A Request – A request from every father and mother to read and follow the following advice:

Praise your child in front of others.
Don't make him/her criticize himself/herself. Tell him/her 'Please' & 'Thank you'. Treat him/her as a child, and let him live his/her childhood.
Assist him/her to make decisions. Encourage him/her to read the Holy Quran Daily.
Consider him/her a guest of honour in ...one of the occasions.Ask him/her for his opinion and take his/her advice on some matter.

Dedicate a corner for their work and write his name on the achievements.Assist him/her to choose good friends.Make them feel important and that ALLAH has given them capabilities.
Teach them to pray and instill in the principles of Iman (faith in ALLAH).
Teach them the skills of expressing opinions and presenting them to others.
Teach him/her how to read instructions and follow them.

Teach them how to set principles & duties for themselves and follow them.Teach him/her First Aid skills.
Answer all his/her questions.
Keep your promise(s) to him/her.
Teach them simple cooking skills (e.g. boiling eggs, warming bread etc).
Teach him/her the Importance and the Power of Baraka and supplication.
Teach him/her how to work within a team.
Encourage him/her to ask questions.

Make him/her feel he/she is important among their friends.
Explain to him/her the reason for any decision you take.
Be with him/her on the first day of school.
Tell him/her stories from your childhood.
Make your child play the role of the teacher and you the role of the student. Educate your child how he/she can be found if he gets lost.
Teach him/her how to say (No) to wrong doings/things.
Teach him/her to grant and give to others.

Give him/her enough money to take/make proper action when/if needed. Encourage him/her to memorize and recall.
Teach him/her to defend himself.
Answer his/her queries and doubts (about himself).
Do not threaten him/her at all.
Teach him/her how to face failure.
Teach him/her how to invest his money.
Try something new for him/her and you with the results known in advance.
Teach him/her how to mend his things and keep them tidy.

Share his/her dreams and aspirations and encourage him/her to have them.
Teach the differences between male and female in the light of the Quran.
Teach him/her the good values and principles.
Teach him/her to be responsible for his/her actions.
Praise his/her works and achievements and teach them to write them down.
Teach him/her how to deal with pets.
Apologize to him/her for your real mistakes.
Make one day of the week, a day of surprises to him/her.

shared by I love Islam

In the name of Allah, the Most Gracious, Most Merciful

MAHMOUD

When I found out that my mother was pregnant, I could not help but laugh. Weren’t five children more than enough? I guess not…since the typical Arab family must consist of at least five million kids. Actually, my laughter subsisted as a mere blanket over my true feelings of frust...ration. I have to admit, although I love children, the thought of having another little critter in the house was not on my “what I want for Eid” list. The youngest of us was eight years old at the time, so it has been a while without dirty diapers, late night cries, baby food, and toys all over the place. Not only that, but I was about to start college and I knew that having a baby around would require a lot of additional energy and time from all of us. I was, indeed, aggravated that day when I found out my mom was pregnant. My mother’s response remained clear and simple: this baby is from Allah (swt) and Allah (swt) knows best. From that moment on, no one else complained.

Alhumdulillah, the next nine months went by smoothly. Only 37 years old, my mother’s health and experience proved to be an advantage during the pregnancy process. During that time frame, I began to accept the idea of a new addition to the family. In fact, I even started shopping for baby necessities. The question soon began to arise: is it a boy or a girl? My mom wanted to keep it a surprise, but we could not wait that long. A couple of visits to the doctor proved that my mom held within her a healthy baby boy! Right away, we excitedly debated over a name. We even bought a book with ideas. Hours were spent jokingly arguing about it. Of course, we never agreed on a name.

The time had finally come. Seconds felt like minutes. Minutes felt like hours. Hours felt like eternity. Worry, excitement, pain…every emotion was felt that day. Alhumdulillah, on August 8, 2002, my mother gave birth to a healthy, baby boy. The athan was recited in his right ear, then his left ear. The doctor came to take the baby so that my mother could get settled in a room of her own. About four hours after the delivery, my mother asked to see her baby. The nurse left with eagerness to bring him. After what felt like hours, she returned…empty handed. Her face was white, as if she had just seen a ghost. Stuttering, she told my mother that the doctor wanted to speak to her. Right behind the nurse stood the doctor (who was also Muslim). “Mrs. Abuakar, I heard you have five children,” the doctor stated. “No, I have 6 kids; 3 boys and 3 girls,” my mother responded with a smile. “This child just wasn’t your naseeb. Allah (swt) took his soul,” the doctor replied with the utmost confidence. My mother let out a shaky laugh, “you’re joking right?” “I’m sorry,” the doctor uttered. “We left him on life support to give you a chance to say goodbye to him.”

What happened next cannot be put into words. My mother had fainted. My family was crying. My father was on the phone speaking to the Sheikh about the process for an Islamic funeral of a baby. I was confused. How did this happen? What went wrong? So many questions, not a single answer. The only thing we were told was that he had somehow lacked oxygen for a couple of hours. As a result, he died. They said he had an irreversible loss of the flow of vital fluids, an irreversible loss of capacity for bodily integration, an irreversible loss of capacity for social interaction. By all medical definitions, he was dead. The only thing keeping him from being taken away was the life support. He was not even a candidate for support, but the hospital was required to try it. Every available machine was hooked on his body. His heart could not beat on its own. Even with all the machines, it was barely beating. His body could not even maintain homeostasis. A light source lay on top of his “cage” to keep his temperature regulated. His body could not even accept oxygen. A ventilator and respirator were his only source of breath. He was in a coma. The chances of him even surviving (with life support) were one in a million. And even if he were to surpass the coma, he would be (and I quote the doctor)… a ‘vegetable’.

When my mother regained consciousness, she asked to see her baby. The doctor allowed her only 15 minutes to see him. I remember the feeling of that room. All you see are machines. All you hear are alarms and beeping. Rows and rows of babies. Some of them were born premature. Others were born sick. All of them, however, had a chance for survival. My mother sat next to him. She could barely even see his body (it was all covered up with the machines). She had to sanitize herself and wear special clothes. She was not even allowed to touch her baby. All she could do was sit next to him and recite Quran to him. And she did just that. For those short few minutes, she just sat next to him and recited. The doctors finally told her that she had to say goodbye. There was absolutely nothing that could be done. There was absolutely no purpose for the machines; for they could not bring back life to a dead body, only prolong its existence. My mother refused. In her heart, she could not say goodbye. She pleaded and pleaded with the hospital to keep him on life support. They argued and claimed that it will only hurt her more. My mother kept fighting against them. She told them that they have nothing to lose, to just leave the machines until Allah (swt) decides to say goodbye. She wanted to take that risk (the one in a million chance of survival). She was willing to accept him, no matter his condition. She told the doctors that she wants this baby, even if he is a vegetable.

My mother decided to name the baby “Mahmoud” after her father. Mahmoud lay hopelessly “dead” in the hospital. Every day, the doctors would tell my mother to say goodbye because his situation was hopeless. But everyday, my mother just sat there and made duaa for him. We all did. Although there were times that we did lose hope and felt that maybe the doctors were right, we saw how strongly our mother felt about leaving things in Allah’s (swt) hands. SubhanAllah, after 18 days of absolutely no life, a nurse swore that she saw Mahmoud open his eye for a second. A couple of days later, he was partially out of coma. His gray eyes would just stare at us, pleading for us to hold him, to save him.

They call Mahmoud the “Miracle Baby” at Christ Hospital. SubhanAllah. After two months, he had the quickest improvement ever witnessed. Within that week when he first opened his eyes, his body started to accept oxygen, and an oxygen-feeding tube replaced the ventilator. After three months, we took him home with all his machines. Our entire family room became his nursing room. Every minute was interrupted with alarms and beeping from his machines. Slowly, his body started to regain life. By the end of the sixth month, he was able to breath, eat, and live on his own without machines. SubhanAllah how Allah (swt) can bring life to the dead.



Mahmoud is our symbol of hope. He is not a vegetable. In fact, his mental capacity and ability to reason are well beyond the level of his peers. With the help of therapy, he is now learning to walk.



I wouldn’t change our experience with Mahmoud for the world. He has taught us many things: patience, hope, appreciation for life and its simple blessings like breathing. He has taught us to keep our faith in Allah (swt) strong. Allah (swt) tests his believers with trails and tribulations. Everything happens for a reason. Everything happens from Allah (swt) and Allah (swt) knows best.


Here is a poem written by my mom:



As I walked the never ending steps to the room of special care,

I washed my hands, put on a special gown,


For everything must be sterilized and clean.

I entered the room and saw babies everywhere lying in beds...hopeless

Wearing only diapers and machines.

Sounds of nurses and doctors, but mostly you hear alarms going off and loud screams;

Mothers holding their babies and rocking them to sleep.

I asked, “Can I hold my baby please?”

The nurse answered, “Sorry my dear. For your child is too sick.

No one is allowed to touch or to him be near.”

I closed my eyes trying to hide my tears,

Without realization, I fell into a deep, deep sleep.

I had the most beautiful, sweetest dream.

I’m holding my baby, reciting Quran, while I rock him to sleep.

I awoke to the voice of a doctor calling to me,

Then I realized it was only just a happy dream.

I prayed to God and hoped for that dream to someday be a reality

Written by Lamies Abubakar


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