Wow. Just, wow.

My due date is tomorrow. That will probably be blithely ignored by Schenectady, but the significance of how far we've come, and the journey ahead, is worth noting. There is another being, a separate soul, just beneath my rib cage.S/he will be born soon, alive and healthy, insha'Allah, and a fate I cannot begin to imagine has already been decreed for the life currently kicking me. When we began this journey, I was more naive, but sadder than I am now. I am more cautious, but also filled with joy.

I am charged with a duty that thrills and frightens me: not only must I provide for the basic needs of the wee rascal, but I must help a brand new person learn what it means to be human and Muslim. I must explain to a small and undeveloped human what it means to pray, and how it's done. True, these explanations are some years away, but my baby has already heard me pray, and can probably sort out the difference between my salah and conversation. It is the context, the reasons for the statements, the postures, and the silences, that will create further meaning. And it is my job to provide meaning to the rhythms of life. (Good Lord, they're actually going to let me attempt this?)

Between us and this next phase of growth, however, lies the single hardest natural task a human being will ever accomplish. Somehow, I've got to push this fatheaded infant out of my body, and the attempt could kill one or both of us, as it has for women and babies since time immemorial. Yep, I live in a squeaky clean Western country, and have access to fine medical care, but to deny the possibility would be foolish, considering the USA has one of the higher maternal and infant mortality rates for developed countries. I'm not panicked, but I won't say that I'm not afraid. I am no more deserving of life than mothers who have lost their lives before me, and I am no more deserving of a healthy baby than the many women who have had to greet and bid farewell to their babies in the same instant. It almost feels like arrogance to pray for a safe delivery, but I long for it all the same.

And here's hoping I'm not so exhausted and out of it from birth that I look at my precious one and name him or her Devodka or Hades.