INTRODUCTION
Assalamualaikum.
It's 2026 now. My last post was definitely back in 2014. Twelve years ago.
First and foremost, Alhamdulillah 'ala kulli haal. For all the good and the bad throughout these twelve years.
Anyway.
I am a mother now. A mother of one. I named her Maryam Helena, and she is three years old.
Oh yes, I am a single mother.
Life was good until I met her father sometime in 2022. It wasn't long before I found myself pregnant with his child.
What followed was a chapter of my life I never thought I would have to live through.
CHAPTER 1: HER FATHER
I was physically abused. Many times. More times than I could ever count.
I still remember one particular night, vividly. I was about six or seven months pregnant when he dragged me out of the house by my legs and kicked me out.
I can still remember how my baby, still inside my womb, was moving so frantically. I could feel her movements. I even have a video of that moment.
Imagine being pregnant, carrying your own child, and having to experience something like that.
I eventually sought help from an NGO to give birth to her. I reported him to the police and went to the hospital.
After giving birth, I ran away. But foolishly, I went looking for him again. Perhaps I was too young, too hopeful, or too blinded by whatever I thought love was back then.
And the abuse continued.
I was knocked unconscious countless times. Just one month after giving birth, I was already attending job interviews, trying to find a way to provide for my newborn. Two months later, I finally got a job.
Rezeki anak.
When Maryam was around three months old, he lost his temper again. He tried to hit me, but this time, he accidentally hit our daughter instead.
I don't remember exactly when everything changed. I don't remember the exact day I finally decided that enough was enough.
But I remember what happened next.
I left.
Completely.
And I have never returned.
Do I hate him? Yes.
Have I forgiven him? I honestly don't know.
I don't even want to hear his name anymore. I don't know whether he is still alive or where he is now. And frankly, I don't want to know.
I am not waiting for an apology. I am not waiting for an explanation. I am not waiting for him to come back and acknowledge what he did.
Even in the hereafter, when we stand before Allah for the final judgment, I will leave everything to Him.
Let Allah judge. Let Allah settle every injustice, every wound, every tear and every cruelty.
I don't want to deal with him anymore.
He were once a chapter in my life, but he will never be the author of my daughter's future.
I have spent enough years surviving what he put me through.
Now, I just want to live.
And I hope he know this. Despite everything he did, I still managed to raise the little girl he once put in danger.
She is three now.
And she is loved.
CHAPTER 2: MY FAMILY
As my family,
I know they remember those days.
They knew I was pregnant because of domestic violence. It wasn't a pregnancy that came with a happy beginning. It came with fear, trauma and uncertainty.
Back then, I was unemployed. I had quit my job as an engineer because I was pregnant. I had no stable income, no proper plan and no guarantee that I could raise a child on my own.
I understood why they were worried.
They didn't believe I could take care of this baby.
They insisted that I start a new life. They wanted me to give Maryam to another family, perhaps someone who could provide her with a better future.
I know they probably thought it was the most practical decision.
And perhaps, from where they stood, it made sense.
But I was selfish.
Yes, selfish.
I wanted to keep my baby. I wanted to carry her, hold her, raise her and watch her grow.
I knew it would come with a price. I knew I would have to sacrifice things. I knew my life would never be the same again.
And it really wasn't.
Since I gave birth to Maryam, I have never celebrated Hari Raya back in our hometown again. I missed home.
Twelve years of memories, and suddenly, I found myself missing the simplest things.
I miss those good old days. I miss the family gatherings, the familiar atmosphere, the laughter and the feeling of coming home without having to think twice.
Sometimes, I wish things could have been different.
My relationship with the family has changed in certain ways. I know Maryam has been accepted into the family, and I am grateful for that.
But there are still certain occasions when I choose not to come home.
Not because I don't miss everyone.
But because I want to respect my mother. I know she feels embarrassed by my circumstances, and I don't want to put her in a position where she feels uncomfortable.
Perhaps people will never understand what that feels like.
To miss your own family but still choose to stay away.
To long for home but know that sometimes, your presence might make someone uncomfortable.
But there is something I hope they will understand.
When everyone questioned whether I could raise this child, I was already thinking about how I could protect her.
When everyone thought I should give her away, I was thinking about how I could keep her.
Because if I didn't stand up for my own daughter, who would?
If the whole world rejected her, who would hold her?
I couldn't bear the thought of giving away the little human being I had carried inside me, especially after everything we had already endured together.
I knew I wasn't financially ready. I knew I wasn't emotionally prepared. I knew I had no idea what motherhood would demand from me.
But I chose her anyway.
I am not writing this to blame anyone. I know they had their reasons. I know they were worried about my future, and perhaps they were trying to save me from a difficult life.
But I hope they understand that I wasn't trying to make my life harder.
I was simply trying to protect the child I had already fallen in love with.
I miss my family. I miss home.
But if I had to make that same decision again, knowing everything I know today, I would still choose Maryam.
Because I was her mother before anyone else decided whether she deserved a place in this family.
And I will never regret that.
I hope one day, when they look at Maryam, they will see more than the circumstances of her birth.
They will see a little girl who deserves nothing less than love, happiness and a beautiful childhood.
She is not a mistake.
She is family, too.
CHAPTER 3: MY DAUGHTER
My little girl is three now.
Sometimes, I look at her and find it hard to believe how far we have come.
There is so much behind this little girl’s smile that people may never know. A story that began long before she was born.
She was there with me through everything, even before she took her first breath.
I wanted her. I wanted to be her mother. I wanted to raise her, hold her when she cried, witness her first smile, hear her first words and be there for every little milestone.
Choosing to keep her wasn't an easy decision, but it was one I never regretted.
She was just a baby who deserved to be loved, protected and given a chance at life.
I made that choice, and I have never expected her to repay me for it.
I don't expect her to give me a better life because I sacrificed certain things along the way. I don't expect her to become successful just to make my struggles worthwhile. I don't expect her to take care of me out of guilt.
I want her to grow, dream and live her own life.
More than anything, I want her to have the childhood I always hoped she would have. A childhood where she feels safe, where she can laugh freely, express herself without fear and never have to be afraid of the people who are supposed to love her.
I want her to remain the little girl who dances whenever she hears music, sings whenever she feels like it, greets strangers with her little voice and expresses herself without hesitation.
I never want the world to take that away from her.
She deserves to experience the beautiful things in life, without having to earn them through suffering.
Looking back, there were so many moments when I questioned myself. Moments when I worried about our future, struggled financially, rebuilt my career from scratch and wondered whether I was doing enough.
I wasn't always strong. There were days when I cried, days when I felt exhausted and days when I wished I had someone to lean on.
But I kept going.
I worked, rebuilt my career, learned to stand on my own feet and slowly created a life for the two of us.
I don't know whether I have been the perfect mother. I probably haven't. I am still learning, still making mistakes and still trying to become a better person every day.
But one thing I know for certain is that I have never regretted choosing this life with her.
Not even once.
Maryam is not a burden I had to carry. She is my greatest blessing.
I may not have had the perfect circumstances to become a mother, and our story may not have started the way I once imagined, but I am grateful that I got to be hers.
I carried her for nine months, but motherhood has taught me that love is not just about bringing a child into this world. It is about showing up, protecting, providing and choosing to keep going, even on the days when life feels impossibly difficult.
I chose this journey willingly. I will never make her feel responsible for the things I went through.
I just hope that, as she grows older, she will always know that she was wanted, she was loved, and she was never a mistake.
I love her dearly, Maryam Helena.
Lillahi Taala.
CLOSING
I lost a lot of things along the way. A relationship, a home I once knew, family gatherings, and perhaps the life I had once imagined for myself. But I never lost the one thing I fought so hard to keep; my daughter.
And through every tear, every struggle and every uncertain step, Allah was there. I may never understand why my journey had to be this way, but I know He never left me to walk it alone.
Alhamdulillah.
.jpeg)
The Life I Chose - An Untold Story of Motherhood, ...