I just have to say…

I have spent 11 years in the US. Interesting years. Years filled with some good such as the birth of my 2 youngest sons and years filled with bad such as the death of my oldest son yet in all the time that I have been here.I have learned how to depend on first Allah and then myself because I realised a long time ago that noone was really going to take care of me but Allah and myself.

It worked well for a long time. It really did. People imagine a sister with 4 kids walking around in rags, despondant and lost but honestly thats just not how it was for me. I always strove to make sure that my children were happy primarily. That was my first and ultimate motivation. I sought khula when I saw that the man that I was with…wasnt going to be a benefit for my children. The majority of brothers that I met or spoke to regarding marriage used to always insist that I sent my children to their father when and if I got married. That just wasnt going to happen so I didnt get married.

I made a lot of mistakes in these years. Some that are known and others hidden by Allah but I will never regret one thing that I did and that is retreiving my children from my ex husband when he first took them back in 1999. You see, back then, he always wanted his sons with him. He felt that as a women with children it would be harder for me to get remarried. He was right and he was wrong. I took my children back and I dont think he ever really understood why I did it but I didnt do it to protect them from him. I did it for myself. I couldnt imagine life without my sons close to me.

I dont regret that choice because I know that it was the right choice.

If the choice was offered to go back, get married to a good brother and leave my sons with their father. Wallahi I would rather suffer the hardships that I have just because knowing my son ..even for such a short time taught me more than I can possibly hope to learn about being easy and patient.

I struggled(yes), at times depended on the kindness of the muslims(yes) but I also spent 14 of the best years with my son Haarith. Noone can take that from me. Had he been with his father in another land…I wouldnt have been able to kiss my son one last time. I wouldnt have been able to hug him and hear his last breath slip out of his throat. I wouldnt have been able to throw dirt onto of his box. I wouldnt have been able to tell him goodbye for the last time because he would have been in another land. 

Subhan Allah. No I dont regret a thing.If all of the last 14 years with my son was hurtling towards that moment at 3pm on the 11th of March…I wouldnt change one iota at all.

So for those people that come to my blog hoping to find more fuel  for the fire ..know this.

My reasons for this blog was never supposed to be about anyone other than myself. Me. A Woman with 4 sons raising them alone. That’s all. Anyone else thats mentioned is mentioned because they were part of my life. Thats it.

My son never had any real animosity towards anyone and that included his father. He was “whatever” . Thats what he said to me when I asked him about how he felt and I told my son often stories about his father and him. Stories where his father used to come into the home in London and call for me to bring Al-Haarith so the brothers could see him. How his father complimented me on the way that I dressed his son and said “you always make sure he looks good”. I told Alhaarith about the time that I thought someone had burgled my old house in Croydon and kidnapped them both. I told him how his father used to sit and memorize his khutbahs as he sat in his baby chair gurgling. I  told him how his father ran to me to look at him sleeping. He was so proud that he had “read” his son to sleep. Thats what I told Alhaarith and that was enough for him. And honestly? As long as his brothers and I were ok..so was he. 

 I have learned that its better to leave things to Allah.For myself. For my complaints. For my oppression. For My sons. I prefer to leave all that to Allah because at the end of the day every single morning I wake up with the knowledge that my son is gone. And nothing can change that. The pen has lifted as relates to my sons deeds and what relationship I or anyone had with him.

So when you come here and read about my pain. When you look at your own children and hug them closer. Please consider that your agenda may only serve to give me more pain. It was my child that died. Alhamduliah it wasnt yours.

Umm Al-Haarith

Did I do enough?

 

Its one of those times where I spent the night awake. Some nights are like that. Its the quiet lonely times that seem to get at me the most and I was thinking about some of the good times that I spent with my son.

I looked at the sky and I saw it was the fajr and I was so happy. One that I made it through the night and the other reason was that I imagined the daylight passing over my sons grave. It really made me smile. As a mother one of the things that I always did was make sure that my children were well. I would go into their room and go to each other them laying asleep and listen for their breathing. I would then kiss them and tell them that I loved them. Every single night for as long as I can remember I did this. 

The realisation that I will never have my sons tall sauntering figure come towards me with his arms outstretched is very hard. You have to understand that Haarith was nearly 6ft tall and 177 lbs when he died. He was on his way to being a tall one. I used to look at his feet and marvel at how big they were (He was 10.5!). I used to marvel at him and his growth but at the same time I used to worry. Some of my worries were normal but because of the life that I have lead…some of my worries were different.

Raising boys alone can be hard. I cant lie and Ill be the first to admit that my emaan dropped to its lowest during my time in the US. A combination of painful experiences with other muslims, failed marriages and general laziness all contributed to the demise of my emaan but I always believed in Allah. I used to say that I was blessed and I still feel that I have been . In spite of the fact that my son was returned to Allah. There was nothing that I wouldnt do for my sons. Nothing that I wouldnt try to do for my sons. 

Whatever they want. I will and did do my best to help them but there were times that I couldnt do anything. I remember when I was in Florida after I got divorced reliant on the muslims charity. It was a humiliating time but I was surrounded by those that cared for me as a person and human being. The masjid gave $500 to a sister who put me and my 3 in a room. It was a small room with a full size bed but all 4 of us made it work. I had married an egyptian brother from New Jersey who used to send me money to help me feed my children. Those are from the blessings that I feel I have had. This brother was not the father of my children …yet he sent me his ATM card and I would tell him what I needed. He bought diapers for another mans child and he was not living with me. That was from the blessings that I had from Allah. My son never complained. Never did he ask me where his father was or why we were in this room. He looked at me with true security. He knew that Ummi wouldnt let anything happen to him. 

I remember decorating his room in London/ He loved planes and trains so thats what he had. I can still see it in my eyes. He had a beautiful pine wood bed. A matching curtain and bed spread set. I did anything for him. I remember buying him a Gap jacket that cost 50 uk pounds. That was the (then) equivalent of spending $100! Al Haarith was taken care of. I made sure of that. Things changed in the US. Money got tight. Life became rugged but I always did what I could for him. Even before his death. He wanted DC sneakers, In NYC these skater brand shoes are sought after. I never wanted my kids to get into name brands but I always bought them good shoes and sneakers because I wanted their feet to grow properly. The day the DC’s came in the mail…Haarith was sooo happy. I never forget that smile and how he loved those sneakers. Id do anything for him, Just before he died  told him I was going to give him my laptop for high school. I was already planning on buying his high school wardrobe. It was my newest project. Thats kinda how life is for me a lot of times. Trying to make an omelete with powdered eggs. 

Anyways I had plans for him…plans that no longer have any place to go. I guess the point that Im trying to make is that I always tried to do for my sons so when I ask the question..did I do enough? The answer is yes yes yes. I did. I sacrificed for him and he knew it. He appreciated it. He told me he wanted to buy me a house when he was older. 

If only you knew the boy that I knew…did I do enough for him? Yes I did Walhamdulillah

Snapshots (3)-White Thobe and Red Roses.

July 2000 

 

He knocked the door  and I nervously opened it. There he was dressed in the whitest thobe…his hair freshly cut…holding the biggest bunch of roses that Id ever seen.

Id never been given flowers in my life so to see him there looking so enticing…so handsome in that thobe with the contrast of those red roses….just made me lose my breath.

I felt so shy. Id wore a short skirt. Wed got married over the phone after our initial meeting. I really liked this brother. He flew all the way from New Jersey to meet me in Florida for one day. One day. Who did that back then? To fly all the way to meet me. I had three kids. I was stil raw from my divorce but he wanted me. And I wanted him back.

He was a serious brother. Serious. Arab. Handsome. Hood. Sooo hood. So gentle. Masha Allah. I dont think Ill ever find a man that was as good to me in that short few months as he was.

The first brother who didnt see me as a burden with my three.

Wasnt intimidated by the specter of an ex husband.

Fed-exed me his ATM card so that I could withdraw money to buy another man’s son pampers. Got mad at me for taking too much. Called me every day. I missed him soo much.

I told him that we should separate. I was 25. He was 22. I felt like a burden. I wanted him to be with someone who could give him firsts. Their first child. Their first everything.

I guess I was stil too raw to appreciate what I had in that man.I was Super Salafee Sister. I thought he was deviant for liking Salman and Safar. He wanted me to wear sneakers with my jilbab. I thought it was haraam. We spent too much time bickering on matters of aqeedah and manhaj. He called me a Salafee clone. I called him a Suroori. My “friends” thought Id lost it. How could I marry someone who liked Salman Al Oudah? Back then….it was crazy. We separated on points of manhaj not points of personality.

He was my snapshot of 2000. Eight years ago. Hes probably married with beautiful kids. I make dua for him all the time. He deserved the best because he was one of the best.

Hey…who said all my snapshots were bitter?

Marriage 90’s Styling

Do you know how hard it is to move on from a bad relationship? It has to be one of the hardest , most unrewarding things in the world. I was doing a bit of self reflection today and thinking about why a bad relationship can dictate the kind of people we end up on being. Im sure youve heard the old saying that a woman can get hurt over and over and bounce on back but hurt a man and Lord Have Mercy every one has to pay for the crime of that first heartache.Whether thats right or wrong..Its damn hard moving on from a bad relationship. So often you lose yourself in the process and accumulate yet another bag of broken trusts, memories and insecurities. Its even worse when you have children.In Islam when a marriage breaks down the children are supposed to go to the father when the mother gets remarried and/or the children get old enough. This makes perfect sense to me because its always harder for a man to accept another mans children than it is for a woman. Its more natural for a woman to connect with someones elses children than for a man. When I became a practicing muslim..one of the biggest fears that sisters had was losing their children. It was the ultimate threat to quiet the nagging wife. Noone wanted to lose their kids and everyone believed that the man was serious. If they divorced then he was taking his kids. In those times we were all married…first wives, second wives and so on and so forth.

Looking back I see that was “yet another empty threat”. The majority of women I knew back in the 90’s got divorced and at this time are…yup…raising their children. What happened to the legiions of men that were going to snatch their children? The ones who werent going to have “another nigga raising their seed?” Funny haha or Funny peculiar. The truth is that hardly any of the brothers actually took custody of their children.

I guess it was easier for them to move on and remarry. Try again with another fresh young thing ..the ability to do it right “this time” The problem was that there was way too many first times.

The Prophet said that there was three things that shouldnt be taking lightly….Marriage(An- Nikkah), Divorce(At-Talaq) and Taking Back after Divorce (Ar-Rujua’).

I think it this was branded on the male forehead then theres would be less jest made when it comes to marriage. Some people claim that the East Coast has the record of hit and run marriages. I dont agree. I believe that hit and run marriages are predominant ALL over the revert communities and I mean ALL reverts(Those that reverted from Jahiliyah and Nonpracticing Islam)

Brothers were going crazy with all the potential wives. I mean think about it. If you knew a few hadeeths then you would be seen as knowledgeable to a woman that didnt know squat. You could persuade her to marry you just to satisfy her need for sex or explain to her how you needed to fulfil half your deen.Back in the day sisters were selling themselves for a dream. Some sisters would ask for a rose as Dowry. Some would get a book. I know of some that asked to learn a hadeeth. That shyt was wild. I used to always look at the sisters who did this like they were crazy. How in the world did you sell yourself for a rose. I know we were seen as western “loose” women pre Islam but Islam corrected that for us. We were worth more than $20(as some were married for).

Such was the times back then when hadeeths were used as weapons against one of us. If a sister asked for a sum of money larger than $1000 she was seen as greedy and the hadeeth of the iron ring was wielded in front of her….It was madness so it was no wonder the brothers were hitting it then running. No race was free from that. I know sisters that were divorced post wedding night because they were too fat. I always wondered if any brothers were divorced because they were impotent!

It just seems to me that back then marriage was seen as a easy convenience but noone really thought about the kids that came at the backs of these marriages.

You see trying to find a husband with kids is not easy.Not a lot of men want to take on a woman with children. I remember having sitdowns with brothers who insisted that I gave my kids up BEFORE marriage. I wasnt having that. To me you better prove yourself worthy.