to share my milk. He thinks he owns my breasts and I have to keep on telling him they are mine. It makes me think of how I have to raise a boy just right to always respect women and not feel a sense of entitlement.
I want to be constantly writing but I am constantly just trying to keep up. I am trying to stay focused and positive. Azalea will have surgery at some point, inshaAllah. Maybe in a couple of weeks, maybe in a couple of months. My family talks about miracles. That makes me cry. I don’t want to ask God for too much.
I want my daughter to feel all the love around her. I want her to explore this world and have a deep connection with God. I want her to be grateful. I don’t want her to worry, nor self-pity. I want her to be strong.
Sometimes I am not strong. There are days that sometimes is often but that is changing. My kids can’t have a mother that falls apart.