My testimony and 2nd anniversary of gratitude

Two years ago, I got up questioning what had happened a few hours earlier.

The uncontrollable shaking and coldness, the heaviness of my chest and my heart that raced for hours. I remember feeling like the experience was spiritual in some way but nothing else seemed rational. As I climbed out of the bed and from under the five blankets that morning, I was exhausted but the list of things to do before I made my way back to the Neo Natal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) kept my mind occupied. I pumped milk, made the grocery and market run, got back home to shower and pump again and scrambled out of the house. The hospital called somewhere in between to ask if we were coming and my head and heart were racing again.

Someone else called as I was rushing and pushing through the pains and she said, “Are you crying yet!” I remember having a panic attack because when you have a baby in NICU for as long as we did, you prepare yourself for anything. My mind said: “The person on the other line is not in Trinidad—whatever you are thinking and whatever she is talking about are two totally different things!” I couldn’t stop the panic attack as I slid down behind the bedroom door and sat on the floor struggling to breathe again, feeling the beads of sweat appearing on my forehead and arms. I told the person I was rushing out and I’d speak to them later because, to be honest, I couldn’t process anything right then and there.

I vaguely remember the door being knocked on from the other side and I somehow managed to scramble myself up—I opened it and although I could see my daughter’s lips moving, all I could hear was the ringing in my ear, I shook my head and pretended that I was fine. The sound came back, and I heard myself respond ‘yes’. In the moment, I felt like everything was moving in slow-motion and lightning speed all at the same time. It was like experiencing something, a moment, but stepping out of your body and watching it happen. Sometime after, I discovered a few people had called me during that time, and I still can’t tell you what exactly was discussed.

Months later, I was made aware of someone claiming that I had a negative reaction to their big news while I was having my episode. God, in His infinite wisdom, gave me the clearest message that even when you’re at your absolute lowest and He’s fighting to save you, someone—even someone in your inner circle—could be plotting with Satan to bring you lower.

There was an amazing report from the doctor that day but as we walked into the NICU. I saw a blanket covering him and my heart raced again. Aleem looked extra beautiful that day: his eyes sparkled like two glass marbles in the ocean under a midday sun and his skin seemed to glisten. All of his organs were confirmed to be healthy, the small hole in his heart no longer existed, the infection marker had finally dropped, and we left the nurse getting ready to give him his first feed in days. I left that room feeling like I was carrying bricks under my feet, my mind focused on the blanket that was covering him. His doctor told us he was just cold because they had left the incubator door open for an extended period and there was no reason to worry but my heart raced again. Looking back now I believe that just as God as our Father and Mary as our Mother always know and feels our pain, so too is the connection between our earthly children and parents. Aleem was cold and trembling the same way I was a few hours before.

Twenty minutes after we left the hospital, the call came that Aleem had flatlined for the first time. I couldn’t scream; I couldn’t react. My husband needed to drive us back to the hospital. My mind raced. I couldn’t focus. Two lines into ‘Our Father’ and I couldn’t remember anything more of the prayer. I took a deep breath, grabbed the phone and typed “Aleem flatlined—pray warrior assemble!” and sent it!

A village began the prayer chain, all the way up to Mt St Benedict and in that moment I heard God say “for where two or more are gathered in my name, there am I in the midst of them”.  I gained enough composure when we were walking back down the corridor to the NICU to tell my husband that our son had flat-ined a few minutes earlier. I watched his body become weak as he continued his stride, visibly shaking. Our son came back to us twice within the next hour and by the third time, I walked away from everyone and whispered “God, if he has to suffer—bring him back to you!

At that moment I understood that God was the only author of our story, and I needed to trust Him the same way I had trusted Him for all of those months when man said that Aleem wouldn’t even have survived the first trimester. I believed in my God and Aleem defied all the odds. He was perfect, his body was healed and God and I had already proven that He alone always has the final say

By the time the doctor called us in and led us into a room instead of back to Aleem’s incubator, I already knew he was gone. I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t feel anything but gratitude to God for what he had done. God made me the vessel for a miracle and an angel. Aleem’s little body was the catalyst for the biggest test of my faith—he brought others back to God, he made his parents stronger and his spirit became the shield that continues to protect me from everything that is meant for evil in this world.

There are people in this world who fear death but recently in a conversation with my husband, I found myself telling him that if I die before him be certain that I’m wearing comfortable shoes and that Aleem’s blanket is with me. Between my son, my mother and my Aunty Lynette, I realise that I have as much love within Heaven’s doors as I have on Earth. I’m not wishing for death anytime soon but, I do view it as something beautiful when it comes because all of them would be there to greet me at the pearly gates

On Tuesday, July 22, 2025 as I mourned the second anniversary of Aleem’s passing, I give thanks to the village of prayer warriors that stood with us in the gap both during Aleem’s life and after his death. I’m grateful to have been chosen to be the mother of the purest form of an angel—born pure of sin, was baptised and left this world never having been touched by sin. I’m thankful for my son RJ who lost the baby brother that he prayed so hard for but used his own loss as a catalyst to understanding God’s love and promise to always bless him. I’m grateful for the overwhelming blessings that I know have come through our angel’s interceding on our behalf. I’m even grateful for the other losses I’ve suffered because God heard conversations and saw plots that I couldn’t while I silently grieved.

This is the day that the Lord has made-—let us rejoice and be glad in him

Aleem Rapha Mohamed

June 6, 2023- July 22, 2023

Photo by Jens Könnicke on Unsplash