In the name of God, compassionate & merciful بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمنِ الرَّحِيمِ | Peace be with you السلام عليكم

Since my miscarriage over 14 years ago I have researched on this subject and found the Islamic rulings as follows:

1. If the child is born alive and dies after a short while, the child should be named, have a ghusl, (washed by following Islam's teaching on cleanliness), shrouded in a normal kaffan (3 white sheets to form part of a coffin) and janazah salat (the Muslim funeral prayer) should be offered. Basically, a full adult funeral.

2. If the child is born after 8 months but is still born (or all the body parts are fully formed even if the time period is less; and is not alive upon birth), the child should be named, a full ghusl should be performed, wrapped in one piece of white cloth (not a full kafan) and buried without the janaza salat.

According to Prophetic ahadith The ‘ruh’ or soul of life is put into the foetus at four months. The foetus is therefore considered alive after this time.

[For more information read Islam-QA.com, a personal account on IslamOnline.net, and a ruling again onIslamOnline.net]

I hope I have shed some light on this topic and people will not feel shy or scared to talk about this. It is part of our personal jihad (struggle) in life that we go through testing times. Allah tests us through our wealth, children and spouses (Qur'an, 3:186). May He give us the patience and strength to accept it. My children are aware of their baby sister and they have named her 'Aisha. We go and visit her grave sometimes and this brings us closer to Allah and the knowledge that nothing is permanent and death is inevitable.

How fully are we prepared for it?

In the name of God, compassionate & merciful بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمنِ الرَّحِيمِ | Peace be with you السلام عليكم

A good friend of mine once quoted to me:

Your heart is the browser.

The Pathways are the search engine.

The universe is the real Internet.

And there are many addresses to the Beloved,

whose server is always online.

A funny way of looking at it, but

a perfectly accurate metaphor. Every human being on this planet is made individual by their consciousness i.e. the way in which they think and perceive the world around them. This is what determines their decisions, actions and passage through life. In this way, ultimately, every human can approach the mountain using a unique strategy to get them to the top. Each will choose their own pathway to get there and each pathway can be just as valid as another.

Although this seems to be something that has the potential to separate us from others, it is actually what unites us. Tawhid (the unity of God - monotheism) can symbolize the indivisibility of Allah subhanahu wa-ta'ala, as well as the divine unity of all life. By combining and learning from our differing attributes, we can choose the best possible path to reach the top. You need only one pathway, if you relentlessly follow it to its source.

I am going to start a series on al Asma ul Husna or "the most beautiful names":

Say (Muhammad): "Call upon Allah, or call upon Rahman: by whatever name you call upon Him, (it is well): for to Him belong the Most Beautiful Names..." Quran, surah al'Isra, (17:110)

In addition to translating the word "asma" as "qualities" or "names", I will equate it also to "pathways" in order to emphasize the dynamic experience of rumination on these attributes. I will take a deeper look into each name, how it contributes to the unifying oneness and how it can be used to benefit each of us individually. Insha'allah.

Keep checking back for my new articles on this series!

In the name of God, compassionate & merciful بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمنِ الرَّحِيمِ Peace be with you السلام عليكم

Part 1 | Part 2

As a young person, I had heard women talk about how it was a bad omen for an expecting woman to see a woman who’d had a miscarriage or lost an infant child. This deeply controversial topic was never spoken of and prayers were carried around from the mouths of believers against meeting such 'unfortunate women'.

According to the 'muslim' custom, the stillborn child would be buried outside the communal graveyard in an unmarked grave. I never really understood what the women were talking about nor understood why anyone should be banished from being buried in a normal graveyard. It would be years later when I would realise what they were implying.

There are millions of women who lose babies before at or after birth. It is an experience only another woman has felt will understand. It is one of the most traumatic experiences one goes through and no words of comfort can really heal the wounds. It is true that death is inevitable and as Muslims we accept this without question. However, we are talking about the end of life at its beginning which has been growing inside the mother for up to nine months. That is something very difficult to come to terms with and only patience and faith in Allah makes one endure the pain.

Having carried your baby for months, a special bond is already formed. Allah willing, the mother has hopes and expectations for the birth and the early years that will be spent with the baby. The movements of the baby and the heartbeat are a reminder that a miraculous thing is happening in the womb, inside of you. Life has a unique meaning when you watch it develop directly connected to you. You feel blessed, above the world, closer to Allah for allowing you to be a part of creation.

To be then suddenly told by doctors that there is no heartbeat, the baby is not moving… is very difficult to comprehend. The ears wait in pain for the thumping sound on the monitor but all that’s heard is silence and the doctor’s fumbling for double checks. The thought creeps into your head that this is the end, all hopes, desires and wishes are shattered; all your life seems to crumble and all you see is total darkness. The doctor turns around and looks at you with a ‘there’s nothing else we can do’ look and you know you’ve lost everything. A thought comes to your mind ‘why me?' It is something you read about but never imagined would happen.

During the waiting period for the child to be born (there is a choice, you can go home and wait for labour to start naturally or have it induced - started off artificially with medication) your whole mind and body struggles in thought provoking self blame. What did I do wrong? What did I do wrong? How could it have been prevented? How will I get through it?

My baby was a beautiful girl. After she was born the nurses took her away, bathed her and dressed her and then brought her back to me. I cuddled her in my arms as if she was alive. My husband and my mother also held her in their arms. In their own way they were also going through pain and found it difficult to console me even though they tried their best. I couldn’t feed her as I had done so with my two other children. I felt very inadequate and incomplete as a mother.

We were asked by the hospital staff if we wanted to bury the baby ourselves or allow the hospital to ‘make arrangements’ for us. We had no idea what their ‘arrangements’ consisted of, we didn’t know what to do, we didn’t have knowledge or experience of these circumstances. I stayed the night in the hospital in a special room away from the maternity ward and read upon all the notes and counselling information they gave me. My husband enquired from our local masjid imam (Muslim community leader) about what we should do. But he was not able to offer us any guidance except to say that the Muslim uneral prayer is not offered on a stillborn child. We had to make a very difficult decision in a very short time. In the end I decided to have a burial in our local graveyard.

We buried our baby on a cold, wintery wet December day in a very tiny coffin.

After the burial the comments from peers were even more painful. ‘Well wishing’ women came to pay their condolences made me conflicted; some said ‘it was good that we did not have her as we already had two girls’; some told us that ‘so and so is expecting a baby so they can’t come near women who have lost babies in case they are “affected”,’(very superstitious old women’s tales). I just got fed up with all of this and did not want to see these ‘well wishers’.

When I finished reading the information the hospital gave me, I discovered that more than one stillborn or miscarried baby is sometimes buried in one grave with parents not knowing where. I was so glad that we had buried our baby ourselves.

As always time is a great healer and gradually the pain became bearable and it became easier to talk about it without crying. Through all of the experience what was really distressing, we did not know what to do Islamically. Should we have performed the ghusal (ritual ablutions), name the baby, offered the funeral prayer, had a proper grave? It was so sad that our religious leaders were not able to offer the guidance at a very distressing time, mostly likely still failing women today.

However, I firmly believe that Allah takes us through situations for reasons – it helps us to become patient, better, wiser and stronger people. It makes us appreciate the small things in life that we take for granted. I thought I could never go through having a baby again but a few years later Allah blessed me with a very beautiful daughter, and then a son. “After every hardship there is certainly ease.” (Quran, 94:5)


By: The Explorer Peace & respect ★ www.Muslimness.com