My voice is filling every hole in the air. Never in my life did I think I had such an ability to scream. It feels as if I have stored up all my past quietness in order to explode in one moment.
It is a moment scattered into a million pictures. An endless queue of cars, all pausing when they reach the soldier at the end of the line. The leaves settling slowly on the banks of the Barada. An old lady selling bread. Boys racing. The sun on the courtyard of the Umayyad Mosque.
The pain is getting worse, but I am still alive. I am like the child who cuts her fingers on wrapping paper because she is so impatient to reach her present.
A minute later, you become my present. My gift is a soul blown into a tiny body. Everything in life is summed up in one word: “Mummy.”
I am so happy I could deliver my baby in Damascus, despite the circumstances. Asli was born in October 2013. For me, this is the moment that has changed everything.
Image: Kyle May, via Creative Commons
