Allahuma Barik Laha / May Allah bless her
Before becoming a mother, I always believed with conviction I was meant to be a boy mom. A week before I found out I was pregnant, I had the most beautiful dream where I was breastfeeding a baby girl and I was so unbelievably happy and at peace. I woke up thinking, “that’s odd”, because I firmly believed without a doubt that when I fell pregnant some day (not knowing I already was), I would have a boy.
I thought I wanted a son, until I realised it was for the wrong reasons. I mostly wanted a son because men have it easier in the world. And because I wanted to raise a young man free of toxic masculinity, a man who makes women feel safe, heard, respected and truly seen because there are so few out there. I wanted a son because I wanted to contribute to a world where men hurt women less. But that whole desire to have a little boy came from a place of my own trauma and fear. For as long as I can remember – from male figures in my family, to friends and failed relationships – I have painfully taught enough boys to be men. I have apologised for enough men, been a playground for their weakness, their ego and cruelty. So God gifted me with a daughter. And while motherhood is no easy task, I am always tired, some days I can barely keep up and yet, she feels like rest. Being Z’s mom is the one place in my life where I am irreplaceable. She is a testament that His plan is always greater than mine, His timing is always better than mine, and He always knows what I need.
Photographed by Zizi’s very talented daddy.
