Postpartum depression is a terrible but very common condition that becomes lost in our need to make the conversation about a woman’s journey from pregnancy to motherhood positive and sanguine. Because of these rosy conversations women often assume having a baby will be nothing but joy and cuddles. It should come naturally…
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I am a Syrian American mom of three children living in Michigan, and I always felt I had an obligation to serve those in need, especially children. Once I learned of the reality of Muslim children in foster care and the lack of Muslim homes licensed to care for these…
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It’s only a matter of time before what’s on every news channel and on every Facebook feed bleeds into our children’s consciousness, or those of their classmates at school. And that makes it a good time to talk to our children about their bodies, boundaries, inappropriate touching, and sexual abuse….
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Remember the clock kid, Ahmed? He was honored by President Obama for his ingenuity and scholastic achievement after he was put in handcuffs and arrested at his own school for the same. He lives with his family in Qatar now, because of safety concerns after he became a target of…
Read MoreDear Neighbor: I want you to know that I take your Trump sign personally. I take it personally because I have a vagina, or as your favored candidate might say, a “p***y.” My daughter has one, too. And I figure if you’re okay with a p***y-grabber for President, you might…
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This election cycle has been difficult to experience, even for adults. Civil conversations and respect for diversity have been sidelined, and the loudest voices in politics and on television now are frighteningly extreme. Unsurprisingly the hateful rhetoric has filtered into American schools. The Southern Poverty Law Center (SPLC) has just…
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This piece is a follow up to the essay, “Accidentally Childfree”.
“Do you want to be in your marriage?” She asked me, matter-of-factly.
For months I wrestled with this question, always too afraid to broach it during daylight hours. But here we were, in her bright little office, and her words flooded the room.
On that day, I did not have an answer for her.
altM’s Asma Uddin and Mariam Ahmed reflect in the Washington Post: “Where was I before God made me?” asks 4-year-old Eesa. Zaynab, 8, thinks Heaven will probably look like her Candyland game board: “The bushes will grow candy!” Eight-year-old Hamza wonders if God knows when he tells Mommy he’s too…
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The past six Ramadans, I rise before the sun does. It’s not to eat suhoor, nor do I prepare it for my husband. I trudge by him as he groggily slurps down a bowl of O’s, we exchange a look of mutual exhaustion. It’s a call that summons me awake, reminding me that there’s something greater than sleep. Motherhood.
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Becoming a dad ruined my life. Now, before you fire up an angry e-mail, delete my blog from your bookmarks, or un-follow me on Twitter, let me offer some context. I’ve been a dad for about five-and-a-half years now, and with this past weekend marking the annual occurrence that is Father’s Day, I got to thinking about just how wildly off course my life has veered…
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