November 8 2024
I saw a photo of a toddler named Ali in his hospital bed at the American University Hospital of Beirut. His small, fragile body was wrapped in gauze, only his eyes, nose, and mouth peeking through. His right hand - gone. They say he lost his entire family, that he’s left to face this world alone, wrapped up in pain and bandages. Something inside me broke.
Then I saw the blanket. White, with tiny brown teddy bears scattered across it - the same one my son was wrapped in when I first held him, in that very same hospital. I remember it so clearly: the surprising stiffness of the fabric, the way it swaddled him, made him look even tinier. The way he fit so perfectly in my arms, the weight of him, warm against my chest. I held him, wrapped in that blanket, in a world that felt safe, where I believed I could protect him from anything.
But seeing Ali, wrapped in that same familiar fabric, was like a punch to the gut. It felt as if I was staring at a version of my own child, a fragile thread connecting them - two boys who shared a blanket, the same hospital walls, but nothing else. Separated only by luck, by circumstance. I look at my son now and think of Ali, with no one to hold him, no one to promise him that life can be kind, that tomorrow will be better. No one to pull him close and whisper, “You’re safe. You’re loved.”
It’s terrifying how thin the line is, how close we all are to that darkness, to that same unforgiving cruelty. A blanket, a color, a place - they’re small things, everyday things. But somehow, they bind us, screaming at us a heartbreaking truth: for every child held safe in a mother’s arms, there’s another left alone, unshielded in a world that has turned so brutally against them.
I hold my son close, kiss his forehead, tuck him in a little tighter each night. A mother’s love feels like armor, like the strongest thing I have to give him, and yet - some nights, when I look at that photo and countless others, it doesn’t feel like enough.
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Since writing this, Ali’s surgeries have been successful. Please consider donating to The Ghassan Abu Sittah Children’s Fund to help more children like him.