Three Births, Three Stories: The Memories My Body Never Forgot I have three children, and each of their births carries a different story. Yet all three live in my memory in the same way—heavy, unsettling, often returning without invitation. Even now, they replay in my mind unconsciously, bringing nausea to my thoughts. Today, I decided to let them out—to spill them onto words—and finally stop these memories from jerking me awake inside. My first delivery happened on the 29th day of Ramadan. That day, my family had planned a large iftar feast at home. Early in the morning, before Subh prayer, I woke up with an urge to urinate. I went to the toilet, passed urine, and returned to sleep. After half an hour, I woke again with the same urge—but this time, no urine came, though I still felt the need to sit in the closet. This kept repeating. When my family woke up for suhoor, my mother noticed something was wrong. After listening to me, she called my aunt. They decided we should g...
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