My Dear Son,
I had a little time to go down memory lane today.
I was thinking about the time you were admitted to hospital four days after you were born. You were born on a Thursday around 1:00 a.m. The hospital discharged us later that afternoon. The Monday we had to go in for a check-up and that’s when my fear became reality. They admitted you because you were underweight, dehydrated and not latching. I cried. Your daddy was not in town at the time. He was working hard in Oman, trying to secure a good life for you. I felt that I had failed you, as I watched you lay in the hospital cot, so helpless, so quiet. Just before then you were screaming. The stern nurse had said it sounded like a hungry cry. As I watched you, I recited to you, with tears in my eyes, relieved for the silence, yet worried and panicky at the same time. How helpless I felt. The nurse said it would just be a day or two that you’d have to stay at the hospital. It went on to more than that, and more and more, until a week. Your daddy became very worried and had to end his work contract to come home and see you for the first time. The doctors were trying to find out exactly why you had lost so much weight and why your yellow jaundice level was decreasing so slowly. They couldn’t find anything, and you were still not latching, but not screaming as much at the breast (so we were getting there, I knew it). Eventually, they discharged you with follow-up visits and tests (eye test, brain test, hearing test). Alhamdulilah, the results were always excellent. As the days went, you would sometimes latch slightly. You eventually got the latching perfectly, Alhamdulilah. It only took about a month of persistence. Alhamdulilah, we got through the long days in hospital. You are just proof to the medical world, and everyone else, that not everything can be logically explained. Some things are left entirely to Allah, Most Merciful. Our brave little soldier you are. Alhamdulilah.