Lost and Found.

26th April 2013

 



My earliest possible memory of loss must have been the time my much-loved Barbie had to attend the grandest ball I ever made up for her, with only a left shoe. Measuring slightly bigger than nothing, a Barbie’s shoe only knows how to find its way under a bed by the only corner that will never be searched at, or under a screaming parent’s foot.

I was devastated nonetheless. And I searched the entire space possible under my parents’ bed. “How could my Barbie have her dress and everything else so capably perfect, then lose just her right shoe?” I thought.

I spent the time crawling and searching. My mother sighed and told me it was fine - the Barbie could go on barefooted. In between my tiny sobs that could only make sense to another seven-year-old girl, I probably did not realize how much I learned through the art of searching. While I lost a Barbie’s shoe, I found comfort in eventually learning that it’s okay not to have things perfect. I found comfort in - and through - my mother’s voice.
Twenty years later, and still very much learning, I lost something that I believed was going to be much more perfect. Something I thought would complete what I imagined as an unfinished puzzle. I lost my unborn child. I lost a life in my womb.

Again, as with any other losses one would experience, I got devastated. Reasonably devastated, I told myself. “How could I go through so much joy and excitement in between those nausea and those time spent handcrafting what could have been my child’s first soft toy; then go through disappointments and shocks from heartbreaking ultrasound scans?” I wondered.

But again, like my seven-year-old self, too, I began searching. I searched for comfort. But most of all, I searched for God.

For me at least, I believe that while one may have been praying, the searching never stops for God. At least the learning never stops.

And it has been a beautiful time searching. I searched and studied more beautiful verses from the Qur’an. I began loving Allah more and more.

I find it almost hard to believe how calm and grateful I have been feeling after going through a hardship.

“O you who believe! Strengthen yourselves with resolution and prayer. Indeed Allah is with those who persevere in adversity.” [Surah Al-Baqarah, 2:153]

Gradually, I understood more on the notion of how much He loves us even by giving us hardships. Maybe He misses us. Maybe He wants us to remember Him again. Maybe He wants us nearer. Maybe there is no maybe in all of that. It really is all of that.

When my loved ones found out about the news of my pregnancy loss, they showered me with love, comfort and gifts. I realized even further just how blessed I am to have a set of amazing souls I can call my family. I realized how blessed I am be surrounded by love and kindness. I understood further just how much He loves me! While I lost my unborn child, He proved to me the gifts He has blessed me with - my husband, my family, my friends, the love they provide, the bed I get to rest in.

Alhamdulillah.

Maybe our child came and went from my husband’s and my life, to show us love. To show His love. To show how kind He is to make us learn. Our unborn child really was the perfect piece to an incomplete puzzle.

This story isn’t about loss nor is it portraying, let alone allowing, any rush of sadness to shine through. It is about searching. It seems almost surreal how sadness turns to calmness, to hope, and to faith, simply in the remembrance of Him and His grace.

Truly, in every loss, there is always something to be found. Strength, hope, faith and so much more I have yet - and want - to still learn. In shaa Allah.

Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji’un (Surely we belong to God and to Him shall we return).