Zohra Sarwari – The Miracle Baby Mahmoud

			Bismillah Alhamdulillah wa salatu salam ala rasulillah I'm going to share with you guys a story
called The name is called Mahmoud. And it was done by Les Mis, Abu ocher. And it's actually
published in a magazine in life in Islam. It was published in there in the econo newspaper. And I
found the story amazing and I had to share it with you guys because it inspired me tremendously and
it was something I wanted, you know,
		

			others to hear and listen to and chalon hopefully it inspires them as well inshallah. So the name is
the story is titled called Mahmoud. When I found out that my mother was pregnant, I couldn't help
but laugh. Weren't five children more than enough? I guess not, since the typical Arab family must
consist of at least 5 million kids. Actually, my laughter subsisted as a mere blanket over my true
feelings of frustration, I have to admit, although I love children, the thought of having another
little critter in the house was not on my, what I want for he blessed, the youngest of us was eight
years old at the time, so it's been a while without dirty diapers and toys all over the place. Not
		

			only that, but I knew that having a baby around would require a lot of energy from all of us. I was
indeed aggravated that day. When I found out my mom was pregnant. My mother's response remained
clear and simple. This baby is from Allah subhanaw taala and Allah knows best. From the from that
moment on, no one else could complain.
		

			And 100 Alhamdulillah the next nine months went by smoothly.
		

			Okay. Alhamdulillah the next nine months went by smoothly. During that time, I began to accept the
idea of a new addition. In fact, I even started shopping for baby necessities. The question soon
began to rise. Is it a boy or girl, my mom.
		

			Erase. My mom wanted to keep it a surprise, but we couldn't wait that long. A couple of visits to
the doctor's proved that my mom held within her a healthy little baby boy. Right away we began an
exciting debate over a name. We even bought a book with ideas. hours were spent joking and arguing
about it. Of course, we never agreed. The time had finally come seconds felt like minutes minutes
felt like hours hours felt like an eternity. Worry, excitement, pain. every emotion was fought by D
Alhamdulillah. On August 8 2002, my mother gave birth to a healthy baby boy, the dawn was recited in
his right ear and then his left ear. The doctor came to take the baby so that my mother could get
		

			settled in the room of her own. About four hours after the delivery. My mother asked to see her
baby. The nurses left with eagerness to read him. After what felt like hours. She returned empty
handed. Her face was white, as if she had just seen a ghost. stuttering she told my mother that the
doctor wanted to speak to her. Right behind the nurse stood the Muslim doctor, Mrs. Abu aka I heard
you have five children. The doctor stated. No, I have six three boys and three girls. My mother
responded with a smile. This child wasn't your naseeb a lot took his soul. The doctor replied with
the utmost confidence. My mother let out a shaky laugh. You're joking, right? I'm sorry, the doctor
		

			muttered. We left him on life support to give you a chance to say goodbye to him. What happened next
cannot be put in words. My mother had fainted. My family was crying. My father was inquiring about
the process of an Islamic funeral for a baby. I was confused. How did this happen? What went wrong?
So many questions? Not a single answer. The only thing we were told was that he had somehow locked
lacked oxygen for a couple of hours. As a result of this, he died. They said he had irreversible
loss of the flow of vital fluids and irreversible loss of capacity for bodily integration and
irreversible loss of capacity for social interaction. By all medical definitions, he was dead. The
		

			only thing keeping him from being taken away was the life support. He was not even a candidate for
support. But the hospital was required to try it. Every available machine was hooked to his body,
his heart couldn't beat on its own. Even with all the machines, it was barely beating, his body
couldn't maintain
		

			homeo status. A light source lay on top of his cage to keep his temperature regulated. His body
couldn't accept oxygen, a ventilator and a recipient and respirator were his only source of breath.
He was in a coma. The chances of him even surviving with life support or one one in a million. And
even if he was to surpass the coma, he would be I quote the doctor set a vegetable when my mother
		

			regained her consciousness. She asked to see her baby. The doctor allowed her only 15 minutes to see
him. I remember the feeling of that room. All you could see were machines. All you could hear were
alarms and beeping, their rows and rows of babies. Some of them were born premature. Others were
born sick. All of them, however, had a chance for survival. My mother sat next to him. She could
barely even see his body underneath all the machines. She had to sanitize herself and wear special
clothes. She was not even allowed to touch her baby. All she could do was sit next to him recite
Quran to him.
		

			And she did just that. For those few short minutes. She just sat next to him and she recited she
		

			the doctors finally told her to say goodbye. Absolutely nothing can be done. There was no purpose
for the machine, for they could not bring back the life of a dead body only prolong its existence.
My mother refused. In her heart she couldn't say goodbye. She pleaded and pleaded with the hospital
to keep him on life support. They argued and claimed that it would only hurt her more.
		

			My mother kept fighting against them. She told them that she had nothing. They had nothing to lose
to just leave the machines on until Allah decided it was time to say goodbye. She wanted to take
that risk the one in a million chance of survival. She was willing to accept him no matter what his
condition. She told the doctor that she wanted this baby even if he was a vegetable.
		

			My mother decided to name the baby Mahmud after her father, Mahmud Lee hopelessly dead in the
hospital. Every day, the doctors told my mother to say goodbye to him because the situation was
hopeless. But every day my mother just sat there and made dwarf for him. We all did. Although there
were times that we didn't lose hope. And we felt that maybe the doctors are right.
		

			We saw how strongly our mother felt about leaving things in a lost hands fanola after 18 days of
absolutely no life, a nurse for that she heard my mood that she saw would open his eyes for a
second.
		

			A couple of days later, he was partially out of the coma. His gray eyes were just staring at us
pleading for us to hold them to save him. They come move the miracle baby at Christ's hospital.
After two months, he had the quickest improvement ever witnessed. within the week when he first
opened his eye, his eyes his body start to accept oxygen and an oxygen feeding to replace the
ventilator. After three months, we took him home with all his machines. Our entire family room
became his nursing home. Every minute was interrupted with alarms and beeps. Slowly his body started
to regain life. By the end of the six months he was able to breathe, eat and live on his own without
		

			medications without machines. Subhan Allah how Allah can bring the dead back to life. Muhammad is
our symbol of hope. He's not a vegetable. In fact, his mental capacity and ability to reason are
well beyond the level of his peers. With the help of therapy, he is now able to walk on his own.
Each day is an opportunity to learn new words. Now at the age of three, he attends preschool. I
wouldn't change our experience with my mood for the world. He has taught us so many things,
patience, hope, appreciation for life, and it's simple blessings like breathing. He has taught us to
keep our faith and the law strong. I love tests as believers with trials and tribulations.
		

			Everything happens for a reason. Everything happens from Allah and Allah knows best. And here's a
poem that was written by his mom. I walked the never ending steps to the room of special care. I
washed my hands put on a special gag. Everything must be sterilized and clean. I entered the room
and I saw babies
		

			everywhere lying in bed hopeless, wearing only diapers and machines. Sounds of nurses and doctors
but mostly alarms going off and loud screams mothers holding their babies and rocking them to sleep.
I asked Can I hold my baby please? The nurse answered Sorry, my dear, for your child is too sick.
		

			No one is allowed to touch or be near him. I closed my eyes trying to hide my tears. With that
realization I fell into a deep deep sleep. I had the most beautiful sweetest dream. I'm holding my
baby reciting the Quran. While I rock him to sleep. I walked to the voice of a doctor calling to me
and I realized it was only a happy dream. I pray to God and hope for this dream to someday be a
reality.
		

			upon Allah My dear sisters and brothers for all
		

			All of us going through difficult times, especially for the mothers who lost babies who've had
babies who are premature, and who lost loved ones or who have those loved ones who are sick, or
perhaps you've been separated from a loved one. Or perhaps you're going through financial struggles,
whatever the difficulty, this story should be one that brings you hope. What the law by our side,
anything can happen, even with the facts insist and statistics point to one thing, all we need is
faith. Patience, dua for Allah is Allah Allah he's the one who grants victory keep making dua don't
give up there's always light at the end of the tunnel no matter how long the tunnel may seem,
		

			eventually there will be light inshallah.
		

			And for me, personally, I you know, my oldest was born premature and the story is so close to my
heart She was born two months early and she was born three pounds and I remember going through so
many similar moments such as Pamela
		

			you know, now you never imagined that you know what she went through when she was born? You know,
Pamela, I just tell you guys to hold on. Make a lot of dough recite the Quran, get closer to Allah
and inshallah your tests and tribulations and trials will go so much more smoothly and inshallah the
end will be much sweeter than it is duck Allah Heiden salaam alaikum wa rahmatullahi wa barakaatuh