A mother’s heartwarming tribute to her son, who defied medical odds and taught her valuable lessons about love, perseverance and faith

While the world mourns the loss of thousands of children, I am reminded of my son Yahya in each one of them. On June 3rd, 2022, we were blessed with Yahya, but not in the way that most parents experience. His arrival was unexpected and certainly unwelcome under the circumstances. An emergency that changed everything for us occurred, not in broad daylight, but under the dark layers of night that seemed to mourn with us.

“You are going to be operated on,” the doctor said. “But how? It’s too early,” I responded, confused and unsure of what was happening. I had no choice but to submit to the experts. Prepped for the unpredictable journey ahead, I felt lost. At 11:30 P.M., a baby was born. His tiny feet were the first thing I saw, and miraculously, he was alive. Tears choked me as I thanked Allah.

But Yahya was rushed to the NICU, and I left the operating room empty-handed. There was no celebration, no sweets to distribute. Instead, my elderly parents stood by my side, and my husband and siblings rushed to the NICU. We divided our roles—some stayed with me, while others waited for Yahya’s recovery.

Do you know what it feels like to deliver a child and not hold them in your arms? I didn’t, until Yahya. I used to think pregnancy was a 9-month journey culminating in a baby’s birth and celebration. That day, I realized it was a blessing from Allah, and how fortunate those are who are blessed with healthy children.

Only Allah knows what happened inside the NICU. We weren’t allowed in for obvious reasons—these little angels were fighting for survival. On the fifth day of Yahya’s life, he was diagnosed with a staphylococcus bacterial infection. His tiny body was bloated, and the doctors said he wouldn’t survive. But he did. Then he was diagnosed with meningitis, an infection that had reached his brain. Again, the doctors said he wouldn’t survive. But he did.

He had contracted a hospital-acquired infection (HCAI), a concerning issue in India. As Chinmayi Balusu notes in a peer-reviewed article, HCAI prevalence in Indian hospitals can range from 4.4% to 83.09%, significantly higher than in wealthier nations. These infections come with immense costs, long-term disabilities, and resistance to antibiotics.

On the 15th day, Yahya was finally discharged from the NICU. I rushed to the hospital to hold him for the first time. Surprisingly, I didn’t cry. I was simply relieved. “Assalamualaikum, Yahya,” I whispered. Thus began our journey together for the next several months.

But my joy faded as doctors continued deliberating on Yahya’s condition. Words like “meningitis” and “ventriculitis” banged in my ears. The naive me was being introduced to the harsher side of life. The doctors, in their medically transparent yet emotionally brutal words, explained the potential outcomes: loss of sight, hearing, and even paralysis. Devastated, I sought any glimmer of hope.

I remember breaking down one day, asking Dr. Javaid, “Is there even 1% hope of normalcy?” He replied, “Yes, ma’am, miracles do happen.”

Through Yahya, Allah introduced me to the unseen realm—the realm of miracles. I discovered the true meaning of hope when all other doors seemed closed. Yahya underwent multiple surgeries, battling severe and persistent infections. We moved from one hospital to another, seeking the best treatment. But Yahya defied the odds. He could see, hear, eat, drink—and most importantly, he could smile. He was the most smiling child I had ever seen. Contrary to medical expectations, where 98% of such cases result in mortality, Yahya survived.

For me, he was my Musa (Moses), the one I believed Allah would return to me whole and healthy, and my Yousuf (Joseph), who would be reunited with me after long years of pain.

Yahya’s medical condition affected his milestones, and he required physiotherapy to achieve what other children naturally do. This journey taught me how ungrateful we often are for the simple blessings of life, blessings only Allah can bestow. Yahya’s battle ended on September 6th, 2023, at 15 months old. Through him, Allah taught me profound lessons about love, perseverance, and faith.

For all his life, I loved him, talked to him, recited duas for him, and shared his favorite Surah Rahman with him. Yahya passed away while I was reciting that very Surah to him. He was truly a miracle from Allah.

May Yahya be among the sabireen (the patient) in the company of prophets and the righteous, my beloved son. Ameen.

By Dr Zaira Ashraf Khan

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Dr Zaira Ashraf Khan