My mom was pregnant with my brother but she was having a very tough pregnancy. During the last trimester, seven months into her pregnancy, she was rushed to the Corniche Hospital, Sharjah.
After admitting her to the hospital, my father came to our school to pick up my sister and me. Unaware of what had happened in the previous hours, my sister even scolded my father for taking a wrong route to return home.
As it happened, we drove to the hospital and I remember asking my father if the baby was born. But we got no reply from him.
On hindsight, his silence was a symbol of his fear. Meanwhile as we walked to the ward, my sister and I were busy arguing as to who would pick up the baby first.
When we reached the ward, I remember my mother lying on the bed, looking alarmingly pale, with a clutch of wires attached to her body.
Her eyes were bloodshot – she had been crying. Suddenly words dried up. There was absolute silence. Something was terribly wrong.
My sister and I approached our mother and placed our palms on her stomach. My sister turned to me and we could read the same thought in each other's eyes – the baby had not been born yet.
Its heartbeat was very weak due to complications. We feared the worst for both of them. It was then that my mother, despite her extremely vulnerable condition, held us in her arms and said, "Everything will be OK. I promise."
A miracle followed. She was discharged a week later and although bedridden, she carried our brother to full term. On April 25, she gave birth to our brother – a healthy, chubby bundle of joy!
A week later, as we played with the newest member of our family, I remember my father saying to my mother: "I wish to be blessed to see all my children grow up and get married." My mom smiled and assured him, "God willing, he will also bless us to live to see our grandchildren..."
Eleven years later, I got married.
A year on, I too was rushed to the same Corniche Hospital, where my son Aadil was born. I smiled at the realisation that God had indeed fulfilled my parents' wishes.
Today, my son Aadil is a healthy six-year-old. He has a brother, four-year-old Aabid. And the lucky grandmother with her unbounded optimism and faith is grateful for every moment of happiness and for being blessed to have three naughty but healthy grandsons (my sister has a baby boy).
My greatest hope for my children is that they too will have that kind of faith and positivity in life. I often tell them of a promise made 19 years ago by their grandmother...
Hamriya Abdul Rahman is a Friday reader
