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MY dearest Muhammad,
I have been waiting to write these words.
You are a father.
And what a beautiful father you have already become.
As I watched you hold your precious daughter, Nadine Amina Zahra, in your arms for the very first time, I wondered if, at that very moment, you finally understood what it means to hold your own heart outside your body.
There is no love quite like it.
Perhaps now you understand, not just your mother, but every parent who has ever held a child in their arms and silently whispered,
“Ya Allah, please watch over this child when I no longer can.”
Because from the moment a child is born, a parent never stops worrying, never stops praying, and never stops loving.
That, my son, is what it truly means to become a father.
Allah first blessed your father and me with Abang Amir, our beloved eldest son. Then, nine and a half years later, He blessed us with the arrival of the rest of our children.
Those years of waiting were filled with prayers, hope, heartbreak, miscarriages and unwavering faith. They taught me never to take any child for granted.
Perhaps that is why I became such a hands-on mother.
I bathed every one of you myself.
I cooked your food.
You all slept beside me.
I wanted to be there for every milestone, every fever, every laugh and every tear.
Being a mother became my greatest privilege.
And before your brothers and sisters protest after reading this, let me make one thing perfectly clear.
Every one of my children has been loved beyond measure.
There has never been favourites.
Each of you came into my life as Allah’s gift, and each of you has always held an equal place in my heart.
A mother’s love is never divided; it simply grows with every child Allah entrusts to her.
Today, however, is your day.
Today, I celebrate my third son… because today I watched you become a father.
Life changes every time we reach another milestone.
Marriage changes us.
Then parenthood changes everything.
There goes sleeping late.
There goes getting up late.
There goes putting yourself first.
Now your priorities are Tasha and little Nadine Amina Zahra.
Enjoy these precious days while she still sleeps almost fourteen hours a day.
Believe me, very soon the nights will become her daytime, and you’ll wonder why babies arrive without an instruction manual.
Enjoy the smell of a newborn.
Her tiny fingers wrapped around yours.
Her first smile.
Her first laugh.
Her first word.
Her first step.
One day, she’ll be running through the house.
Then she’ll become a teenager.
Then one day she’ll fall in love.
And before you’re ready, another man will take her hand.
That is the way Allah designed this beautiful journey.
So treasure every ordinary day.
One day, those ordinary days will become your greatest memories.
Perhaps then you’ll understand why, whenever one of you wanted something, my answer somehow became,
“Boleh, sayang.”
And perhaps you’ll finally understand that look I used to give whenever one of you had done something you shouldn’t.
Mothers have a language all their own.
We worry without speaking.
We know before we’re told.
We forgive before we’re asked.
And we love without conditions.
Now, let me tell Nadine a little about the little boy her Babah once was.
Muhammad, you were always up to something.
Always.
Even when I couldn’t see you, somehow I knew.
Without even turning around, I would say,
“Don’t you dare!”
A few seconds later, you would appear with that cheeky grin.
“Wow, Mama… you have eyes behind your head!”
The truth was, I never had eyes behind my head.
I simply knew Muhammad.
Sometimes, before you could even finish your sentence, the words would come out of my mouth first.
You would stop, stare at me and say,
“Amazing, Mama! I was just going to say that. How did you get into my brain?”
That was us.
Some mothers read storybooks.
I read Muhammad.
You were my loudest child.
You walked at just nine months.
You spoke at eleven months.
And if I’m being honest…
I don’t think you’ve stopped talking since.
Sitting still for even ten seconds was almost impossible.
You were always on the move, always talking, always making people laugh.
You filled every room with life.
Even before you were born, you were already keeping us on our toes.
Just hours before my waters broke at two o’clock in the morning, when I was only thirty-six weeks pregnant, I had happily gone to a KRU concert.
A few hours later, I was in labour.
Needless to say, everyone panicked.
Because my previous delivery had been by Caesarean section, the doctor gently asked whether I wanted to try for a normal delivery.
A mother’s instinct is something Allah places in her heart.
Despite the pain, I looked at the doctor and said,
“Just cut me up.”
Alhamdulillah, I trusted that instinct.
When you were delivered, the umbilical cord was wrapped around your neck three times.
Allah had already placed His protection around you before I could place you in my arms.
Perhaps that is why I have always watched over you just a little more closely.
Some of my happiest memories are still our shopping trips.
They always followed exactly the same routine.
“Ternampak… terpilih… terbeli… tersign kad… terbayar… tersengih… ternampak lagi…”
It still makes me laugh.
Now you have a new shopping companion.
Although, for now, Nadine Amina Zahra can’t quite tell you which handbag she prefers.
Talking about handbags…
Yes, I bought my granddaughter her very first little red Prada handbag.
After all…
Princesses wear Prada.
You have to start somewhere.
And while your beautiful daughter has become your newest joy, never forget the woman who brought her safely into this world.
Take care of Tasha.
Love her even more now.
Motherhood changes a woman in ways no one can truly explain.
Stand beside her—not only as her husband, but as her greatest source of strength.
Thank you, Tasha, for allowing me to stand beside you in the labour room, to hold your hand and witness your courage.
You gave our family the most precious gift.
As I watched you cradle Nadine Amina Zahra, something struck me.
For the first time in your life, Muhammad, I saw you sit perfectly still.
Not because someone told you to.
But because you couldn’t stop looking at your daughter.
The little boy who could never keep quiet for more than ten seconds…
Had become the gentlest father.
Life has a beautiful way of slowing us down.
Now, my son…
Go ahead and spoil my granddaughter.
I’m her grandmother.
Spoiling her is my prerogative.
Let her wrap you around her tiny little finger.
She will.
And you’ll happily let her.
Carry her whenever she wants to be carried.
Read the same story over and over again.
Tell her every single day that she is beautiful.
Those are the privileges of being a father.
But remember this.
Insya-Allah, more babies will come.
When they do, love every one of them exactly the same.
Never let any child wonder whether another was loved more.
That is something your father and I always tried to do.
A parent’s heart is never divided.
It simply grows bigger with every child Allah blesses us with.
Babah.
It is a title earned in a moment…
but lived for a lifetime.
It comes with responsibility.
It comes with sacrifice.
It comes with sleepless nights.
It comes with worry that never truly leaves.
But above all…
it comes with a love so deep that no words can ever fully describe it.
And one final piece of motherly advice.
If your daughter refuses to stop crying…
try putting her in a bassinet lined with black-and-white polka dots.
It was the only thing that kept you quiet.
Who knows?
It might just work again.
My darling Muhammad…
You have always been full of stories.
Full of humour.
Quick-witted.
Yet beneath all that laughter has always been a heart that is gentle, kind and deeply sensitive.
Never lose that.
Nadine Amina Zahra will need exactly that father.
Congratulations, my darling son.
Today, you became a father.
And as I watched you hold your daughter, I realised something beautiful.
Little boys never really leave their mothers’ hearts.
They simply grow up to become their little girls’ heroes.
May Allah bless you, Tasha and little Nadine Amina Zahra with a lifetime of love, laughter, barakah, good health and if it is His will, many more beautiful children.
Alhamdulillah.
Mamma Mia — the name you gave me when you were little.
Tunku Azizah Aminah Maimunah Iskandariah is a master’s candidate at the International Institute of Islamic Thought and Civilisation (ISTAC), International Islamic University Malaysia.