Last Ramadan, I found out I was pregnant, and my life changed forever.
Every year, Muslims anticipate Ramadan as the optimal time to focus on practicing self-control, reflection and restraint, while improving ourselves, developing better habits and rekindling our spiritual connection with God. But the most significant aspect of this holy month is fasting every day from dawn to dusk.
During Ramadan last year, I went to the mosque with my husband, brother and father almost every morning and Friday afternoon to pray. I also visited the mosque every night for taraweeh, special congregational prayers only offered in Ramadan. Above all, I fasted every day, apart from the last five days when my first-trimester nausea started to kick in.
This Ramadan, I knew some of these goals would not be possible now as a first-time parent with a four-month-old, so I decided to slightly adjust them. For example, I thought that since I would not be fasting this month due to breastfeeding, I would have the energy to read the entire Quran—a doable task, if you are able to read four pages after each of the five daily prayers. I also thought it might be more convenient if I offered my prayers at home instead of the mosque. On top of this, I was hoping to pray all 20 rakats of taraweeh every night.
However, I have a tendency to be a little overly ambitious. I found it incredibly difficult to find time to read the Quran, especially the chapters I do not know because they take me longer to get through.
Plus, I still feel very guilty about not fasting. It often felt like I was missing out on connecting with the Muslim community around me. Especially because I am not exclusively breastfeeding, I thought that maybe I was not putting enough effort into at least trying to fast.
But I felt even more alienated because I missed praying taraweeh in congregation every night.
I normally pray with my family when I can, but this year, it hit harder than usual whenever I could not because I needed to look after my baby. I felt even worse when this was a struggle since I was visiting the mosque less too. I felt excluded, like my prayers were not seen as important enough to be prayed in congregation.
I would at least try to listen to the Quran recitation in taraweeh, but this was also not possible at times because I did not want to distract anyone with a crying baby. So, I often had to pray taraweeh by myself. I would wait for my daughter to settle down first, but by then, I would be too tired and fall sleep, accidentally waking up just an hour before the morning prayer and rushing through only the bare minimum of eight rakats, if at all.
Overall, it was very easy to feel detached spiritually. I felt like I was not trying hard enough to balance my time working on my connection to God, while giving adequate attention to a small human depending on me for their every need. In general, our society puts a lot of pressure on mothers to reach these unrealistic, high expectations, so when we do not fulfill them because we cannot, we feel an immense amount of guilt or “mom guilt.”
This is why it was so important for me to remember that taking care of my daughter is itself considered an act of worship.
In Islam, mothers are rewarded for every sacrifice they make for their children. The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) said Paradise is beneath your mother’s feet. There are also several recorded sayings of the Prophet (peace be upon him) that illustrate how children, especially daughters, are a blessing from God and often the pathway to Paradise for their parents.
As Ramadan concludes this year and Muslims around the world celebrate Eid al-Fitr, I realized that as a new mother, you might set expectations for yourself that you will not be able to meet. You will not be able to do everything at once, and that is OK. You grew a life, then birthed, fed and clothed your child, trying to raise them the best you can — a major physical and emotional sacrifice, which is also valuable, rewarding and worthy.
An earlier version of this article was published in the print edition of the TCE April 2025 issue.
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