25/08/2025
My Unforgettable Tragic Days of Life
On 23rd August 2025, at 4:00 pm, my beloved wife—seven months pregnant with our twin boys—began bleeding unexpectedly. In fear and desperation, we rushed her to the nearby JK Hospital, but within moments they referred us to Friendship Hospital. After three long hours of waiting and discussion, instead of treatment, they too referred her to Cox’s Bazar Sadar Hospital.
When we reached Sadar Hospital, our suffering only deepened. There was no proper treatment, no available doctor, no space for patients. Two patients were forced to share a single bed. When I asked a nurse about the doctor, her reply broke me further: “The main doctor will come tomorrow at 10 am.” At that very moment, while my wife was losing blood endlessly, hope began to slip from my hands.
In desperation, I took her to four major hospitals in Cox’s Bazar. Each one of them turned us away, saying it was too late to treat her. From 8:00 pm until 1:00 am, I begged and pleaded with every hospital, but no one accepted her. With trembling words, I say that every hospital we entered was drowned in rivers of my beloved wife’s blood. I cannot describe the pain of watching my wife suffer as every door closed on us. With the last strength of my soul and tears flooding my eyes, I decided to take her to Chittagong by ambulance at 1:20 am.
As we prepared to leave Cox’s Bazar, countless people looked at my fragile wife and whispered with sorrow that neither she nor our unborn sons would survive the journey to Chittagong, for her body had grown unbearably weak. Yet, with a heart torn between fear and hope, I refused to surrender to their words—I held on to faith, and carried her toward Chittagong, praying for a miracle.
With the miracle, at 4:00 am, we reached CSCR Hospital in Chittagong, but the doctors there too repeated the same words as the others. With no other choice, we rushed her to Parkview Hospital. Finally, they accepted her, and for the first time that night, I felt a small drop of relief. Nurses and assistants tried everything to stop the bleeding, but it was in vain until the main doctor arrived at 10:00 am on 24th August.
The doctor told us that two bags of A+ blood were urgently needed. With the help of kind-hearted Bengali brothers and my students, we managed to arrange the blood. But then came the most devastating news: “Your twin sons are no longer alive.” At 1:00 pm, the doctor told us that if we wanted to save my wife, we had to urgently provide three more bags of A+ blood within minutes. I was speechless, my heart shattered, tears pouring uncontrollably. But I knew I had to fight to save my wife.
With the help of a compassionate brother who shared the plea for blood on Facebook and WhatsApp, we managed to collect the blood within 30 minutes. The operation began at 3:00 pm. At 4:00 pm, the most painful sight of my life was placed before me—my two sons, lifeless, in my hands.
Oh Allah, how my heart bled! Both my sons, each weighing 3 kilograms, were strong enough to survive—but negligence, delay, and unskilled hands had stolen them away. I kissed them, I touched them, I held them, and I wept as though my soul itself had been torn apart. They were so beautiful, so innocent, so perfect. In my heart, I felt as if they were still kissing me on both cheeks together.
I buried them with my own hands in Chittagong. The weight of the soil on their tiny bodies was heavier than mountains upon my chest. Since that moment, I cannot stop crying, I cannot sleep, I cannot breathe without remembering them.
My wife, still in critical condition, is alive by the mercy of Allah. For that, I am grateful beyond words. But we have not yet told her the truth—that our children are gone. She still believes they are alive. Doctors have forbidden us to reveal the reality until she is strong enough to bear it.
Oh Allah, grant me the strength to carry this unbearable pain. Give my wife courage when she learns the truth. Protect her, heal her, and do not let any parent in this world suffer the way I have suffered.
This is the deepest wound of my life. I will never forget the faces of my two little angels, my sons. They live forever in my heart.
