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Mahmoud's True Amazing Story

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#1 [Permalink] Posted on 26th August 2006 19:53
When I found out that my mother was going to be bringing me a new brother or sister, I could not help but laugh. Weren't five children more than enough? I guess not...since the typical Arab family must consist of at least five 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 Eid" list. The youngest of us was eight years old at the time, so it has been a while without dirty diapers, late night cries, baby food, and toys all over the place. Not only that, but I was about to start college and I knew that having a baby around would require a lot of additional energy and time 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 سبحانه وتعالى and Allah سبحانه وتعالى knows best. From that moment on, no one else complained.

Alhumdulillah, the next nine months went by smoothly. Only 37 years old, my mother's health and experience proved to be an advantage during the pregnancy process. During that time frame, I began to accept the idea of a new addition to the family. In fact, I even started shopping for baby necessities. The question soon began to arise: is it a boy or a girl? My mom wanted to keep it a surprise, but we could not wait that long. A couple of visits to the doctor proved that my mom held within her a healthy baby boy! Right away, we excitedly debated over a name. We even bought a book with ideas. Hours were spent jokingly arguing about it. Of course, we never agreed on a name.

The time had finally come. Seconds felt like minutes. Minutes felt like hours. Hours felt like eternity. Worry, excitement, pain...every emotion was felt that day. Alhumdulillah, on August 8, 2002, my mother gave birth to a healthy, baby boy. The athan was recited in his right ear, then his left ear. The doctor came to take the baby so that my mother could get settled in a room of her own. About four hours after the delivery, my mother asked to see her baby. The nurse left with eagerness to bring 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 doctor (who was also Muslim). "Mrs. Abuakar, I heard you have five children," the doctor stated. "No, I have 6 kids; 3 boys and 3 girls," my mother responded with a smile. "This child just wasn't your naseeb. Allah سبحانه وتعالى 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 uttered. "We left him on life support to give you a chance to say goodbye to him."

What happened next cannot be put into words. My mother had fainted. My family was crying. My father was on the phone speaking to the Sheikh about the process for an Islamic funeral of 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 lacked oxygen for a couple of hours. As a result, he died. They said he had an irreversible loss of the flow of vital fluids, an irreversible loss of capacity for bodily integration, an 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 on his body. His heart could not beat on its own. Even with all the machines, it was barely beating. His body could not even maintain homeostasis. A light source lay on top of his "cage" to keep his temperature regulated. His body could not even accept oxygen. A ventilator and respirator were his only source of breath. He was in a coma. The chances of him even surviving (with life support) were one in a million. And even if he were to surpass the coma, he would be (and I quote the doctor)... a 'vegetable'.

When my mother regained 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 see are machines. All you hear are alarms and beeping. 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 (it was all covered up with 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 and recite Quran to him. And she did just that. For those short few minutes, she just sat next to him and recited. The doctors finally told her that she had to say goodbye. There was absolutely nothing that could be done. There was absolutely no purpose for the machines; for they could not bring back life to a dead body, only prolong its existence. My mother refused. In her heart, she could not say goodbye. She pleaded and pleaded with the hospital to keep him on life support. They argued and claimed that it will only hurt her more. My mother kept fighting against them. She told them that they have nothing to lose, to just leave the machines until Allah سبحانه وتعالى decides 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 his condition. She told the doctors that she wants this baby, even if he is a vegetable.

My mother decided to name the baby "Mahmoud" after her father. Mahmoud lay hopelessly "dead" in the hospital. Every day, the doctors would tell my mother to say goodbye because the situation was hopeless. But everyday, my mother just sat there and made duaa for him. We all did. Although there were times that we did lose hope and felt that maybe the doctors were right, we saw how strongly our mother felt about leaving things in Allah's سبحانه وتعالى hands. SubhanAllah, after 18 days of absolutely no life, a nurse swore that she saw Mahmoud open his eye for a second. A couple of days later, he was partially out of coma. His gray eyes would just stare at us, pleading for us to hold him, to save him.

They call Mahmoud the "Miracle Baby" at Christ Hospital. SubhanAllah. After two months, he had the quickest improvement ever witnessed. Within that week when he first opened his eyes, his body started to accept oxygen, and an oxygen-feeding tube replaced the ventilator. After three months, we took him home with all his machines. Our entire family room became his nursing room. Every minute was interrupted with alarms and beeping from his machines. Slowly, his body started to regain life. By the end of the sixth month, he was able to breath, eat, and live on his own without machines. SubhanAllah how Allah سبحانه وتعالى can bring life to the dead.




Mahmoud is our symbol of hope. He is 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 learning to walk.



I wouldn't change our experience with Mahmoud for the world. He has taught us many things: patience, hope, appreciation for life and its simple blessings like breathing. He has taught us to keep our faith in Allah سبحانه وتعالى strong. Allah سبحانه وتعالى tests his believers with trails and tribulations. Everything happens for a reason. Everything happens from Allah سبحانه وتعالى and Allah سبحانه وتعالى knows best.


Here is a poem written by my mom:


As I walked the never ending steps to the room of special care,

I washed my hands, put on a special gown,

For everything must be sterilized and clean.

I entered the room and saw babies everywhere lying in beds...hopeless
Wearing only diapers and machines.

Sounds of nurses and doctors, but mostly you hear 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 to him be near."

I closed my eyes trying to hide my tears,

Without realization, I fell into a deep, deep sleep.

I had the most beautiful, sweetest dream.

I'm holding my baby, reciting Quran, while I rock him to sleep.

I awoke to the voice of a doctor calling to me,

Then I realized it was only just a happy dream.

I prayed to Allah سبحانه وتعالى and hoped for that dream to someday be a reality.
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#2 [Permalink] Posted on 26th August 2006 21:03
As Salamu Alaikum,


Jazkallah Khair for that story MUSLIMAH_119, SubhanAllah it really makes you think about the Greatness of Allah

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#3 [Permalink] Posted on 26th August 2006 22:53
This is a real story as well but i have not placed the website on here for certain reasons :)

wasalaam

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#4 [Permalink] Posted on 13th August 2007 06:17
Assalamu Alaikum~

SubhanAllah, this was the story I wrote about my baby brother a few years ago. Alhamdulillah, his 5th birthday had just passed and mashAllah, he has grown so much in the past few years!!! Mahmoud now walks, talks, plays and will be attending school this fall inshAllah.

I would like to send my sincerest thanks to all those who have remembered Mahmoud and my family in your prayers. May Allah سبحانه وتعالى remember all of you on the Day of Judgement and may He open up the path of Jannah for you. Ameen.

Please continue to remember us in your duaas! JazakAllah Khair Lamies Abuakar

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#5 [Permalink] Posted on 13th August 2007 11:09
SubhanAllah, a beautiful reminder of Allah and His powers. How can you deny the favours of Allah. We should be thankful for every breath we take. With every breath, we should remember our Merciful Lord, Allah.
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#6 [Permalink] Posted on 6th March 2024 09:26
Subhan'Allah
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