“Have a good day,” she said softly, stealing a kiss on the cheek as he grabbed his phone, keys and turned to leave. A faint grunt of a “bye” slipped by as he turns and slides the door closed. She stands there for a moment, gazing out at a space where only moments ago, his body stood. She imagined him turning back around with a smile and a hug, maybe even a kiss too. Imagined him saying something like, “you too,” or “have a great day,” just some small acknowledgement of her existence. Once upon a time, she would have gotten all that and more.
But this was not that time anymore. So she let out a sigh, glanced at the greasy plate, and stained glasses sitting in the kitchen sink, and then down at her belly. She caressed it, trying to feel the comfort of the slight kicks. That reminder that even when she was absolutely sure of it, she was not alone.
But there was nothing.
She must still be sleeping. “Come on baby, let’s take a nap,” she whispered to her belly. Curling up on the couch, swollen feet propped up on the edges, she tried to get comfortable. Impossible on this couch, but too tired to go upstairs. She glanced at her phone, scrolling through all the updates on pregnancy, labor, delivery. Two more weeks and this little baby would no longer be just hers. As excited as she was to see and hold her, it was nice just having her all to herself. She closed her eyes, imagining her face, her eyes, her body kicking in front of her as much as it does inside her.
Ooh. She felt a sudden pain coming from her belly. Could this be the contractions? Already? She closed her eyes, trying to breathe through. It stopped. Glancing down at her phone, it said 7:14 am. What is it you’re supposed to do? After a quick google search, she switched apps and turned on her stopwatch. The next one didn’t happen until ten minutes later, and only lasted a few seconds. Okay, just Braxton Hicks. This is fine. She could just walk around a little bit. After about half an hour, there were no new contractions. It’s not even 8 in the morning. No point waking anyone and troubling them. And he wouldn’t want her to call and bother him unless it was something serious.
She decided to go upstairs and sleep. She hadn’t slept well the night before. Some rest would be good for both her and the baby. She climbed into bed, placed the phone next to her head on the pillow, and closed her eyes.
Suddenly, she was jolted by a sharp, stabbing pain coming from her side. The baby! She didn’t know if this was real labor or not, but this pain was definitely real. “Owww!” she held her phone and brought herself up to a sitting position. Quickly dialed his number. Three rings, nothing. Again, and nothing. She felt pricks at the corners of her eyelids, but did not dare to let them escape already. She called once more, finally hearing the rough, “What is it, why are you calling me so many times?!” She gulped, feeling a sudden dryness where the urgency was only seconds ago. “I...I, I’m in a lot of pain. I think the baby’s coming.” Silence.
“Hello?”
“Yeah, I heard you. Are you sure?”
“I think so, I don’t know- I’ve never had a baby before,” to which he snapped, “Well, who's supposed to know then, me?” Silence again. That deafening silence that’s so loud it makes her almost welcome the screams.
“I need to go to the hospital,” she finally said. “Ok, well you know I’m almost an hour away. Call someone to take you and I’ll meet you there,” and with that, he was gone, ending the conversation and shutting off the phone.
She placed both hands at the top of her belly, wincing as she felt that pain come again. Like cramps, only worse. She picked up her phone. It was 10:45 am. It had felt like only a few moments of sleep! How had all that time passed?
She called her sister first. She knew her mother would go into full panic mode. This way, she wouldn’t have to deal with telling her. “Hey,” she said, as Reem answered after the first ring. “Hey, everything okay?” “Yeah, it’s fine, but um, I think I need to go to the hospital. The baby, I think, she’s coming. Can you please drop me off?” “I’ll be right there,” she said. She thanked her and got up to prepare herself to leave. Baby bag was ready; it had been for weeks. Her parents’ house was about twenty-five minutes away, and she was sure her sister would tell her mom, and they would need a little time to get ready and leave. Enough time to shower before they came.
“Oooph,” she winced, feeling that stabbing pain again. She tried to ignore it as she got a quick shower, attempting to shave whatever she could. She chose what was most comfortable and easy to reach from the closet. ‘Cute’ not very high on her priority list anymore.
She looked around the bedroom, where almost nothing was ready yet. Just the baby’s bassinet and a few outfits. She sighed, looking over at an old photo of her and her husband. They were smiling, and he had one arm on her shoulder. She stared at the photo. It seemed out of place now.
She heard a soft knock coming from the front door. She looked over past the bedroom door to the silhouette of her sister, grabbing her hospital bag.
She allowed herself one more quick glance at the photo before shutting off the light, closing the door, and walking out.
“Hey,” she managed through a small grunt as she found her sister Reem waiting by the front door, staring at her with wide eyes.
“What?” Noor asked as she passed her sister her duffel bag. “It’s really happening. She’s coming,” Reem smiled as she spoke. Noor bit her lip. If only she were as excited. She looked back at her sister as she locked the front door. “What did you tell mama?” Reem’s smile vanished. “Uh, so about that…” Noor walked to the car, opening the door already knowing she would find her mother there, and, of course, she was right. But she wasn’t upset, or annoyed. She climbed into the backseat, running into her mother’s arms. Sometimes, this was the only place that felt safe. Her mother held her, and then gently touched her big belly. Noor suddenly felt a flash. It was a moment two years ago, where Noor was holding her own mother, assuring her that this was the right choice for her. That her marriage would be a happy one, and that her mother’s worries were just fear. Not the red flags that Noor herself seemed to be blinded to for so long. Reem turned on the car, and Noor felt herself closing her eyes and making a quick duaa for herself and her baby as she gazed back at the empty house shrinking farther and farther away behind her.
She looked down at her phone, again, as a nurse came in to check on her. Since she had gotten there, it felt like her body had become nothing more than a vessel for every
nurse and doctor to poke and prod. She looked at her mother, who failed at pretending not to worry. Her OB/GYN wasn’t there yet, but was supposed to be arriving soon to perform an ultrasound to check on her.
“Noor Abdallah,” the gynecologist stated matter-of-factly as she swiftly walked into the room. Noor looked up from her phone, saw the kind smile on her doctor’s face. “Dr. Susan, thank God you’re here!” Noor’s mother exclaimed as Dr. Susan made her way over to the bedside and looked straight at Noor. “Ready?”
Noor’s gown was lifted, and the ultrasound gel splattered on her stomach. “Hmm,” Dr. Susan mused quietly. “What?” Noor managed to lift up a little as she looked across at the big bump in front of her. “When was the last time you felt the baby move?” the gynecologist asked gently, her eyes furrowed together. “Uh, um, this morning,” Noor said, almost certain it was this morning. “I felt the contractions, but they were too far apart, so I went back to sleep. But then I woke up from the pain, and that’s when I decided to come in...” She nodded, only saying, “Okay. She could just be sleeping or having a lazy morning.” She patted Noor gently on the shoulder, quickly cleaned the gel off and walked over to whisper something to the nurse. Noor looked at her mom, the doctor, and then back at her phone. Still no notifications.
She felt the tears prick once again, and she closed her eyes to hold them back. She couldn’t let herself do that now, not in front of all these people.
“OW!” she gulped, feeling another big contraction. “They feel like they’re coming faster,” the gynecologist exclaimed as she walked back to the monitor, one of the nurses already close by monitoring.
“Doctor, she’s only a minute apart, but still not dilating,” the nurse looked between Noor and the doctor. Noor allowed her mother’s voice to fade into the background as she asked Dr. Susan more questions, while glancing through her Snapchat and Instagram for any potential updates. She hated this. Hated that in this moment, instead of just getting to focus on having her baby right now, she had to be busy worrying where he still was and why he hadn’t arrived yet.
“Noor? Noor?” her doctor’s voice broke her trance, and she blinked as she looked to see both the doctor and her mother staring back at her. “Yes?” “Noor, your contractions are a minute apart but you're not dilating at all yet. Have you heard of something called an abrupted placenta?” Noor shook her head slowly. Every week, she would receive an update on the status of her baby. This week she was the size of a melon. She had grown hair, fingernails, and a smile. Noor knew all about taking walks and eating dates, and she researched the difference between real contractions and Braxton Hicks, i.e. false labor. But placental abruption? She had never even heard of it before.
The doctor spoke slowly and carefully. “Your placenta may have abrupted. Your placenta is what gives your baby oxygen and nutrients to live. But we can’t tell because it doesn’t show up on an ultrasound. It’s hidden underneath that. If that’s true, we may need to perform a C-section.” Noor suddenly found herself panicking at that word. C-section. That’s what she dreaded, as did everyone she knew. She saw a documentary before about how C sections were usually performed by doctors who just wanted to finish the labor. It helped with the insurance payout because it’s a surgery. And it meant that she didn’t try or do enough. Good moms deliver naturally. She didn’t want to be a mom who took the easy way out. “Can I please try for natural first?” she asked, her mouth dry as she looked back at her gynecologist. Dr. Susan looked at her sympathetically, then at the nurse. “We’ll try. If it doesn’t work, we may very well have to go in for C-section.” Noor nodded.
She watched Dr. Susan walk out of the room. She found herself focusing on a tile on the floor. All of them were polished and perfectly symmetrical, but one. You couldn’t tell unless you paid close attention. Its corner was chipped, but only lightly. Unless you really focused, no one would ever know its imperfection. And at that moment, she couldn’t hold back the tears. She felt them sting as they began to reach her cheeks, chin, and continue down to her gown. Her mother noticed and immediately came to hold her. Noor sniffled, letting her mom and the nurses there believe it was the pain, or the fear. Whatever it was they thought, it didn’t matter.
Then, Noor heard a light tap on the door. Her husband walked in, almost ran, into the room and over to her side. His eyes were wide, and his face solemn. “Habibty, how are you doing?” he held her close, and her brows furrowed, almost in surprise, as she already felt the tears begin to dry up. She felt her mother’s gaze on her, but didn’t dare to look back. She didn’t need to say a word, and she didn’t. But they both knew what the other was thinking.
Noor cleared her throat before looking up into his face. “Where, why did it take you so long? It’s been at least two hours.” She fought to hold back whatever feeling was rising out of her throat as she pronounced each word carefully. She was pretty sure it was two, if not more. At this point, time seemed to be moving in blurs, not in minutes. He looked as if he was about to roll his eyes but stopped himself. “You know my job is almost an hour from here. And I couldn’t just leave, I had to finish what I was doing first. And this hospital, it took forever just to find the maternity wing!” She nodded as he flashed his charming smile, not only at her but at the nurses too. Thought about when she had asked him to come with her to register, and how even after she explained it would be better to go, so that he recognized the hospital and knew what wing to go to, he insisted she drive alone. That she would be fine, he was tired from work, and how hard could it be, really? She thought of this now, as she held her belly again, drowning out the noise as her mother tried to explain to him what the doctor had already told them.
“Well... we obviously have to do what the doctors say,” he spoke before her mother even finished explaining. “They know better than us,” his voice stated matter-of-factly, invading her thoughts with his confidence. Because it was obvious, so simple, and easy. Just like that, he was able to dismiss all her hesitations and fears without her even having to state them. She breathed in, looking back at him as he just smiled at her and held her hands. He kissed her knuckles and came in closer to her, drawing his forehead to hers. “I know you’re scared, but we have to be brave. For our little girl. We’ve been waiting so long to meet her,” and she feigned a weak smile of her own. She still couldn’t understand how this always came so easy to him. How this was the same man she said goodbye to this morning. Yet somehow, in this moment, she couldn’t be upset. All she found herself doing was closing her eyes to soak it in, as much as she could before it all disappeared again.
Noor’s eyes fluttered, and she tried to rest her eyes a few moments despite the pain. Then, she heard Dr. Susan’s voice again. “Noor, we’re going to perform an epidural to help with the pain. Hopefully it’ll make you feel better. Ok?” she asked warmly. Noor opened her eyes to see her in front of her. Her mother to her left, and her husband somewhere in the corner of the room, his eyes cast downwards toward his phone. Noor opened her mouth, breathing in. “Okay,” hoping this would lessen the stabbing pain coming from her stomach. She thought quickly of the kicks of her little girl. She always imagined her baby girl inside of her, bouncing as if she were playing in a jungle gym made just for her. But Noor did not feel those kicks now. At this point, she couldn’t even remember the last time she had felt them. She looked up and around the busy room, straight at her husband who only now noticed the commotion of what was to come. He cleared his throat and walked over, held her hand. “My mom and sisters are asking about Noor,” he stated. Noor looked at him and said nothing. She felt no need to at that moment. Her mom looked worried as she squeezed Noor’s hands. “Mama, make duaa, Allah will make it easy for you habibty,” her mother urged her as she quietly whispered her own prayers. Noor smiled at her mother. “I know, mama. Don’t worry, Inshallah khair,” all will be fine. She said it aloud, trying her best to hide back the fear that was fighting its way to the surface. Her husband put a hand on her mother’s shoulder, quietly leading her outside of the room as he glanced back at Noor before they left. It wasn’t long before the anesthesiologist came in. He was quick and precise as the nurses gently encouraged and assured Noor how she would be fine, this wouldn’t take long, and that it would help with the pain.
As the nurse cleaned her back and she was positioned for the injection, Noor closed her eyes, thinking of when she found out she was pregnant. Her husband was at work, and she remembered how she would religiously take pregnancy tests, the agony of waiting, and the disappointment of seeing the negative sign. But that time, she was shocked to see the little plus sign instead. She didn’t believe it, and she remembered going to the drug store for two more tests, just to be sure. She remembered how excited she was, putting a bow on the test to surprise her husband. At the moment, he was just as excited as her. It looked as if he was close to tears when she told him, shouting, and hugging her so tight. But even that faded. Nothing seemed to ever be enough to keep him happy, not even getting what they supposedly had always wanted- to start a family together.
“Noor?” Noor looked around, the beeping of the hospital monitors and the voice of the nurse bringing her back to the present. Dr. Susan walked in, her mother pacing swiftly behind her. “The epidural may need a few more minutes to take effect,” to which Noor whispered to her mother, “Where is he?” and her mother pursed her lips. “On his phone, talking to God knows who now. Mom, sister, friend- I don’t know,” and before Noor could respond, she overheard the nurse telling Dr. Susan that it had already been enough time for the epidural “to take effect,” and just as Noor processed this, Dr. Susan came to check on her. She had barely pressed on her belly before Noor let out a sharp yelp. “No, stop!” Noor cried, fighting back the tears as she felt that stabbing pain once again. “Yes, it’s tender,” Dr. Susan said as she looked at Noor, her eyes serious and her face stern. “Noor, I think it’s time. We need to prep you for a c-section.” She closed her eyes, and felt her mother’s hands squeezing hers again, so tight she didn’t know whether blood was circulating to her fingers or not. She made a quick duaa before opening her eyes, nodding to her gynecologist. Dr. Susan left Noor and her mother, telling the nurses something before she stepped out of the room. A nurse walked over to Noor. “Okay, Noor, so only one person can go inside with you. I’m assuming that’s dad?” Noor automatically felt herself nod, the “yes,” on the tip of her tongue- only to hesitate. She opened her mouth and felt no words come out. Noor was surprised to hear her mom’s voice instead. “I’ll get him, he was nervous,” and that was probably the first time that day her mother voluntarily left her side. The IV was being moved closer towards her, and a nurse gently asked her to take off her hijab. “It’s cleaner for surgery and gets in the way, so your scarf will have to be removed.” Noor felt strange as she unwrapped her hijab, tugging tightly on the smaller piece before she removed it too, quickly placing the sterile cap on and tucking her hair inside of it. Noor sensed a quiet tenseness around her, or maybe it was just inside her. If her husband wasn’t by her side and wasn’t her one person there when she was getting ready to give birth to her, their, baby- would he ever be?
A few moments later, her mother walked in with her husband by her side. He gave her a weak smile. “So… you ready?” She gazed at him, not even knowing what to say. Was I ready? And with that question, she felt a flutter and then another pang - that stabbing feeling. And she realized at that moment that the physical may have only seemed to manifest since that morning, but the real pain had been there for months. The days of sitting alone, waiting up into the darkest hours of the nights. The arguments that led to the deafening silent treatments. The loneliness of doctors’ appointments. The sinking feeling every time someone asked how excited she was to be starting a family. That feeling of hopelessness that just wouldn’t go away. She winced and felt herself digging her nails into her bed from the pain, a yelp coming from her mouth. The beeping of the monitors were ringing faster and louder as the nurses around her were coming closer. She felt Dr. Suzan and others pacing into the room, “She’s bleeding,” one said. “Noor, we are going in for surgery right now,” Dr. Suzan’s voice said above her, and all the faces in the room became a blur. She heard something about triage, emergency, cesarean. Noor slowly closed her eyes and felt herself struggling to keep pace with whatever was suddenly going on until she realized she was being wheeled out of the room. Right before she was, she remembered seeing two things. The first was her mother, eyes red and puffy from the tears. And the second was her husband, whose expression she wasn’t able to read.
In the operating room, Noor opened her eyes to bright lights above her. Everything seemed to be fuzzy, and she remembered being told at a certain point that she was going to be given anesthesia to relax her, but that she would still be awake to see her baby. She didn’t see what was happening in front of her, as it was being covered by a blue curtain- and for that she was grateful. As she looked around the room, her eyes the only part of her body she felt she could move, could spot the shapes of the doctors and nurses operating. There were maybe eight or ten different people, why so many?
Noor looked around, vaguely aware she could no longer see her mother or husband by her side. She began to notice a pull, like a tugging feeling. She didn’t know what it was- the baby? She breathed in and out and soon, one of the figures was bringing over a blanketed bundle towards her. She felt her eyes grow wide and finally, for the first time since that never-ending day began, she felt a true moment of happiness. She was perfect.
Her eyes were closed, but the lids were a round, almond shape. She had a teeny tiny, symmetrical nose. Her cheeks, her whole face for that matter, were a rosy shade of pink. She had a thin line for a mouth, her lips barely visible to Noor. This was her baby, and she was absolutely perfect in every way.
But no sooner did she see her, did the person holding her begin to walk away. “Wait, no-” she struggled to protest as voices began to speak and come back to her. “Infant, NICU”- and that was all Noor needed to hear. In her head, she wanted to cry. But she couldn’t. Whatever was in that anesthetic, it made her feel too numb to do anything. Then, only after they took her baby away, did she see her husband, in full sterile protective gear, walk in and stand by her side. Our baby, you have to go to her, she wanted to say. She looked towards her husband, desperately wishing that for once, he would understand and do what he needed to. Instead, he was looking nervously towards the staff and then at her. She blinked a few times, feeling slightly faint. Then she noticed the beeping of the monitors increasing again. Something was going on again, but she didn’t care enough to stay awake for it. Her baby was no longer inside her, nor was she by her side like she was supposed to be. So Noor closed her eyes, letting everything else drift away.
When Noor opened her eyes, she was not quite sure where she was or how long she had been asleep for. The room was unfamiliar, neither the one she had the operation in, or the one she had been admitted to when she’d first arrived in the hospital. She looked around, taking a moment to take in what had happened. She found her hands instinctively moving to touch her belly, and then it hit her. “My baby! Where’s-,” and before she could continue, she felt her mother’s hands holding hers. “She’s okay, Alhamdulilah,” but her eyes were red and puffy from crying. “Hi mommy, how are you feeling?” the nurse on the other side of her bed asked with a warm smile. Noor looked around, expecting her daughter to be there…she should be there. “Where is my baby?” she asked helplessly. “Daddy is with her, mommy,” the nurse answered when Noor’s own mother hesitated. “You had a tough time, but you both were strong. Baby’s just going to need some more help getting better. Someone from pediatrics has already talked to daddy, you’ll be able to see and talk to them soon too,” the nurse said as she adjusted her bed and checked the IV fluids coming from her arm. “Thank you,” Noor managed to get out as she asked her mother where her husband was now. “He’s been with the baby?” Noor asked, glad he’s at least done that. Her mother smiled at her, “don’t worry, just rest,” was all she said to her. “Can I go see her now, please?” She wanted to take off the blanket and go, but the nurse and her mother were quick to hold her back down. “Noor, you just had surgery. Right now, you’re attached to a catheter, to help you go. You’re going to need to rest. Hopefully by tomorrow, you’ll be well enough to see your baby,” the nurse spoke gently but firmly. Noor looked up at the ceiling, begrudgingly laying back down.
A few moments later, her husband arrived. Noor looked up at him intently. “How are you?” he asked, walking towards her bedside. She didn’t bother responding, her interest being in only one thing. “How’s the baby?!” and he pulled out his phone and smiled weakly at her. “She’s beautiful. Look,” and Noor scrambled to pull the phone screen toward her face. She looked squarely at the screen, and she felt her heart break. Her little baby girl was laying there, completely alone, on an empty mattress. She had no clothes on but a diaper and a little white cap. There were tubes and wires all over her tiny body. She had three of those sticky pads and wires attached to her chest, and her mouth was almost completely covered by tape, one tube coming out of it. Her hand was taped as well, an IV attached to it. Noor noticed that even underneath the cap, there were pieces of tape and wires attached to her head.
Noor sobbed. Everything that the anesthesia had blocked her from feeling, from expressing, was released all at once. What was going to happen to her daughter? Was she going to ever get better? What was wrong with her? She didn’t even get to hold her.
The nurse that was in the room walked over towards them and gestured for the phone. He handed it to her, and she looked down at it carefully. Then she smiled, and shook her head. She looked back up at Noor, and with the utmost confidence reassured her, “She is gonna be fine, mommy,” before returning the phone to Noor’s husband. “Do you have a name for her, yet?” the nurse asked. Noor hesitantly said, “well, I really like one name; it means hope in Arabic. It’s-,” to which her husband narrowed his eyes and responded, “We already agreed to Alya. It’s my mother’s name,” he added in proudly. Noor looked at him, too exhausted to argue at that moment.
For the rest of the day, Noor tried to relax as much as she could. For the most part, it passed by quickly. She was told that she had lost a lot of blood all at once, and that’s why she suddenly needed the c-section. Then, during the surgery, they found the placenta was, indeed, abrupted. Her baby was cut off from all her nutrients, and on top of it, the umbilical cord was wrapped around her neck- leaving her literally unable to breathe. Noor had needed a blood transfusion, and her baby needed to be monitored in the NICU. Her husband was there for some time before disappearing, but for the first time ever, Noor didn’t care. All she could think about was her daughter. And all anyone insisted upon was that the baby would be fine, she was fine, and everything would be fine. She began to hate the word fine.
Then, finally, the time came. She was taken off the catheter and could move her body, as difficult as it was. A nurse brought in a wheelchair, and she was carefully helped into the seat. She had convinced her mother to go home and get some rest, and her husband was not around. But Noor didn’t care. At this moment, all that mattered was meeting her baby girl. She held her breath, feeling the pain radiating through her body as the nurse walked her to the elevator, and then up to the NICU wing. Unlike the individual hospital rooms like they had for adults, Noor found herself in a wing where there was one large room, with what seemed like cubicles separating each baby. Noor was wheeled to one on a right-hand corner. She was brought inside and wheeled towards the mattress. She said hello and thanked the NICU nurse who was taking care of her baby, and said goodbye to her own nurse, who said she would pick her up to go back down in a bit.
There she was— her beautiful little girl. “Hi, baby,” Noor spoke softly. “I’m your mama.” She looked at her daughter, all the wires and tubes attached to her just as they were in the photos. “Mommy, now that you’re a little more rested, you said you wanted to give her breast milk too, right?” Noor nodded, looking at the nurse with a smile. “I really wanted to breastfeed, and get skin-to-skin contact…” she trailed off. The nurse put a hand on her shoulder. “I know, you will get there soon. Right now, you can pump. And talk to her. She’s listening,” and Noor looked down at her baby.
There was a sharp knock on the door.A tall, slender woman walked in. “I’m Dr. Yalana, the neurologist. Mom, yes?” Noor nodded, eager to hear what the doctor had to say. She sighed, reading the charts. “I can’t sugar coat it for you, mama. She has been through a lot of trauma, so early in life. I can’t promise you everything is going to be perfect. She’s doing better than she was yesterday, I can tell you that. But she had a lot of trauma. She was not breathing, and there is… swelling, in her organs. That’s why she has to be on this, until her body is calmer. Once she is ready, we can perform more tests. Just hope for the best.” And she looked at Noor with a sympathetic smile, put the chart back in its place, and left.
It felt like Noor was just punched in the gut. Her mother, her family, the nurses, and even her gynecologist, had all insisted that all was fine and well. Noor should have known better. As she looked at her daughter, unable to hold her, she felt the tears come back again. They trickled down, slowly at first, only to flow uncontrollably. She sniffed as she started to feel her chest heaving in and out. Then, a tissue was held out in front of her. Noor looked at it, the nurse looking at her sadly. “She’ll be okay. She feels what you feel, you know? You have to be strong, for her.” And Noor closed her eyes, graciously taking the tissues and wiping her eyes and nose. “I’m going to let your nurse pick you up. You should rest,” she said gently. Noor thanked her and turned back to her daughter. “I’m sorry,” she said, gently rubbing her fingers on her baby’s
hand. Noor’s thumb was the size of her whole hand- she was so tiny. “But I’m going to be strong, for you. And we’re going to live a great and happy life. I promise you.”
“Okay, so we have a name?” a member of the hospital staff with forms for the birth certificate asked Noor, who was resting after visiting the NICU with some freshly pumped breast milk. They had been staying at the hospital for four days now, and Noor was getting discharged the next day. Her little one, however, was staying for longer. As much as Noor had tried to get a definitive answer from the doctors, all they could say was that her baby responded to her treatments well, she was doing better, but she was still in need of more testing. She was not feeding well, apparently, so she would need to be there for at least long enough to do that.
She thought back to her conversation earlier that day, with her husband. “Someone will be here today for us to sign the birth certificate,” she had told him impatiently. They had come once before already, and Noor told them she wanted to think about the name more when, in reality, she just wanted him to be there for it. “It’s fine, why are you always so dramatic about everything? We already have the name. All you’re doing is writing it on a piece of paper. Anyway, I need to go home to shower and rest,” He smiled, said goodbye to Noor and her mother, and left. Noor shook her head only slightly. As he went, she noticed his nice button-down shirt, his fresh clean jeans, and the designer sunglasses he perched on his head before walking away. She compared it to the old scarf she had thrown on before going to the hospital, the tired sweats, and even more tired eyes she had, exhausted between her breast pumping sessions and NICU visits.
Now, she turned back to the staff member in front of her. “Yes. We do.” “No daddy?” the woman asked with a kind but wary smile, handing Noor a pen and form. Noor smiled back at her. “No, just me.” And in a calm, unwavering hand, she wrote, “Amal Abdallah.”
***
