It is a play that repeats itself with different characters. Things that initially seem beautiful and amazing, we still have to do our best to see their true essence. Life is like a puppet show, but we have the right to change the course of events.
I always ask myself, if we can change our fate and retract certain choices, would we really change something or repeat it while avoiding mistakes? We can convince ourselves that the damage will be lighter. We all know that the first blow is the most painful, and then the blows become normal.
Life is like a puppet show, but we have the right to change the course of events
Things seemed relatively calm, the atmosphere was pleasant and the ache in my stomach today is light. My head hurts a little but I'm used to thinking excessively and coping with the pain. I stood for a long time contemplating the woman who held her infant son and sat on the pavement waiting for a passerby to give her some money to buy a carton of milk.
I could not pass by her without asking a clear and concise question. I didn’t want an answer from her, but I wanted to get out a question that tortures me constantly. So I stood before her and asked her, "Why?"
This "why" was not clear enough to be answered. She was surprised and shocked. She had started to pray for me loudly as I passed by her and her words were quelled by my question.
I thought for a moment that she was able to give a clear answer, and that she might have heard the rest of the question without me completing it. Something inside silenced me. I cannot guess what that thing was but she was not the best person to await an answer from. I walked without turning to her, the question marks appearing like bubbles inside my head forcing me to ask without finding an answer. Then I remembered, I had to walk a little faster.
At the end of this street lives a 28 year-old woman. I still remember that day she visited me at my work. She was staring at me and observing the details of my face, trying to understand the movement of my hand. Her eyes were overflowing with tears as she waited for me to say a word to her to calm her down and reassure her. Her eyes were staring at me.
I arranged my words inside my head before I could say anything to this woman standing in front of me who had been trying to get pregnant for ten years.
She was aware of her baby’s involuntary movements, tried to pick up his pulse as she put her hands on her belly and moved them with meaningless circular movements She did not know if God had really breathed a spirit inside her or that her dreams of motherhood made her feel that something was moving in her womb.
I tried to calm her down, read the blood analysis more than once, smiled a little to relax her and then told her: "Congratulations." She burst into tears, thanking God so much because he looked into her eyes and decided to help her. Although this help was limited only to the placement of a baby within her, she was happy to come every day to take the necessary injections to prevent a miscarriage. This lady was my friend throughout her pregnancy.
Less than two weeks after giving birth she came to ask me for medicine and complain of lack of sleep and the constant screaming. She was upset and complained of the fatigue after childbirth. The same question went on in my mind. I tried not to say anything. I advised her not to give her baby medicine and to endure a little. I reminded her of the ten years she waited for and the amount of injections she took to conceive, but I could not contain myself and yelled: “Why?”
In another scene, a woman standing next to the door of the pharmacy could not walk forward. I offered to help her and she advanced awkwardly. Her eyes fluttered and her voice was inaudible. I asked her to repeat what she wanted and raise her voice a bit. The woman had six children, the sixth being a baby less than a year old, and recently discovered she was pregnant. She asked me for help because her financial situation made it difficult to have more children. She was crying as she explained to me how dangerous her husband's knowledge of this was. I refused to give her anything, tried to change her mind without losing my temper. After several attempts, I asked her the same question: "Why?"
Reproduction in the shadow of a dire situation
Conceiving a child God intended to be born is no accomplishment, but raising this child despite the generally dire situation is the real achievement.
I do not want to be the mother who has children and does not have the finances to raise them. Arabs say that “children bring their own fortunes with them.” No sir, children need to grow up to be successful individuals and to be provided with everything they need to grow in a healthy way. Therefore, if we do not pay attention to their upbringing, study and requirements, we have to rethink having children until we have to ability to provide everything that they need.
Conceiving a child God intended to be born is no accomplishment, but raising this child despite the generally dire situation is the real achievement
Why should we turn a blind eye and forget our bad political situation? I am a refugee and a displaced person and the children of this country are looking for safety and stability. What does it mean to live in security and tranquility in our Arab countries? This issue always makes me feel worse. Many of those I know want to emigrate. Many of them have already emigrated and they all say the same thing: “I want to secure a decent life for my children.”
But who said that Europe and the West are a safe place to raise our children ?
I do not want to be a mother whose children become victims of the lack of security here. I do not want to lose my son to a stray bullet or an overdose of drugs. I do not want him to be in a particular party or on a particular side.
I do not want to be that mother who complains about the screams of her baby, even though God has finally given her a gift she has long been deprived of. I want to praise God for my child and not to object to his crying, to staying up for him or even to any mischief he may get up to.
I do not want to be like a cat who fears for her children and eats them. I do not want to eat my children.
I am thinking about motherhood. I ask myself these questions a lot and I am asking them again since I can’t find an answer: Is this world worthy of having a child and raising it here? Can I take responsibility for a child I brought to this life?
My answers have always stemmed from my mind and are contrary to my feelings, but I am very biased in this subject to my mind. In the end, we will be asked about our children, their lives and achievements, about their psychological illnesses as a result of our problems, about depriving them of many things as a result of our economic situation. God will ask me about these things.
We women are born to be mothers, but I do not want to have a soul standing before me and asking: "Why did you bring me into this life, mother?”