Two little lips make fish kisses against my left cheek and a chubby fist reaches around to grab my right.
Allahu Akbar!
Looking down at Ivy’s delicious leg rolls, I can barely control the smile that breaks out on my face. She gooes in reply.
Allahu Akbar!
I’m back down in prostration to God, again receiving fish kisses against my cheek.
It’s the first time I’ve been able to pray in congregation all Ramadan — and it’s amazingly fulfilling to join everyone in the sunset worship.
But soon Eryn is running around us — pulling on headscarves and climbing on baba’s back. Our short dua’ after prayer is made even shorter to instruct Eryn on a better way to behave when the family prays together, and before I can even get into the rhythm of dhikr, I have to attend to a screaming Ivy who’s demanding her third meal of the evening.
If the fasters are disturbed by the noise of children, I don’t care. I spent the first week of Ramadan desperately trying to keep the babies quiet so the fasters could eat their date and pray the sunset prayer in peace. Then I’d pray after everyone started their iftaar — trying to concentrate on whatever peacefulness I could muster while attending to both girls. It was terribly isolating.
It’s hard feeling like you’re actually praying and not just going through the motions when you constantly have to keep your hyper toddler from smothering the baby. It’s hard practicing Ramadan when you’re not actually fasting.
Ramadan is special and festive. Not only is it challenging and rewarding to abstain from food and drink during daylight hours, but the month itself is sacred and an opportunity to learn self-restraint, make spiritual goals, give in charity and celebrate with friends and family. The community bonds between Muslims seem strongest during this time.
I’ve always loved the austerity of the fast. There is more time to concentrate on prayer. There is more time to read the Qur’an. In fact, it’s played around the clock, and people make a greater effort to recite, read and memorize God’s word. The fast is not only restraint of one’s desire for food or drink, but also restraint of one’s speech, thoughts and actions.
Even if you’re busy with work, there is still more time to do any sacred, devotional act that speaks to your heart and soul — simply because there’s less time spent thinking about food and other mundane matters.
So choosing not to fast this year is actually making this the hardest Ramadan I’ve ever faced.
Remembering the smell of incense, feeling the presence of hundreds around me and hearing the Qur’an from my favourite reciter burns me with such an intense longing that I sigh audibly every time I think of attending taraweeh prayers. I yearn to break the sweetness of the fast by biting into a cool and intense date. The Qur’an is calling me — but I barely have the time to shower, let alone read or memorize. Sometimes I feel like I shouldn’t even bother setting spiritual goals, especially when I can’t pray on time, or have the opportunity to pray with others.
Without the goal of the fast itself, this Ramadan looms over me like a massive mountain because I just don’t have the time for anything else.
Caring for the girls is eating up every spare moment I want to reserve for God. There is only so much Qur’an Eryn can take before she’s suddenly singing “Old MacDonald” while Mishary Rashed Alafasy regales us with my favourite surahs.
When I’m not feeding one, I’m putting the other to sleep. When I’m not changing diapers, I’m organising trips to the park, craft activities, cleaning and preparing meals. My shift starts at 5:30am and ends at 11:30pm — whatever break I get is usually reserved to pee, shower, brush my teeth, and squeeze in a rushed prayer. And Ivy has a particularly brilliant knack of wanting to cluster feed around the sunset prayer (my favourite).
It’s exhausting. Just as exhausting as fasting for 18 hours.
I know it won’t last forever. I chose not to fast *right now* because Ivy is only two months old — and as a breastfeeding mother I have the right to postpone my fast. As for prayer, eventually Eryn will outgrow this stage of theatrics and I can confidently take her to the mosque without fear of being shunned by members of the congregation. (Evening prayers are really, really late. Trust me. You don’t want me to bring my overtired, hyper almost-three-year-old to midnight prayers.) And when that day comes, I can stop sighing and longing.
Alhamdulillah I have a lot of help from family who are willing to hold or entertain the girls so I can pray — but praying in my room surrounded by baby toys and diapers is a completely different experience from incense and Turkish tiles.
So I’ve had to re-frame how I approach Ramadan.
I may not be participating in the physical fast, but there are plenty of things I can do to encourage the Ramadan spirit. This year I’m:
- fasting from ill-mannered speech and thoughts
- fasting from bad attitudes
- trying to keep my anger in check
- trying to be more patient
- abstaining from True Blood
- eating a date at sunset and loving it
- making up Qur’anic stories to tell to Eryn
- teaching Eryn how to give the call to prayer
- negotiating child care so I can pray in peace (and on time) as much as possible
- spending any sweet moment I can engaged in dhikr or reading the Qur’an
- burning more incense.
I may not be able to make it to the mosque or experience the cleansing of the fast this year — but I can at least find peace, blessings and thankfulness to God in little, baby fish kisses.
Fasting or not, what are you doing to engage the Ramadan spirit this year?
wood turtle 
July 28, 2012 at 1:10 pm
It is indeed difficult to “feel Ramadan” without fasting, whatever reason there may be. Very difficult. May Allah reward you for your intentions, and yes, the time WILL come when you can get back on track inshallah!!
July 30, 2012 at 12:43 am
Inshallah! Thanks Nafissa 🙂
July 28, 2012 at 1:18 pm
Salams. I understand your frustrations. I used to be queen of tarawih, tahajjud, etc. And then I had kids. Now I struggle to even focus on the fard prayers I have to do. Here’s what keeps me going, I read it a couple times during the year. Its an article on being a mother by Shaykh Nuh Ha Mim Keller. Hope it brings you as much comfort as it does to me.
“When she has her first baby, she must manage for another life even more dependent on her personal sacrifices. By the second, third, or fourth child, her days and nights belong almost entirely to others. Whether she has a spiritual path or not, such a mother can seldom resist a glance at the past, when there were more prayers, more meanings, more spiritual company, and more serenity. When Allah opens her understanding, she will see that she is engaged in one of the highest forms of worship, that of producing new believers who love and worship Allah. She is effectively worshipping Allah for as many lifetimes she has children, for the reward of every spiritual work her children do will be hers, without this diminishing anything of their own rewards: every ablution, every prayer, every Ramadan, every hajj, and even the works her children will in turn pass on to their offspring, and, so on till the end of time. Even if her children do not turn out as she wishes, she shall be requited in paradise forever according to her intention in raising them, which was that they should be godly.
Aside from the tremendous reward, within the path itself it is noticeable that many of those who benefit most from khalwa or ‘solitary retreat of dhikr’ are women who have raised children. With only a little daily dhikr and worship over the years, but much toil and sacrifice for others, they surpass many a younger person who has had more free time, effort, and ‘spiritual works.’ What they find is greater because their state with Allah is greater; namely, the awe, hope, and love of the Divine they have realized by years of sincerity to Him.” Shaykh Nuh Ha Mim Keller
July 30, 2012 at 12:46 am
What a great comment Nadiah! I’m not ususally a fan of Nuh Ha Mim Keller — but that is quite a beautiful article. Thanks for sharing it.
July 29, 2012 at 4:53 am
I, too, had a hard time with Ramadan when I was not fasting, first in my pregnancy and next when my son was very small and nursing. I missed the fasting, despite my exhaustion and inability to do it, and somehow it felt less festive. Those two years I did taraweeh for the first times and that helped a little because it brought me slightly into the Ramadan arena vs sitting alone at home. I also hoped to make some community connections this way, to share iftars and Eids with, but that didn’t really pan out. The last year and this though, I have been afraid to take my son so late, he’d either be hyper or more likely alternately asleep and cranky. It’s hard enough for him to stay awake until iftar (and possibly I should make him go to bed before… but it does add something to break fast with somebody even if it’s a small child :), and it means a lot to him). So this year, I’m focusing more on my son’s Ramadan to some extent and making it special for him, talking about and celebrating things with him that we can do while he’s awake and I’m not working. Maybe we’ll make it to the mosque at some point, though my previous experiences there don’t make me relish re-introducing my son to how I remember it, at an age where he’s much more likely to remember. To some extent I feel I’m giving up trying to find a place in this community this year… which doesn’t make me feel that good either, because isn’t that part of what holidays should be about?
July 30, 2012 at 12:50 am
You know, I feel conflicted about the community too. I yearn for the recitation in a beautiful mosque — but even if I made it to the mosque, it would probably be in the basement of a warehouse, and that’s just depressing.
I can’t wait until Eryn is old enough to be more involved!
July 30, 2012 at 12:21 am
Hey! I did not fast pregnant, and didnt last through fasting whilst nursing. This year and last Ive been on insulin, so- not fasting again. It is isolating. There is something special about abstaining from all the things I took for granted. It in some way- made me feel whole & complete. Having small children is the most difficult job Ive ever had- and Islam and lots of other things have taken a back seat. The kids needs are many and constant, and legitimate of course, and i find that if I try to skimp on one need, it backfires miserably and then we are all out of sync. Just think- as the kids grow it will get easier to enjoy ramadan by virtue of the fact they will be more active participants, and we will be able to communicate so much more with them.
Hang in there Mom. You are an incredible mother, and I am certain that you will find a way to leave a profound footprint in this holy month in your own way!
And oh- those leg rolls are sublime. My little queen only has 1 crease left in each thigh and wrist. Waaaaahhh!
Salams and hugs 🙂
July 30, 2012 at 12:54 am
You’re right — I need to work on my long-term patience 😉
It’s so sad when they start losing the baby fat! I’m going to enjoy my rolly-polly for as long as I can.
July 31, 2012 at 7:39 am
wrote a strikingly similar post at Muslimah Media Watch yesterday … I can relate to everything you’re saying here!
July 31, 2012 at 12:23 pm
I’m not surprised two mothers across the globe would have similar Ramadan experiences! I remember quite clearly (and experienced once… Never again) many taraweeh prayers where I’ve seen mothers relegated to a separate room while their children just went bonkers. And as mothers we’re expected to a) pray with that pandemonium and b) keep the kids quiet so others can experience the divine in peace. But rare is the space and dialogue that would allow mothers to have a peaceful prayer!
I’m looking forward to your interview!!
August 1, 2012 at 3:14 am
http://www.patheos.com/blogs/mmw/2012/07/ramadan-the-mother-and-activist/
Mosques drive me crazy!! Have u seen this (Very) patronizing post on Muslim Matters? http://muslimmatters.org/2012/07/27/my-dear-ramadan-stay-at-home-mom-i-salute-you/
Check the comments too … I liked maybe 1 or 2 of the points.
August 23, 2012 at 1:03 am
Getting to this late…
I’ve never been able to fast, due to hypoglycemia [I have to eat every few hours or my blood sugar dips too low & causes all sorts of health problems]. When I was working, seeing my Muslim coworkers fasting was depressing. Now that I’m no longer working outside the house, it’s still depressing reading about everyone else online fasting. I do try to be an overall better person during Ramadan, but I’m almost jealous of others’ devotion & faith — it makes me feel like mine isn’t good enough & I’ll never experience the same sort of, I don’t know…rapture? as they do [not exactly what I mean, but I can’t think of the word I want]. Then I feel worse, because jealousy & envy aren’t exactly things you’re supposed to be feeling during Ramadan. *sigh*
January 7, 2013 at 7:15 pm
[…] often since Eryn was born, I’ve become separated from the serenity of prayer. I yearn for moments of solitude, stillness of mind, or even the opportunity to pray without […]
July 20, 2013 at 9:27 pm
I loved this post!! this really hit home for me. here’s something I wrote about trying to get into the spirit..so hard!
http://reemfaruqi.com/2013/07/17/the-banished-ones/
August 5, 2013 at 10:52 pm
I really enjoyed reading your post. As a non-Muslim, it helped shed some insight on curiosities I had about Ramadan.