Ayaan

Born 14 March 2026Lahore

A quilt was already waiting for you when you came.

with love, Sana and Hamid

Pink and olive fabric patches, a thimble and spools of black thread on a table, a baby's quilt half stitched

A letter to you

Ayaan, you will not remember any of this, so we are writing it down. How Dadi sewed your quilt before you had a name. How Nani's lori still works when nothing else does. How your father learned to swaddle from a video and a great deal of laughing. This page is a quilt too: a patch for every small thing, to open whenever you want to know how loved you were from the very first day.

The family quilt

Patch by patch, your first year

Every patch is a moment we stitched in, so that we would never lose it.

While we waited
7 weeks
A flicker on the screen
The doctor turned the screen towards us and there you were: a small bright flicker. Hamid, who never cries, asked to see it again. We drove home through Gulberg without turning the radio on.
We called you the bean.
Month 4
Dadi starts the quilt
Dadi opened her tin of thread and every dupatta she had ever outgrown. Patch by patch, on the charpai in the courtyard, she began your first ralli, and would not let anyone near the corners.
No machine. Only her hands.
Month 7
The kicks begin
You turned out to be a night owl. Every evening, just as the azaan faded, you began to drum, and Hamid would rest his hand there and hum the lori his own mother sang to him.
Hello, little drummer.
The day you came
Day 1
Your first morning
Eleven minutes past four, Lahore just waking outside the window. They laid you on my chest and you smelled like warm bread. Your hair already curled into a whorl at the crown, exactly like your Nana's.
Welcome home, jaan.
Day 3
The first night in the jhoola
Nani's old cradle came down from the store room and she hung it from the beam with a sari. You slept in it as if you had always known it, swaying a little with every footstep in the house.
It still creaks. We love it.
Day 7
Your name, your aqiqah
Abu whispered the azaan in your ear, Dada chose the name Ayaan, and two goats fed half of Model Town. Phupho brought the silver rattle that was hers when she was small.
Ayaan means a gift. It is.
Watching you grow
Month 6
A tiny white edge
Drool, grumpy nights, and then one morning at breakfast, a small white edge under the gum. Dadi declared it a sign that you would be a talker.
We heard it click on the spoon.
Month 7
Your first Eid
You wore a kurta two sizes too big and slept through the whole khutba. Afterwards every aunty in the family passed you from hand to hand, and left Eidi under your pillow.
You were richer than your father by lunch.
Month 12
One whole year
A cake covered in fish, because you once watched an aquarium for an entire afternoon. You ate the icing, ignored the rest, and the whole family sang off-key.
Happy birthday, Ayaan.