To all the mothers out there that lost a child, you're strong and in sha Allah the almighty has something better in store for you✨❤️

JAWAHIR

Do I count as a mother when my body never gave birth, when my child never drew a breath on this earth.
Do I count as mother when my belly never grew, when I never heard your heartbeats or your cries the whole night through.
Do I count as a mother when you don't even have a name, never knowing if you were a boy or a girl, no one understands this pain. Please let me count as a mother.

I never got to hold you or bounce you on my lap. I never got to watch you as you nap. You slipped away so quickly and I want the world to know, I love you just the same.

***

I closed the notebook and pushed it aside. I don't know how to express my emotions right now so I decided to write them down, a tip my therapist once gave me. I never used it but I'm glad I did now, I feel a little bit better. I'm not ready to talk about it with anyone yet because right now it hurts a little too much.

Some people feel they don't have a right to grieve for their lost baby, if the loss happened in early pregnancy. But the truth is everyone has the right to grieve and grieving isn't even a choice we make, it's an essential part of healing a broken heart.

I pulled my crutches to help me stand up at the same time Ya Fifi walked in. "Jawahir!" She scolded and kept the pile of clothes she was holding. "How many times do I have to tell to stop trying to stand up on your own? You know you're not supposed to, because of your ribs." She huffed and placed me on the wheel chair. I hate this wheel chair with a passion.

"Thank you Ya Fifi," I smiled. She returned the smile and walked around to push me. I quickly held the wheels. "I will do it." I heard her hiss under her breath. "You will never change," she said and left the room. She's mad, I sighed. Ya Fifi is a pediatric nurse, she's always helping, so whenever I refuse her help she gets angry.

I released a breath and wheeled myself outside. I met Mama and Mammie in the family room watching Tv, they're watching Nat Geo, uhm no thanks. Mammie looked up when she heard the sound of my wheels. "Habibty do you need anything?" I shook my head. "No, I'm just tired of sitting down inside alone."

I wheeled myself to the end of the room but someone pushed me to the middle. I turned my neck to see Suhayl. "Hey munchkin."

I glared at him. Suhayl raised his hands in surrender. "Sorry," Just then his twin walked in covered in flour from head to toe, holding a plate. My eyes bulged out, what did she do?

"No, no," Mama stopped her from stepping in. "Don't enter this living room, Suhayla what did you do?" Suhayla pouted her lips. "I-I baked cookies."

I used my palms to close my mouth, to stifle the laughter threatening to escape. I can see Mammie and Mama trying to do the same, but Suhayl being the insensitive person he is stared laughing hysterically, he even bent down, holding his stomach.

"What on earth made you think you can bake?" He asked in between laughter. "Leave that to the experts, please." He added looking at me. Suhayla looked like she's about to cry, she hurriedly walked up the stairs.

I turn to look at Suhayl. "That wasn't nice and you know that. I too had to begin somewhere, you should have at least commend her efforts. Now look, you've hurt her feelings."

"Jawahir is right, what you did was wrong Suhayl," Mama agreed with me. "Let me check on her."

Suhayl grimaced, looking down sheepishly. He feels bad now. He left the living room completely.

"How are you feeling, love?" Mammie inquired, lovingly her face full of concern and care. I smiled at my dearest mother. "I'm feeling better Mammie, aside from the discomfort in my ribs."

"Alhamdulillah," she whispered. Just then a salam was said and a few number of people walked in, our neighbors. They have been living in the neighborhood for nearly two decades now, although they met my parents here. They're very one large family, an extended family.

The ones present right now are the wife, Mrs Jamila, her three daughters in laws and her daughter, who's around my age. "Good afternoon," I greeted with a strained smile.

"Ahh Jawahir how are you feeling?" I feigned a smile and said 'I'm fine.' They exchanged pleasantries with Mammie and Mama who walked a few minutes after they did. A maid walked in holding a tray of soft drinks, cups and small chops, she placed the tray on the table in front of them.

Mrs Jamila turned her attention to me. "I heard of the tragic event that happened, may Allah SWT make it all better for you and your husband." A bunch of 'ameen(s)' were murmured.

"Well you're young and can get pregnant again, I mean you're just starting right?" She asked, but it wasn't really a question. "And at least you didn't get to know the baby, so you weren't really attached the ba—

"Your son got a job at the Nigerian Railway Corporation, congratulations." Mama said out of nowhere.

"Ahh yes, he did..." And the bragging began, Mama has successfully stirred the conversation away from me.

Well you're young and can get pregnant again, I mean you're just starting right? And at least you didn't get to know the baby, so you weren't really attached the baby.

Is she trying to console or mock me? This comment she made is hurtful rather than helpful. At least you weren't attached to the baby. Is that supposed to make me feel better? I lost a part of myself that I'll never get back again, ever. You're just starting. I mentally scoffed, people need to chew their words before spewing out nonsense.

I felt sick to the T, so I excused myself and wheeled back to the temporary room I'm staying in. I let the tears I've been holding fall, people are so insensitive wallahi.

***

Later that day, Suhayla walked, now dressed in a simple skirt and blouse she sewed herself. "Hey sister!" She said plopping down on the bed, beside me. "Hey Hayla, how are you feeling?"

"How am I feeling? Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?" I rolled my eyes. My sister has a habit of brushing off her feelings, like they mean nothing. "Hayla!" I said a bit sternly.

She looked up and saw the look I was sending her way. She sighed. "It's fine Jaw, I was just being an emotional fool." See! Totally brushing it off.

"Suhayla, talk to me. What really happened?"

"I don't want to burden you with my stupid, irrelevant problem. Especially now."

"What happened now? I'm okay, you can talk to me. You're being hypocritical, you know that." Suhayla turned her face away. "You always tell me you're ready to listen to my problems, I can come to you whenever I want. Then why can't you do the same Suhayla?"

"It's stupid, really Jawjaw." I harrumphed. "I don't care, I want to hear it. Common Suhayla, I know you want to talk about it, that I'm sure of so go on." I insisted.

My sister sighed in defeat and turned to face me, I grinned, triumph. "Okay, so I overheard Ayman telling Affan he wants to eat Anty Jawjaw's gingerbread cookies but he can't because she's ill and he's sad about it. He said, 'I really want my Auntie's cookies.' I figured I'm also his aunt, so why don't I make it for him. I flipped through the recipe book you always keep in the kitchen and got to work. I tried, the key word being tried but I failed, horribly. It didn't look like a cookie one bit, it was so black like charcoal, I burned it. So I came to show you, hoping you'd teach me but what happened, happened. I know I shouldn't have let what Suhayl said get to me like that, but I was already feeling like a failure, I couldn't bake simple cookies for my nephew and what he said didn't help." She concluded with a deep sigh. "See, I told you, totally stupid."

"Hayla, it's not stupid. I'm glad you told me." I placed my hand in top of hers that's lying on her laps. "Do you still want to learn?"

"What?"

"The gingerbread cookies, do you still want to learn how to make it?"

"Of course I want you, if you'd teach me." She beamed.

"Of course, I will. Let's go." I said. "Wait, right now?" I nodded. "Yeah or do you have something to do?" She shook her head and stood up. I grabbed my crutches, one movement and my ribs cried. Ya Allah! I sat back down to catch my breath. I looked up at my sister.

"Suhayla?" I called. "Yes Jawahir?" She replied. "Help me?" Suhayla smiled. "I thought you'd never ask."

Suhayla placed me on the wheelchair and I let her push me. This is the first time I'm stepping into the kitchen since I returned, I closed my eyes and savor the smell of my personal heaven.

"Let's get started," I said rubbing my palms. "Yes!" Suhayla squealed enthusiastically. That's a first, I never knew she wanted to learn so bad.

I instructed her to watch her hands first and I did too. "Should I grab the recipe book?"

"Nah," I waved my hands dismissively as I racked my brain for the simplest gingerbread cookies I could think of. Bingo! "Okay Hayla, we will need the following 3–

"Wait!" Hayla suddenly exclaimed. "What?" I asked. "Lemme get a pen and a paper," I gaped at her. Seriously. "What for?" I rolled my eyes. "To write things down obviously," she rolled her eyes. "don't give me that look Mrs, you and I aren't the same. You're an expert and I'm a beginner, literally I'm just beginning."

"Whatever." I rolled my eyes. "Okay while you're at it, get the equipment and tools we will need."

"Like what?" She asked while rummaging through the drawer. I rolled my eyes yet again. "Get the measuring tools, hand mixer, hand whisk, a large and medium bowls, rolling pin, baking sheet, parchment paper, biscuits cutter and plastic wrap. I guess that's it, yup that's it."

"Okay, everything is here."

"Right, we will need: 3/4 cups of softened butter, 3/4 cups of packed brown sugar, 2/3 cups of molasses, 1 large egg, 1 teaspoon of pure vanilla extract, 3 1/4 cups of all purpose flour, 1 tablespoon of ground ginger, 1 teaspoon of baking soda, 1 teaspoon of ground cinnamon, 1/2 teaspoon of ground cloves, 1/2 teaspoon of kosher salt—

"—wait, wait. Hold on. What's the difference between kosher salt and regular salt?" Suhayla interrupted.

"The main difference between regular salt and kosher salt is the structure of the flakes. Chefs find that kosher salt—due to it's large flakes— is easier to pick with your fingers and spread over food. However, kosher salt is less likely to contain additives like anti-caking agents and iodine." I explained, with the little knowledge I have.

"Hmm," my student nodded in understanding. "Okay continue."

"1/4 teaspoon of ground nutmeg. And....that's it, for now. Okay," I clapped. "Get everything and place it on the work station." I wheeled myself to the kitchen island as I wait for Suhayla to set up everything.

"Okay done! Everything is here, let's get to work." I chuckled at her enthusiasm. "Step one! Should I dictate it the way you'll understand or should I say it properly that anybody would be able to use it."

"The latter," Suhayla chose. "Okay then, In a large bowl using a hand mixer, beat butter, brown sugar and molasses until fluffy for about two minutes," I paused and wait for her to do as she was told then she picked up Her pen and paper. "Hayla? Why don't you leave that, I'll write the recipe down for you later."

"Okay," she agreed after hesitating for a few seconds. "But continue to dictate it in a professional way, it makes me feel like an actual student in an actual catering school."

I laughed, rolling my eyes heavenward but didn't say anything. "Still on step one, "Add egg and vanilla, beat until combined." Suhayla turned on the mixer and beat in a clockwise direction until it combined, she showed me and it's perfect.

"Moving on to step two, in a medium bowl, add flour, spices, baking soda and salt whisk until combined. Turn on the mixer, and gradually add the dry ingredients; the ones you just whisked, into the wet one. Steadily, don't over mix."

I cranked my neck up to see what she's doing. "That's enough, it's okay now. Wow Hayla, not bad."

My sister grinned, proud of herself. "Then divide the dough into two, wrap each in plastic wrap and we'll let it chill for two to three hours."

Suhayla cut the dough in half and created two disk, then she carefully placed it in the freezer. "What next?"

"We wait," I replied. "Why don't we go watch a movie on Netflix, to while away time?" She suggested. I nodded eagerly. "Let's go."

She wheeled me to my room before exiting, about five minutes later she came back with her MacBook, popcorn and chocolates. I couldn't help but grin. We watched.

Surprisingly, nobody came check on us. I wonder were everyone is, it's like we're the only people in the house. Two hours later, we were back in the kitchen. The dough is looking nice and well formed. "Preheat the oven to 350 degrees." I instructed.

After she did that, I asked her to line the baking sheets with parchment paper, which she couldn't. I had to carefully show her how to. "Dust the surface with flour and start rolling,"

"No, not that way." I showed her the perfect way to do, I was able to because she's now working on a makeshift work surface just the right height for me on a wheel chair.

"Then I cut out the gingerbread men with a cutter and transfer to baking sheets." Suhayla said in a proud voice. "Yup," I raised my hand for a high five which she eagerly slapped.

"Bake for nine to ten minutes, until slightly puffed. Let cool on a baking sheet for five minutes before transferring to a cooling rack to cool completely. Then you repeat the process for the other disc." I said the last instruction. "I'm leaving you on your own, I need to take a bath. Let me go look for Mammie."

"See you, not afraid to ask for help." Suhayla teased.

I didn't say anything and wheeled myself to my room. I used the intercom to phone Mammie. Ever since the accident, I didn't see my phone. I concluded it was complete destroyed.

My mother walked in with a smile on her face, that smile seems very odd. What could be the reason behind her good mood? She washed me up and wrapped me in a big fluffy towel. My face as usual is beetroot, I always tell her to set everything up for me and leave, I mean my hands are very capable but the stubborn woman wouldn't listen. A full grown woman bathed by her mother, but Mammie says even I'm old and wrinkly I'll always be her baby.

I now wore a cotton skirt and blouse with a jacket, the weather is a bit chilly, it looks like it's going to rain. "Mammie you've been smiling to yourself ever since you walked in, is there something I should know?"

"Am I not allowed to be happy again?"

"Of course not, you have every right to be happy. Keep being happy ammi alghaliati; mother dearest."

"Okay okay," she sighed and turned to look at me. My mother looks very happy and vibrant, her eyes are literally twinkling, it made her look younger than her age. "Your uncle, Mukarram might come to Nigeria next month, that's why I'm so happy. I want to see my brother and his family."

"Oh wow, that's amazing Mammie. Allah kawo su lafiya." I prayed, she smiled softly and said 'Ameen.' I gestured for my mother to come closer, she looked at me questionably but did as she was told. I cupped her cheeks and kissed her forehead. Mammie raised her head to look at me tenderly, she cupped my face and returned the favor.

Mammie left and I wheeled myself to the kitchen. My mom was just telling me that three of my elder sisters have gone shopping, they should really return to their various husband's home.

Shouldn't you too?

Suhayla did a wonderful job, the gingerbread cookies came out perfectly. I wonder how she messed it up the first time since I didn't really do anything, all did was the dictating.

"Who were you talking to on the phone?" I asked with a smirk. When I walked in earlier she was on a phone call and was whispering I miss you(s) to the person on the other side.

Suhayla looked at me with widened eye. I nodded, yup I heard. "No one," she said, all flustered. "You sure?" I pressed and she nodded eagerly. I didn't insist further. "In tayi tsami ma ji." (now I don't know how to translate this, someone help)

"Should we ice the gingerbread cookies?" Suhayla shot me a dirty look. "Is that even a question?" I giggled, a little. I made the icing and I let her decorate it. She has always been good with pen so piping wouldn't be a problem, I have to say I am impressed with the result.

"How did you burn it the first time? I mean I didn't do anything, I just dictated." My sister shrugged, she's busy snapping pictures of the cookies.  She placed the cookies on my lap and we moved to the living room. Our sisters and mothers are in there, Abu is yet to return.

Suhayl picked the tray. "Look I made this!" She bragged. Ya Fifi looked at the tray then at Suhayla then the tray again. "Are you sure?" She questioned skeptically. "Wallah, ask Jaw."

I nodded my head. "I didn't do anything." Ya Nana chuckled. "Suhayla an girma; Suhayla has grown up."

My immediate elder sister smiled, feeling proud of her self. She kept aside some for the kids—whom I have no idea where they are— then started distributing the rest around. Her twin walked in, his eyes lit up when he saw the cookies and stretched his hands to pick one but Suhayla smacked it away.

"Why did you do that?" He asked incredulously. "I made 'em and you aren't eating 'em." Suhayl laughed nervously. "Oh common Hayla." Suhayla turned her head the other way, away from him. "I'm sorry."

The other twin walked away. "You're just saying sorry because you want to eat my cookies, no worries apology accepted but you're still not gonna eat any."

Ya Farha chuckled at their banter. "Please mana Hayla." Suhayla shook her head twice, "I'm no expert," she said air quoting the word expert. "so would you wanna eat them." She ran up the stairs and he followed her whining and begging. Typical Suhayl.

Ya Nana, Ya Fifi and Ya Farha started telling our moms about their day. One way or the other, the conversation stirred to my sisters' pregnancy. Ya Farha kept beaming and gushing. I can't wait to do that, or do this....which is a first because she's always reserved. Not long after Ya Fifi joined. "Oh I hope we give birth on the same day, so they would be twins like their fathers." Firdaus exclaimed. We have an open relationship with our mothers, so we are never hesitant to share anything with them, one might think it's disrespectful, them gushing about their first pregnancy openly but we are that comfortable with them.

I couldn't stand the talk anymore. Don't get me wrong I'm happy for them, so very happy but it feels like they are purposely rubbing it on my face. Ohh look we're still pregnant and you're not. I didn't even get to be happy about mine, the day I knew of it existence by that time I've already lost that special someone.

"We went for an ultrasound. The doctor said the baby's fingers and toe are well defined. Eyelids, eyebrows, eyelashes, nails and hair are formed, and bones are becoming denser. The baby can even such his or her thumb, yawn and even stretch. A—"

"WE GET IT!" I finally snapped. It as if they didn't know of my presence and I startled them. Of course they wouldn't know I'm here, why would they? I have no idea on what they're talking about, I've never experienced it after all. "We get that you're pregnant. I get it, okay? I GET IT." I wheeled myself away as fast as I could. Curse this wheelchair, curse this stupid cast, arrrgh!

"Jawahir wait," Farha called, I think someone held her back. "Wallahi Mammie, we had no idea she was still there, I thought she left with Suhayla. I didn't mean to make her feel that way."

I banged the door and wheeled to the side of the bed, my ribs are aching. I'm useless, I can't even place myself on the bed. I feel so useless, my body couldn't even protect the baby. I'm so useless, why did I drive away that night? This is all my fault. I'm so useless, so useless. That's why nobody wants me, even the baby left me, so did my husband.

I cried into my palms, I cried hard. Ya Allahu, ya Rabb make it easy on me, please Allah.

A pair of sinewy arms lifted me up and I was placed on someone's laps, I can recognize that scent anywhere, everywhere. The person is sitting on the bed, leaned against the headboard with me on his laps. "Shh," he cooed softly into my ears. "I'm here now, everything will be fine in sha Allah. Have faith." He patted my back lovingly.

It's like my lacrimal gland was asked to produce more tears, they kept gushing nonstop. I don't know maybe it's was in a moment of weakness, I burrowed my head to that person chest and cried my heart out.

Right before I fell asleep, I heard it.

"Ana ohbuki Tesoro."

Hello 👋

How are you guys? I hope we're fine.

I don't even know anymore. I feel like I haven't really captured what it's like, and I cannot💔 I obviously don't know how it feels to have a miscarriage nor have I ever sat down with a person that went through that tragedy.
I just hope I did it, a little bit of justice🙏🏼

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Oh and before I leave, let me recommend a book, books actually for y'all. It's what I've been reading, finished them in three days. Are you tried of the same ole cliche love story and want something refreshing? Romantic but with the right dose of reality in it, check out Arrows and Anchors by ReeReverie  I'm pretty sure you are not going to regret it, that I can promise.

And do you want a mystery and thriller that will keep you on your toes, with your heart pumping and adrenaline rushing? Check out the sequel of A&A called The Darkest Target. Mind you it's not lighthearted, at all! It's very exhilarating and refreshing from the same ole romance.  It's a roller coaster of emotions. You'd be happy, sad, anxious, angry, frustrated, you'd laugh, get paranoid, you'll be on your toes at some point you'd want to hop into that screen and do something! 😂😭 Wallah. You don't want to miss out on the Arrows and Anchors series. ReeReverie is an outstanding writer, believe me. Her hands are absolutely blessed. The books are eloquently written. ReeReverie Ree! You're amazing, I hope you haven't forgotten. I love you, endlessly❤️❤️🏹

Yours truly
Memzyb✨🌹