Though this book is ultimately depressing and heartbreaking, I'm starting to enjoy reading it because of the positive reasoning she's trying to make of it all. I love the Frankenstein metaphor she uses to help relate to her personal journey.I loved it right from the start of chapter 6 where she quoted an excerpt from the novel. What a perfect quote with the right words to fit the emotions of the situation. f I find it interesting that Rapp doesn't only relate to novel, but also to the author. Kind of reminded me how we read stories of the Prophets, their wives, the companions and the struggles they face; and how these struggles are meant to help us get through ours.
As Muslims it's natural to use religion and spirituality to help make sense and bring reason to our hardships. As human it's natural for us to seek for a logical explanation. "This was the clearly the logic of the desperate and the bereaved" (p. 55). Rapps gave her readers a more logical explanation, because when tragedy strikes, and doesn't matter how religious you are, logical explanations often helps us get through.
I loved reading about her pregnancy experience, it started to bring back some wonderful memories of my own. One part in particular stood out for me: when her husband sent her an email of an ultrasound, she was so happy to to see it she shared it with another resident next to her. I remember that joy. Even more so when she said "I could hardly believe he was mine." (p. 61) That got me smiling and almost wanted to cry. I remember feeling those exact same emotions every time I saw my son in the ultrasound or heard his heartbeat. From the day he was born till present day, I will sometimes whisper in Essam's ear when I've just put him to sleep, "I can't believe you are mine. I can't believe how blessed I am". I thank Allah every day for the blessing of such irreplaceable joy and love. Alhamdulilah.
In Chapter 7, I started wondering when other people wondered why she and her husband did get tested for Tay-Sachs. This reminded me of my neighbors and my parents. Did they know from the ultrasound that their child would be born disabled or with down-syndrome?
Sorry--I haven't had a chance to post yet. Got back from Dallas today, so I'll be posting tomorrow hopefully. I've opened up the poll again. Please vote on which day you want to meet up for our book discussion. Thanks!
I've put sets of the two following weekends in December to vote on the poll for our first club meeting. In my opinion, we should try to have a "virtual meeting" at a minimum during December to wrap up the book. This way, no one has to worry about commute times, snack preparation, etc. We can all easily sit at home, in our PJs, with a cup of tea in hand, in front of our laptops and use Google Hangout. I can't imagine the discussion being more than an hour, and I'm certain everyone can manage that over a weekend.
It's been a few days (maybe weeks?) so I'm hoping I don't delve into later chapters in my comments below.
As Rapp opens the third chapter with her experience visiting hospitals during her childhood, I couldn’t help but think how much it sucks that some people are tested time and time again during their lives, with grief and hardship. Here is a woman who had her foot amputated as child, and then experiences the inevitable death of her child as an adult. Sure, there are others out there in the world with fates far worse than hers, but it still sucks. I understand that everything is already written for us, but the imbalances of the world still leave me boggled and unsettled.
The next thought I have is more logical—Rapp in particular is chosen to go through such an experience, losing her child, because she has adapted to societal responses from her childhood, and is stronger than the “average” person. She has developed into an individual who can handle the situation, and survive, both physically and emotionally.
I can only partially agree with Sana’s comments about enjoying Rapp’s descriptions of her pregnancy since I haven’t experienced it myself, but am looking forward to it. In all the scenarios I think of however, there is never one that deviates to dealing with hardships of possible illnesses or disabilities, or even changing diapers. I always think about the “happy” moments to look forward to.
The mother described in chapter 7, Sanada’s mother, is ideally how I would want to be with my children and ask questions like “Is my daughter having fun” (p.74). Compared to the other parents, she sounds so much more loving and accepting of her child, and truly looking out her daughter’s well-being.
Chapter 7 ends with “[t]he hardest part, my dear, […] is to reconcile your heart” (p. 76). It hurts to even think about having to go through process of losing a child.
That part stuck out for me too: her describing Sanada's mother. There's not a day that goes by where I fear and hope that I won't be too hard or too easy on my child.
I start to imagine something as horrid as losing my child, and I'm not exaggerating, tears roll down my face. I don't think I could ever find solace. I think I would eternally go crazy. Emily Rapp is one brave woman.
Though this book is ultimately depressing and heartbreaking, I'm starting to enjoy reading it because of the positive reasoning she's trying to make of it all. I love the Frankenstein metaphor she uses to help relate to her personal journey.I loved it right from the start of chapter 6 where she quoted an excerpt from the novel. What a perfect quote with the right words to fit the emotions of the situation. f I find it interesting that Rapp doesn't only relate to novel, but also to the author. Kind of reminded me how we read stories of the Prophets, their wives, the companions and the struggles they face; and how these struggles are meant to help us get through ours.
ReplyDeleteAs Muslims it's natural to use religion and spirituality to help make sense and bring reason to our hardships. As human it's natural for us to seek for a logical explanation. "This was the clearly the logic of the desperate and the bereaved" (p. 55). Rapps gave her readers a more logical explanation, because when tragedy strikes, and doesn't matter how religious you are, logical explanations often helps us get through.
I loved reading about her pregnancy experience, it started to bring back some wonderful memories of my own. One part in particular stood out for me: when her husband sent her an email of an ultrasound, she was so happy to to see it she shared it with another resident next to her. I remember that joy. Even more so when she said "I could hardly believe he was mine." (p. 61) That got me smiling and almost wanted to cry. I remember feeling those exact same emotions every time I saw my son in the ultrasound or heard his heartbeat. From the day he was born till present day, I will sometimes whisper in Essam's ear when I've just put him to sleep, "I can't believe you are mine. I can't believe how blessed I am". I thank Allah every day for the blessing of such irreplaceable joy and love. Alhamdulilah.
In Chapter 7, I started wondering when other people wondered why she and her husband did get tested for Tay-Sachs. This reminded me of my neighbors and my parents. Did they know from the ultrasound that their child would be born disabled or with down-syndrome?
Sorry--I haven't had a chance to post yet. Got back from Dallas today, so I'll be posting tomorrow hopefully. I've opened up the poll again. Please vote on which day you want to meet up for our book discussion. Thanks!
ReplyDeleteNeither of those two weekends work for me. I have a wedding to go this weekend, and my sister is hopefully coming the following weekend. Sorry :(.
DeleteI've put sets of the two following weekends in December to vote on the poll for our first club meeting. In my opinion, we should try to have a "virtual meeting" at a minimum during December to wrap up the book. This way, no one has to worry about commute times, snack preparation, etc. We can all easily sit at home, in our PJs, with a cup of tea in hand, in front of our laptops and use Google Hangout. I can't imagine the discussion being more than an hour, and I'm certain everyone can manage that over a weekend.
DeleteIt's been a few days (maybe weeks?) so I'm hoping I don't delve into later chapters in my comments below.
ReplyDeleteAs Rapp opens the third chapter with her experience visiting hospitals during her childhood, I couldn’t help but think how much it sucks that some people are tested time and time again during their lives, with grief and hardship. Here is a woman who had her foot amputated as child, and then experiences the inevitable death of her child as an adult. Sure, there are others out there in the world with fates far worse than hers, but it still sucks. I understand that everything is already written for us, but the imbalances of the world still leave me boggled and unsettled.
The next thought I have is more logical—Rapp in particular is chosen to go through such an experience, losing her child, because she has adapted to societal responses from her childhood, and is stronger than the “average” person. She has developed into an individual who can handle the situation, and survive, both physically and emotionally.
I can only partially agree with Sana’s comments about enjoying Rapp’s descriptions of her pregnancy since I haven’t experienced it myself, but am looking forward to it. In all the scenarios I think of however, there is never one that deviates to dealing with hardships of possible illnesses or disabilities, or even changing diapers. I always think about the “happy” moments to look forward to.
The mother described in chapter 7, Sanada’s mother, is ideally how I would want to be with my children and ask questions like “Is my daughter having fun” (p.74). Compared to the other parents, she sounds so much more loving and accepting of her child, and truly looking out her daughter’s well-being.
Chapter 7 ends with “[t]he hardest part, my dear, […] is to reconcile your heart” (p. 76). It hurts to even think about having to go through process of losing a child.
That part stuck out for me too: her describing Sanada's mother. There's not a day that goes by where I fear and hope that I won't be too hard or too easy on my child.
DeleteI start to imagine something as horrid as losing my child, and I'm not exaggerating, tears roll down my face. I don't think I could ever find solace. I think I would eternally go crazy. Emily Rapp is one brave woman.