The Umbilical Cord
All I remember is that for a second, I stopped breathing, and then cut the umbilical cord.
That was six years ago. An unforgettable experience for me.
I had never met her and only remembered her husband, my husband’s cousin as a young lad from years ago, but there was an instant familiarity and warmth when they came to stay with us, for the delivery of their third child, only a couple of weeks before the due date.
On the big day, as she was about to be wheeled inside the operation theatre, the nurse asked the husband, but he turned instead, looked at me and said “Shamsa Apa, would you like to go in with her?”
I could not believe the words! It was like God was directly answering my prayers. I hadn’t told them but I was extremely anxious for her health as it was her third C section and she had travelled and flown long distance towards the very end of the last trimester.
It wasn’t the first time I was going to go in to the delivery room with a woman. Years earlier, I had taken another friend in the middle of night to the hospital for which turned out to be false pains, stayed with her in the prepped up room, taken her back and then hours later, again driven her back to the hospital for the actual delivery, since her husband was out of town. I had held her hands throughout her more than a day long labor pains, reciting Quran verses for her, forgetting my own loved ones and was still praying for her when only half an hour before the delivery, husband had reached the hospital and I decided to leave to be with her children at her home.
She had wanted me to be there with her at the exact moment but it was not God’s plan. I confess that although I wanted to be there for the moment of birth, part of me was too scared. I had two children of my own by that time, but I was still young and shy, and very conscious of not to breach her modesty. I was afraid that I’d be too embarrassed to be there in the room for the normal delivery proceedings, so in a way, I felt that God answered my fears. The mother used to call the child partially my child due to the bond developed during that experience between us.
At that time of my life, I was just starting out teaching at our local Islamic Center, a responsibility which happened to just fall into my lap, without planning, but which consumed my life as I tried to learn, prepare and come up with ways to teach the young ones. It was a grave duty and nothing else was important to me than my commitment to it. My social life was next to nil in those days, hence despite the newly born’s family’s efforts, I couldn’t keep in touch once they moved out of town and lost their number as it wasn’t permanently saved. I have never forgotten that child or the mother and yearn to see them with all my heart.
So, this time, when the husband asked me, my Heart just melted. God knew that not only I cared for this young couple, their yet to be born child, but was also reliving those previous moments and old experience.
I was much relieved to see a sheet drawn around her neck which blocked the view of the rest of her body from me. Years had lapsed but I was still (and am) very conscious of other people’s modesty.
Deep in my prayers, I had no idea of what was going on around me, as all my focus and eyes were on her. Only when afterwards, my (and now hers) obstetrician asked what was it that I was reciting, saying that it was very beautiful and had a profound calming effect, did I realize that I was saying the verses of Quran out loud.
My trance was broken when the doctor called out and asked me if I’d like to cut the umbilical cord. I wanted to and was content at holding the mother’s hand, praying and being with her in the moment. I hadn’t in my remotest thoughts, envisioned cutting the cord. I don’t remember what I mumbled or did not. All I remember is the scissor in my hand and then cutting the cord!
The moment!
It’s etched in my memory. I can not describe it in words. All I wanted was to weep, prostrated down to Almighty and never get up from gratitude and His praises. That moment was like epiphany of the ultimate truth, of insignificance, of mortality, of power, ...., of life.
That child is not mine by blood or any direct relationship, yet I have an invisible, unbreakable and solid bond with him, just like I have with another one, born years earlier but about whom I have no idea where he is. It doesn’t matter in some way if I know or not, because, this bond is what matters. This bond is a beautiful blessing because it makes me pray each time I think of them.
(Shamsa Anwar)
