Being able to turn around in the middle of the night and curl into his arms is without a doubt my favourite thing about being married. I’ve always hated sleeping alone. Now, there was a streak of moonlight across my wooden floors, the curve of a shoulder in the dark, and warmth. I wake up pressed against his back, or with me on my side, my hand on his chest, our fingers intertwined.
I feel so safe.
He looked perfect to me at 5:30am, eating with his eyes half closed. On eid morning he walked in and held me, “Eid Mubarak baby” and I smiled. And my future with him stretched before me like an endless river. This is our first eid. A few Eid’s into our marriage he might come in and kiss me and a baby, our baby.
During the first week of June, I missed a pill. Or two. And I was late. Late enough that everyone thought I was pregnant. My husband looked at me – I swatted his hand – “eyes on the road” but he kept looking at me, “I wonder what our child will look like. I hope she/he looks like you”
He looked up baby names. I got anxious, it wasn’t part of my plan to have a baby now, although I understood that everything is in Allah’s hands, I just didn’t feel ready for a baby. But we spoke about it. I thought of my parents. And how they were old. I thought about “the bigger picture” and how I would actually love to start a family. Another day passed and he bought a test.
And then I took the test, and I saw a solitary pink line that –according to the box- meant I wasn’t going to have a baby.
All I felt was disappointment. Raw, uncut disappointment that cut into me like little needles. And that stupid voice in my head you didn’t want a baby anyway. You want to finish your degree first, it’s the responsible thing to do.
And this is where I am right now. Happier than I thought possible with someone who was a perfect stranger 7 months ago. Always on the brink of possibility and I love it. I love how many opportunities there are right now. It’s terrifying. I’m always worried that I’m wasting my early 20’s. (I’m literally only 20)
And I can’t stop thinking how different things are now. How far they are from my life before. How desperately I’ve been hanging on to the person I was before.
She’s all I know. I can’t keep pretending I’m that person, I know how much I’ve changed.
Now I was picking up new habits, new little gestures, new facial expressions, even. I was the same, but different.
Different enough to create distance.
I was having a low moment. I don’t have many of them. I turned to him, our pillows overlapping each other and he put his phone down. (that’s modern day romance right there) and in the dark I voiced all my fears, and all my feelings. (I have a lot of feelings)
He, having already encircled me in his arms, squeezed me too tight – in that I’ll- never-let-anything-happen-to-you hug and consoled me. Whispered to me, stroked my hair until I fell asleep.
Love is being there when the other person needs you. Love is knowing which way to love the other person and when.
Love is understanding.
And so I let go, of all the things that troubled my heart. I let go of the fears I held. I let go of burdens that I should not have been carrying in the first place.
I’ve never felt so free.