The Baby Files: One Month, Alhamdulillah

If you went to an electronics store and the salesman tried to sell you an expensive piece of equipment that came with no manual, required round the clock maintenance and would not perform anything except very basic functions for the next three years, would you buy it? And yet we have children, because they are the embodiment of love and the promise of future. They are tiny, beautiful, vulnerable extensions of our own selves. They are us, reborn. They give us the ability to remake ourselves through them, hopefully this time with less mistakes, and hopefully with better looking ears this time.

It’s been four weeks of being a Momma now, and I’m not sure where to start. I’m exhausted but coping. I’m emotionally depleted but have discovered new reserves. I haven’t had a full night’s rest for a month now, and the circles under my eyes are looking permanent, but SubhanAllah, SubhanAllah, I am happy.

I find it amazing, no, awing that every single mother goes through this. Rather, ever single blessed mother goes through this, because Alhamdulillah, my child is blessed to be without disability or illness that would make this process even more difficult than it is. Taking care of a newborn has, like the pain of delivery, pushed me farther than I thought I could ever go. I never thought I could survive, thrive even, on a series of naps for an entire month. Khalid never sleeps for more than three hours at a time, and he usually sleeps for much less, and that means I do too. Once upon a time if I had less than say, five hours of sleep it would be difficult for me to function. Now I dream of getting five hours, and although I miss rest and sleep and waking up naturally, I don’t hold this schedule against my son. My tiny little boy has a tiny little stomach, and he can’t sleep when he’s hungry. I can’t either, actually.

I miss keeping in contact with my friends, but my son is more important than email. I miss getting dressed and feeling like a presentable human being, but I have a limited amount of time and getting dressed has fallen rather low on the list of priorities. Khalid comes first, after that comes the husband and the house and food and laundry and hey, yesterday I had ten minutes free so I washed my face and made the bed. It felt nice.

There’s a pulled muscle in my right shoulder, just where it joins my neck, that’s been killing me for three days now. I don’t have the option of going easy on it, because I need my right shoulder.

And my left shoulder.

And a third shoulder would be helpful.

I think that instead of getting fat while pregnant I should’ve put my effort into growing another arm. You need one when the baby comes, trust me. You only make the mistake of taking a wet baby out of the bath without having a towel ready once. After that you learn to lay the towel in your lap before even putting the baby in the bath so that your naked little Bebeface doesn’t start crying and shivering when he’s taken out of the warm water.

(Either that or you grow a third arm so that you can hold the baby with two hands and open the towel with the new one.)

Please remember us in your duas, pray that God gives my son a character that He loves and makes the road to righteousness smooth for him. Please pray that I grow a third arm.

Peace & Chikken Grease


Abez is a 50% white, 50% Pakistani, and 100% Muslim. She is also chronically ill and terminally awesome. She is the ever-lovin Momma of: - Khalid, a special little boy with autism - Iman, a special little girl with especially big hair -Musfira, an especially devious baby Spoiler, Abez is also Zeba Khan on

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