May 2026 :: The Month You Came to Us

May 1

We hosted a couple of friends last night: MMR and SRS. Both Bangladeshis and married to each other. SRS and I studied together in Kiel and shared a dorm. MMR visited often, and we all became close. Later they moved to Karlsruhe for MMR's studies. Now, due to family commitments, they are leaving Germany, perhaps for a long time or even permanently. They came to say goodbye.

We had a wonderful evening reminiscing about old times. Today, as I finally bid them farewell, my eyes welled up. All those golden moments flashed before me: our addabaji in Kiel, spontaneous cooking plans, playful teasing and what not. SRS could barely speak, her voice breaking. She struggled to hold back tears.

Goodbyes are always challenging, especially with close ones. And that's not weakness. It's a profound strength. The power of love and compassion. I genuinely pray you grow to embrace that power, my son. Always love your family and friends deeply.

I wish SRS and MMR all the best for their future. Hopefully we'll meet again in Bangladesh, or even back in Germany. Who knows.

May 2

What a bad day it was. A series of failures from start to finish.

The plan was a short day trip with Frankfurt friends. Eight of us in total. But in the morning, one couple had to cancel due to an emergency. The rest met at the station, ready to go.

We headed to Ingelheim, a village near Mainz, to see tulip fields. It wasn't far, and we arrived on time. But the fields were far smaller than expected. The women in the group, especially your Daroga Khala, were utterly disappointed. We took a few photos, wandered the town a bit. Nothing special. Then we couldn't agree on the next stop. No one had a clear plan, everyone wanted something different. After much debate, we decided on the riverside in Mainz.

When we got there, some wanted to cross a bridge to the other side. We had no idea it lacked a direct exit to the riverbank and stretched nearly 2 kilometers. We walked and walked with no stairs in sight. It felt like a trap. I was especially worried about your mother. She was getting tired, and her mealtime was nearing. After over an hour, we finally reached the riverside. We took a short break, had snacks, then walked another 30 minutes to the station.

For dinner, we aimed for Frankfurt. But we missed the bus. So we stayed in Mainz and found a Lebanese restaurant on Google, supposedly open until 9 pm. We arrived at 7:10, and the manager said they were closing. Ahh! Next was an Indian place, luckily open. We finally ate there. We got home around 10 pm. A short day trip turned into a complete fiasco. I hope your mother stays well, though she's exhausted.

May 6

Today is deeply special for both of us. It is our 10th wedding anniversary. On this day in 2016, we tied the knot, and somehow the years have flown by so quickly that it still feels like yesterday. I feel incredibly lucky to have your mother beside me through all these years, because without her, this journey would have been much harder and lonelier. And it fills my heart with joy to know that you are arriving right around our 10th anniversary.

We had planned to go out for dinner tonight, but had to cancel at the last moment. Work kept me busy, and your mother was not feeling well either. So we decided to save the celebration for the weekend, when we can enjoy it properly together.

May 8

As you grow bigger your little kicks and movements are becoming more and more noticeable. Every night before bed, my favorite moment is placing my hand on your mother’s belly and feeling you move beneath it. It is a quiet but beautiful feeling that fills my heart with joy.

You are becoming a very strong little one, inshallah.

May 10

We finally went out today to celebrate our 10th anniversary, and it felt like the perfect way to mark such a special milestone. We chose Oberschweinsteig, a lovely restaurant tucked deep in the forest, and even the ride there felt memorable. The small tram carried us through the trees while the sun shone down and a cool breeze followed us along the way. It was one of those lunches where the setting itself makes you slow down and breathe a little deeper.

After lunch, your mother wanted a dessert treat, and for once I did not object too much. With her high sugar level, I would usually be more careful, but today felt different. It was a day for a little indulgence, a little softness, and a little celebration.

From there, we went to Konstablerwache for coffee and cake, then took a walk along the Main riverbank. While crossing the iron bridge, we noticed someone preparing decorative locks for couples to place there. We had seen tourists do it before, but never really imagined doing it ourselves. Yet today, to mark our 10th anniversary, we bought a lock and hung it on the bridge before heading home. It felt like a small but meaningful gesture, something to quietly hold on to.

You may be wondering if I gave her a gift. Yes and no. I had ordered something special for her, but the delivery was delayed, so I could not give it to her on the day. Still, the day itself already felt like a gift.

May 11

Today was one of those days that left a heavy feeling behind. I went into my appraisal meeting at work hoping for understanding and a bit of encouragement, but it didn’t turn out that way. My boss, with his constant perfectionism, zoomed in on tiny mistakes and made them feel much bigger than they really were. It was frustrating, exhausting, and honestly quite disheartening.

By the time it was over, I felt fed up. My motivation to work with him is almost gone, and today made that feeling even stronger.

May 13

I still can’t get the appraisal meeting out of my head. It keeps lingering over me, weighing on my mind more than I would like. And beyond that, there is so much else occupying my thoughts.

Of course, there is you. Every day now feels like a countdown. Then there is your mom, and the constant responsibility of watching over her health and being careful about her diet. On top of that, work has been demanding, and I have been feeling a little overwhelmed. There is also some financial pressure adding to it all. Carrying so much on my shoulders at once can be difficult at times.

May 14

Your nani is coming tomorrow. We spent much of the day on the phone with Dhaka, helping with her luggage and taking care of the administrative tasks. Now all we can do is hope and pray that she arrives safely and soundly.

May 15

Your nani finally arrived today, and we went to the airport to welcome her. Your mom was so overwhelmed with joy to see her mother after such a long time, and they held each other tightly for several seconds. It was one of those rare, beautiful moments that stay in your heart forever, full of warmth, relief, and love.

She also brought some lovely gifts for you. Your khalamoni Nishi had knitted two adorable pairs of socks, and they completely melted our hearts. I can already imagine how sweet they will look on your tiny little legs.

And as always in a Bengali family, the suitcase came packed with plenty of food from your Nana and Dida, especially for your mother. It may not be something I personally look forward to, but I know it comes from love, and that is what makes it special.

May 17

Your mom has now completed 37 weeks, and every day feels like a quiet countdown to your arrival.

It is hard to put into words everything that goes through my mind each day. There are moments when I feel overwhelming excitement at the thought of finally meeting you, holding you, and seeing your little face for the first time. I wonder what you will look like. Will you inherit my calmness, and your mother’s empathy? Then, just as quickly, another thought follows the sleepless nights ahead, the endless diaper changes, and all the beautiful chaos that comes with welcoming a new life.

Still, beneath all of that, one feeling stands above everything else: I am waiting for you with all my heart, my son. Above all, I pray that you come safely and healthily into this world.

May 22

Today is a very special day for me. a dream of 20 years finally came true. I saw Metallica live.

About twenty years ago, just before I left school and started college, I first discovered Metallica. The very first song I heard was The Unforgiven, and from that moment, I was hooked. My musical taste changed over the years, but my love for Metallica never faded. Still, I never truly thought I would one day get to attend one of their concerts. From Bangladesh, it always felt out of reach. Even after moving to Germany, there were times when Metallica came to play here, but I could never make it. Sometimes because I was a student and didn’t have the money, and other times because of other commitments.

But when they announced the M72 tour in Frankfurt last year, I decided this time would be different. I booked a two-day ticket almost a year in advance, and finally, today, the long-awaited moment arrived. Seeing the band live was nothing short of surreal.

And yet, this day carried a little extra emotion because of you, my little one. Before leaving the house, I worried for a moment. What if you decided today was the day you wanted to arrive? Then I would have had to cancel everything. So I gently tapped on your mother’s belly and had a little talk with you. My exact words were, “Son, please be patient for just one day. Let me enjoy this concert, and if you want, you can come tomorrow.” I think you listened.

Maybe one day in the future, when you are older, we can go to a concert together.

May 23

Today we took your Nani for a short sightseeing trip around Frankfurt city. Naj, Daroga Khala, NIS, and FAK joined us as well. As we wandered through the city, I noticed so many people wearing Metallica T-shirts. Tt felt like the entire city was caught up in the concert. The energy was everywhere, and it felt truly amazing.

May 24

Today was the second day of the concert, and once again, thank you for letting me be there. As I mentioned before, this will remain one of the most memorable events of my life, and I want to dedicate this moment to you, my boy.

With the best Metallica song. The one that says it all:

So close, no matter how far
Couldn't be much more from the heart
Forever trusting who we are
And nothing else matters

Yes, once I will see you, nothing else will matter.

May 26

Tomorrow is Eid ul Adha, and it feels like you might just decide to come tomorrow.

Your mother went to the hospital for her final checkup, and the doctors suggested admitting her today because her amniotic fluid was decreasing. Since she wasn’t quite ready, they rescheduled everything for tomorrow. When she called me from the hospital, I was filled with anxiety.

But then, what your mother did next; can you imagine?

She went straight to the Bangladeshi store and bought a huge amount of groceries, thinking she would need them while staying in the hospital. Honestly, some people’s lives revolve around food, and your mother is definitely one of them. But then again, considering the type of hospital food in Germany, you can’t really blame her.

When I got home from the office, I gave her a tight hug. I was very emotional at that moment and may have even shed a few tears.

She will be admitted to the hospital tomorrow at 8 a.m. Are you going to be an Eid child?

May 27

Nothing happened today. At least nothing in the way I had hoped.

In the morning, I took your mother to the hospital and got her admitted. After that, I went to the Eid prayer. This year, the Eid gathering was arranged at NIS and FAK’s place. It was a one-dish party, and we were supposed to bring chicken roast and vegetables. But because the situation changed so quickly, your mother couldn’t come, and since I was busy with her, I couldn’t help much either. Fortunately, your Nani was so generous and cooked the chicken roast herself.

At lunchtime, I went back home, took your Nani to NIS’s place, and we had our Eid lunch together with the others. We spent some time there, and they also sent Eid food over to your mother at the hospital. Afterward, your Nani and I visited your mother at the hospital. The doctors prescribed some medication to induce labor, and they will continue the process until you are ready to come. So it seems like you are not coming today.

We said goodbye to your mother and came back home, although my soul felt like it stayed behind in that hospital room.

May 28

My day started at 2 a.m. with a phone call from your mother. She was in pain and sounded nervous. I quickly got up, called an Uber, and rushed to the hospital. But it turned out to be a false alarm. By the time I arrived about 20 minutes later, the pain had already gone away, and I headed back home.

Since I had already taken leave from work because of your upcoming birth, I didn’t have to worry about work in the morning. In the afternoon, I went back to the hospital. Your mother had been given a new room with a single bed because she tested positive for MRSA, a bacteria that is usually spread within hospitals. It isn’t dangerous, but they isolated her so she wouldn’t infect others. In a way, this was good for us because now I am allowed to stay with her in the room.

She was in a devastating condition. The doctors had increased the dose of medication to induce stronger contractions, and I wished I could share her pain and make her situation a little easier.

As the pain grew stronger, she could no longer tolerate it. The doctors gave her painkillers through an IV, but they caused a reaction, and she ended up vomiting repeatedly. It was a lot. Everything she had eaten for dinner came back up. She couldn’t even make it to the bathroom in time and ended up vomitting on the floor.

I quickly took her to another department, Kreissaal, where the nurses tried to calm her down and gave her another IV. It seemed to be working. While she was there, I went back to the room and cleaned up as much of the vomit as I could. About an hour later, your mother began to regain some energy and felt a bit better. Then we returned to our room together.

May 29 - First Part

I was holding your mother’s hand as she went through labor. The room was far from silent. The doctors and attendants were speaking among themselves but in that moment, the two of us were quiet, whispering prayers.

Then, suddenly, everything changed.

The sound of a cry broke through the room. The sweetest sound we had been waiting for. At that instant, time seemed to stop. Still holding each other’s hands, both of us burst into tears. They were tears of overwhelming happiness.

I could not see everything at first, as your mother’s lower body was hidden behind a curtain. A few seconds later, a nurse quickly carried something to the other room. When I leaned forward, another nurse gently assured me that it was only a routine check with the pediatrician. After almost two minutes, she returned. This time carrying a tiny human wrapped in a towel. She placed that little being beside your mother.

Is that you, my son? The most beautiful thing on earth.

Once again, I could not hold back my tears. Then she placed you in my hands.

My son. My own flesh and blood.

I gently lifted you a little closer to my mouth and recited the adhan in your right ear, then the iqama in your left. May the call to prayer be the very first sound you hear in this world. After that, I recited Surah Al-Fatiha and Surah Al-Ikhlas.

You looked at me with your tiny eyes, and I could not stop looking back at you. The only thought that came to my mind was this: I am you, and you are me.

SMR, you were born at 14:52 on Friday, 29 May 2026; ১৫ জ্যৈষ্ঠ ১৪৩৩ বঙ্গাব্দ and 12 Dhul Hijjah 1447 AH.

May 29 - Second Part

Today was full of emotions, and it took me a while to process everything.

Early in the morning, I left for home to bring food for your mom. Around 10 a.m., she called and told me that after speaking with her doctor, a C-section had been suggested because her amniotic fluid was decreasing, but there was still no sign of the cervix opening. Your mother placed her trust in the doctor, and they gave her a slot after 12 p.m.

I packed everything quickly and, before heading to the hospital, stood on my prayer mat and asked Allah from the bottom of my heart to make everything easier for us. When I reached the hospital, your mother was already in the delivery room. I sat beside her, waiting. It was already past 12, but no one called us.

After a while, someone came and informed us that there had been an emergency surgery, which was causing the delay. We finally got our call around 2:30 p.m. They slowly took your mother on the bed, and I went with her. I changed my clothes before entering the labor room. It was full of doctors and nurses, all of them focused and calm as they explained everything and began the procedure. It took about 30 minutes, and then we were sent back to our room with you.

After that came hundreds of phone calls, mostly from Bangladesh, but also from our friends in Frankfurt. Everyone was eagerly waiting for your arrival. Your Dida and Khala called almost every hour to hear the latest update.

While managing all the calls, I also stepped out for a while to buy some sweets. In Bangladesh, sharing sweets is a cherished tradition to celebrate the birth of a newborn. I especially bought one pack for the hospital staff, the doctors and nurses. They did an amazing job, and we will always be grateful to them.

Your Chacha was already in Frankfurt, and that evening he came with your Nani to visit us at the hospital. We spent a long time talking about who you look like. Most of us think you have taken after your Dada bhai, especially with the hair. But there is no doubt that you got my nose, the blunt one, haha.

When your Chacha and Nani left in the evening, it was just the two of us again. Two brand-new parents, with hardly any idea of what we were doing and very little understanding of how to care for a newborn.

We went to bed around 11 p.m. My bed was just a small space on the floor beside your mother’s bed. I had brought a yoga mat and slept on that. But we could hardly sleep. And perhaps that was already the beginning of our reality for the next two or three years. We lay down, but we remained wide awake. With every sound, every cry, we jumped up to check whether you were hungry or if your diaper was wet.

Your mother broke down a little because she struggled with changing the diaper. I had to calm her down. There is always a first time.

May 30

So this was our second day with you. Like yesterday, I went home in the morning, and your Chacha and Nani came to the hospital. I tried to catch a little sleep at home, and then in the afternoon I returned to the hospital after they had left.

I had a quick chat with the duty nurses about your health, and they assured me that everything was fine and that you were a healthy baby. The only concern was your mom, who could not produce enough breast milk. She was quite frustrated. In cases of C-section deliveries, this is actually quite normal, but as a mother, she could not think with logic at that moment. Since she could not feed you herself, she felt guilty and became deeply stressed about it.

We even had a small argument at night because she thought you might have wet your diaper. But I was half asleep and did not want to check, breaking my sleep. It was one of those first tiny struggles of new parenthood.

May 31

The nights have become intense and exhausting. I am still staying with your mom at the hospital, sleeping on the floor beside her bed. But sleep no longer means resting for long. It means waking up every two or three hours, changing nappies, trying to feed you, and helping you fall back asleep again. It is tiring, but at the same time, it is all part of the job, and part of the beautiful responsibility of being your parents.