A dear soul who reads my blog reached out to me on Instagram and asked to speak… I listened to their story… To the story of their mother… Then they asked me to write their story from what they told me. Below is the fruit of it…
Am I a bad person? Is it cruel of me not to be able to love children you have brought to this world without me?
Loving you has made me wonder if I will ever earn my place in heaven… will I ever pray enough Salah to make up for the evil thoughts I get whenever I hear the cries of your newborn child? that came to this world without living in my womb.
I was never a girl who could watch a cow being slaughtered or a sheep being sacrificed in Arafat.
but you, and your love have made me someone I don’t know. Loving you has made me someone I can’t stand.
Don’t you see the pain you have caused me? don’t you see this color I have become?
The color of dust and if you blow on me I will fall to the ground and scatter like sand.
“Why don’t you leave him?” I am asked by loved ones when they see my swollen eyes from all the tears I have cried… and to be honest I don’t know the answer to that anymore… The first years when you married a second wife, I stayed because you promised to divorce her and I was too important for you.
But we have learned the hard way, that no amount of children to call you father was enough. And I stayed wife after wife, a new kid here and there… I was young and hopeful that I would be the last one standing. What I didn’t foresee is I would be standing in grief…
I had hoped that I was enough and I would birth you enough sons and you would eventually be loyal to me.
You wouldn’t let me go…
And I relayed too much on hope…
As the years went I started to get used to it. The news is carried in the wind, while I made dinner “he has a new wife” the wind whispers… And I shoo it away from my ears the way one shoos away a buzzing fly.
A day later while I am plucking tomatoes in the market to make your favorite meal. “He has a new son” I hear. No wonder I can’t recognize myself. You took my heart and turned it into a net. Full of holes made by sharp spears.
A spear for each shock news of my husband being someone’s groom. A spear for another newborn to carry my children’s father’s name. A spear for everytime you promised that was the last time… You won’t wife another one…
I waited for that last time to come as time flew by me. I have become old before my age.
You think that I am torn by jealousy perhaps you were right I used to be a Jealous woman… When I was young and full of pride.
I pray that I will earn my place in heaven my creator knows my heart and he knows my pain.
I don’t wish harm to anyone let alone your newborn child and new wife. I just pray for the Almighty to cover the holes in my heart with his mercy. So I may love again. To be able to love the woman I have become. So I may think kindly of those you bring to this world without me.