Sixty Seven Stitches
Right before they put me under, I remember I kept saying my shahadah. Not one tear was shed as I slowly lost consciousness. Alhamdulillah, I was ready for whatever Allah had planned for me…
Seven hours later, I remember waking up to my dad’s smile and my mom’s comfort, and back to sleep I went.
I remember the very moment I realized that every little thing had to become a goal.
I remember the first time I sat up by myself. I remember the first time I finally got my feet to touch the ground. I remember the first steps I took alone.
My dad would come every day right after work and take laps with me around the hospital hallways with my walker. I remember looking up and envying everyone around me. How they had the ability to walk and go wherever they pleased struggle-free. They made it look so easy lol
I remember pushing myself every day working through blood, sweat, and tears, until finally, after 2 weeks I was able to walk out hand-in-hand with my parents.
I remember feeling the sun beaming directly on my face. The smell of the rich, green grass and the air flowing through my hijab. I told myself I would never take any of these things for granted…
Here I am two years and seven months later, thinking about how I felt. I will never forget. 67 stitches that will forever remind me of how strong I really am. Alhamdulillah.