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UPDATED post: Meeting a Baby for the first time

5/2017 Yaseen is now a sensitive and brilliant 8 year old. He is a young man who is taking care of his mother, and is her best friend. I remember this first meeting with Yaseen as a baby, and how overcome I was with emotion. In April 2015, when I was expecting Fatima,  I got a call from my dear friend about her impending divorce with Yaseen's father. It was just yesterday that I met this little baby who is now the man of his house. They live in Boston, and I hope to visit them one day. I call her, and ask about Yaseen once a month. I also sent her a birthday gift last year, when I remembered what it would feel like to be in her position. Our relationships are disappointing and fulfilling at the same time, and the wisdom in these early journal entries amazes me. There is so much for me to learn, now in my 30s, and so much for my young daughter to learn. My dear friend has not yet met my daughter, given the whirlwind of her life. I remember the nights when I was nursing Fatima, the weeks after coming home, I would console my friend, and encourage her that it was for the best, that God had a plan for her and Yaseen. I stayed up with her crying in the phone, and my baby Fatima crying in my arms because of her colic.  It was as if my life was "starting" and somehow her life felt like it was ending. It was such a powerful moment in my life, and I thanked God for my husband and for staying on the straight path. I finally realized how hard that is to do. I miss Yaseen, too, and hope he is healthy, happy, and grows up to be the light of his mother's eyes.

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2/15/09 This weekend was the best of Valentines. I rediscovered love, love like i could not imagine between strangers. I met Yaseen, my friend Muniba's three month old baby. He was delightful, quiet and sleeping soundly as the masjid bustled with people at their weekly potluck dinner and discussion. When he woke up, he was passed from one person to the next, and still he made no objections. His ample cheeks, ivory colored skin, his defined nose, and dimpled chin all suggested the making of a beautiful child, mash'Allah.

The presence of purity, innocence reminded me of God. I could only think how God had given my friend the best kind of gift; one that gets better with time. I guess some friendships are like that too; they mature and grow with time. They grow as you grow, they become more complex, and disappointing and fulfilling with time. Babies-they are something else entirely. I think the only preparation I had to meet Yaseen was that I am a woman and I had an immediate desire to protect this child from harm from the evil of the world. I wanted him to know no discomfort, or unease. I wanted only the best for him. I wanted only the best for his parents so that they would be there for him. It was so strange for me to feel so emotional as a result of meeting this baby. I looked at him and thought of Mohamed, how he may have looked like that as a baby. No idea how I made that connection.

This was clearly my first interaction with a newborn baby. This is as close I have ever gotten to a child so new in the world. And this is the fatest I have fallen in love. It was so easy. I just had to hold him and I could feel my heart fill with peace.

Valentine's Day is a day to celebrate the romantic love that couples feel, romantic love between married and unmarried individuals, boyfriends and girlfriends who will inevitably break up, between friends who stumble upon love like idiots in the dark. Valentine's Day is also a day that glorifies the relationships of people who owe each other nothing. It glorifies illicit love and makes dating, casual sex, and infatuation as a marker of good times. I have not been a fan of Valentine's Day. I find myself losing more interest in the day, and the other days that lead up to my anniversaries.

Yaseen let me feed him. When he didnt want me, he pushed my hand away. He stopped drinking and started to listen intently to his father who did a presentation on love and dating at the masjid. He recognized his father's voice so clearly.

I wish I would listen to my own voice. I wish I listened to my conviction and my heart. I wish I listened more intently. My first reaction was negative and then my brain took over and overwrote my initial assessment. How incredible!

To have that kind of clarity and direction, that is also an incredible thing. I couldnt stop staring at the baby and feeling the pain in my nose before I start tearing. I kept talking to him in bangla and realized how important my mother tongue is to my consciousness. I need to learn Bangla and Arabic and refresh my Spanish. I need to learn web design. I need to take my GREs. There is a lot of things to do. I wish I only had one task: to take care of a baby.

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