the write practice

The writer's block is really frustrating. I thought about how words used to just come to me like a flowing river. Now I can't get a decent sentence without rewriting it ten times before I stop writing altogether. What is my problem? I know I want this and i know that now is the perfect time to do it. But why do i keep on making excuses for myself. Or procrastinate till 'I am ready' or for the perfect story. I am ready. I have always been ready. My story will never be perfect. But at least if I write it, there will be a story.
While making my Karipap, I did some soul-searching and I figured out what was stopping me from writing. It's the distractions. The social media. I know I make silly videos on Instagram. I am fully aware that those videos are means to distract myself from writing. I was  making excuses for myself. I thought if I watched the videos of me talking to myself, I can see myself like an outsider. But my smartphone is only making me dumber. John says he decided to make his smartphone a dumbphone, where it only makes calls and sends texts. I should do that too. I am gonna do that too. I know I want this and I know I can do it. And I know what's stopping me. It's not the house chores or the taking care of kids. It's me. It's my attitude. So what if my writing sucks. I can improve. I can practice. I will just keep on reading, making journals and writing and blogging. Just to practice. I need the practice. So wish me luck. Thanks Sue from the write practice. You are right. Just write it. One word after another. It will come eventually. I believe it will.

the breaking news at breakfast

I can never forget that morning.  Me & Ikhwan brought AQ to the cafe for breakfast. Its always a good idea to walk after giving birth. We were filling up the forms, deciding on his second name, I was still torn between Omar or Rami. ikhwan went back to the room to take something and later came back saying that he had bumped into the doctor. He said that the doctor wanted to see me immediately. I thought it was weird, so said I will come over soon. He left me and AQ to take the forms but two minutes later Ikhwan came back again with the doctor.  I was so blur when the doctor was telling Ikhwan in German "you can tell her in English or German". I was like what is happening? I could feel my stomach aching. Ikhwan spoke to me in English telling me that they had to take AQ to the ICU because he had an infection. I was listening to what he said,  I was looking at his sad eyes as he was breaking the news to me.  It all felt like a bad dream because we were just saying to each other, if everything goes well,  we could go home the next day. The news completely changed our state of mind. We walked to the icu room together with the doctor as she pushed the small baby bed. I was still processing what was happening. I envisioned my days there in the icu,  how would they be like, I imagined my first child excitedly waiting for his little brother to come back, she is still too small to understand. They took him in as we waited outside. I heard a baby cry. I wasn't sure if it was him, I just knew him for two days.  My mind was imagining the worst,  what would they do  to my 2 day old baby,  which we have yet to give a second name at that time.  A couple of minutes later they said he was ready and we could come in. With a heavy heart,  we entered the ICU room, and as parents we had access at any time at all. I looked at him in the incubator, body covered with cables. He looked different.  He opened his eyes and looked at me,  from the cube. I wanted to hold him but I wasn't sure if I could. I had tears in my eyes as the nurse was explaining to me in German what those cables are for. And as parents, we are allowed to hold him,  feed him, and even change his diaper.  The nurse was nice and I can never forget her.  Schwester Gaby. A  small old lady with very thick glasses. Her hair was partially grey and black and shoulder length. She somehow reminds me of a character in the movie 'The incredibles'.  She wasn't that good with computers but she does an excellent job with the babies. I could see that she has done this probably a thousand times. She patted my shoulder and said 'don't worry we will take good care of him'. I am not a touchie person,  I often freeze when people suddenly give me a hug,  or suddenly brush my hand during conversations. But at that moment, her reassurance gave me a sense of relief.  He has been inside me for 39+2 days and to see him being in a cubicle with cables was heartbreaking.  God knows how hard I try to hide my tears. Everytime I try to breastfeed him, it was a struggle. I worry if I might screw up any cables or hurt him. He had one on his head,  which made it hard for me to change sides while feeding. Feeding time took longer as it was a bit more challenging,  the antibiotics made him sleepy so he sleeps during feedings.  Each feeding usually took me about 1.5 hours. There was a chair that I would sit for that 1.5 hours or more. It wasn't a comfortable chair to sit for more than 1 hour, with  newborn, who is trying to drink. But It didn't matter that I was hurting my back. It didn't matter if I wasn't getting any proper sleep, all that matters at that time, is that he recovers fully. Allah is great, after 6 days in the hospital, we finally could go back home. A child is a gift from Allah, an amanah,  that all parents should take good care of.  May Allah bless and protect all our children.  Amin. 

Writing Prompt 2 : On the other side of that door

83 pages of legal documentations, six months of running up and down the same building, 35 years of being alone and countless unanswered questions. Finally this is it. She sat anxiously on an empty seat in the middle of the empty hallway. She closed her eyes and took a long deep breath and exhaled slowly. It was probably the hundred-th time she did that just today and counting. Every breath that she took, she knew what she felt. She felt closer and closer to what she has been anticipating.

The long prayers, the sleepless nights, the pro-con lists, the counseling, the thinking, the rethinking, the weighing everything that gave meaning to her life, it all comes down to his moment. On the other side of that door is her end of time. She knew what was on the other side of that door would mean so much more that her life itself. She was ready for it.

Her thoughts were interrupted when a tall man with a black suit approached her.

'Frau Jensen, Kommen Sie bitte mit mir' He asked her to follow him

She stood up and took another long breath before initiating her steps. Every step felt heavier than the last. The walk along the hallway felt like the longest walk. In her mind, she imagined a thousand things, a thousand scenes. Every image left her smiling wider and wider, making her feel like this decision is the best decision she has ever made. Their footsteps interrupted her thoughts and finally they were standing in front of a room at the end of the hall. The man stopped and turned and prepared himself. He patted gently on his suit, clearing almost invisible dusts that might have been on it. He cleared his throat as a sign of preparing himself for the next step.

'Sind Sie bereit?' The question that she has been asking herself for the past six months. Are you ready?

She nodded with full certainty. Her eyes watched closely at his left hand that knocked lightly at the door. His knock was a sign acknowledging the person behind the door that they are finally there. He reached for the silver handle. Within that two seconds she thought about how many times he must've done this in his life. He looked so calm and emotionless as though this life changing moment for her meant nothing to him. The truth was, he was as nervous as she was. But he had to be professional.

The door was opened ajar, just wide enough for her to see the bright lit room and a person sitting on a sofa. There she was, for the first time in her life, she finally saw her. It was that exact moment when their eyes met, a tear dropped.

'Frau Jensen... hier ist Jannah' The man introduced her to the 10 year old girl who was sitting nervously at the sofa. She was wearing a simple blue dress and her hair was covered nicely with a black scarf. Jannah stood up and walked slowly to her, their eyes locked between each other. Through her deep eyes, she saw myriad of emotions. Pain, hope, fear, happiness, sadness.

She knelt down slowly. The moment froze. She smelled an unfamiliar yet soothing scent that came from the girl that was walking slowly but surely towards her. She embraced her with the warmest hug. She is officially a mother to an adopted Syrian Refugee named Jannah, which means Paradise in Arabic. It felt like paradise for the both of them.

'Assalamualaikum' Jannah greeted her.

'Walaikummussalam' she replied. It was that moment that she finally understood what it's like to be a mother.

The man in the suit witnessed this from the corner of the room. He could not help but feel happy for them. In his heart, he never forgot about his long lost son, and hopes to hug him once again,,,