Woman's Own

MY KIDS WERE LEFT AT AN ORPHANAGE

Seeing my son Shariq, 16, in his black prom suit, I couldn’t resist asking for one more photo. ‘Oh, Mum,’ he said, embarrassed, as I aimed my phone. Although he towers over me, he’s still my baby. My feelings go beyond just being a proud mum – they are a reminder of our journey to this moment, a journey that started in a poorly lit stairwell in Pakistan.

‘THERE WAS A STIGMA AROUND INFERTILITY’

In 1992, my husband, Amjad, and I had an arranged marriage. From the start, I always wanted children – perhaps more than most because my mum died when I was 25, leaving an emptiness that could only be filled by having my

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