Child Brides of India

By C. Stanton Leman

Chapter 100

Even after the family had adjusted to the fact that three of my wives were pregnant, it seemed that the euphoria of knowing our family would soon gain three more little princesses seemed to linger on for weeks after Monaavi’s and Miko’s ultrasounds. It became a communal thing to slather the girls with cocoa butter, massage feet and give backrubs.

The only other change was that Tina was now going to public middle school. At first she balked, but once she’d been there a few weeks, she acquired a few girlfriends and things settled out from there. Now she’s on the phone so much discussing “girl things”, I had to put in a separate line and number in her room for her. It was either that or pay a ton of cash each month for the cell phone and texting (which I paid for anyway). If this is an indication of what’s to come, hell, with seven girls, the house number and the business numbers might just qualify me for a separate area code.

The week following Miko’s ultrasound, there was a severe shortage of nurses in the pediatric ward due to an influenza break-out. Miko volunteered to work there for a while because she was able to work day shift without rotating shifts. It would only be temporary, for a month or two, but she said she would enjoy it while it lasted.

Miko wasn’t there three days when she asked me to stop by and visit the children. Several of the kids didn’t get regular visits from their parents. Some were there as patients from social services without a relative or were in foster care.

When it comes to children, I’m a real pussy. I just can’t stand to see a child suffer or in pain. I have no problem jumping in and helping in a car accident or anything that’s bloody, but when a child is involved, it just rips my guts out. Knowing this, when Miko asked me, I told her how I felt about kids, pain and suffering. I told her I’d think about it, but vacillated about it for two days.

Finally she confronted me at the breakfast table that weekend and asked me whether I was interested in helping kids or not. What could I say? The way she put it, either I wanted to make a difference or I wasn’t man enough to deal with the same pain and suffering these children had to cope with. So, I said to her, “Okay Miko, I’ll do it. I presume you want me to come tomorrow since it’s Monday, right?”

“Oh Sean, You don’t know what this will mean to those boys and girls. They just need to know that someone thinks enough of them to share some time with them and play a game or read a book. Maybe you could buy each of them a toy that they really, really want.”

“Why is it so important for me to do this, Miko?”

“I know how much you love kids and you really are good with them. Also, you’re the only rich person I know that has the resources to help some of these kids. It’s like you said at dinner that night. I’m putting you in a position to do a lot of good for some kids that need a break in life. They need someone to look up to that can help them.”

“Alright, but if I get the heebie-jeebies about a kid, I hope you understand that I can’t bear to see a child in agony.”

“Well, if it moves you to do something, then, as they say, ‘It’s all good.’”

“You know you’re wrong about me being the only rich person you know.”

“Oh yeah? Who else is there?”

“You and each your sisters are worth at least ten million and Mom and Dad aren’t too poor either.”

She giggled and looked around the table saying, “Yes, Darling, but only you can make the kids happy while being good eye candy and a pick-me-up for the nurses too. By the way, if you want me to use some of my trust fund, I will do so gladly, just take what you need.”

I had to laugh at that and replied, “Okay, Nurse Michaels, what time should the rich, eye candy arrive to have the most effect on both the staff and the patients?”

“Around one,” she chuckled. “Lunch will be finished, rounds will have been completed and the kids are kind of restless.”

After a giggle she added, “And the nurses can concentrate on the eye candy.”

The girls thought that was so funny a few of them snorted a time or two along with the laughter.

“All right, all right. I guess I should clear my calendar everyday for a while, right?

“That’s up to you, Sean. You can come every day for a while or every other day.”

“We’ll see how it goes the first day and just play it by ear, okay?”

“Thank you, Sean. This means a lot to me and I know the kids will appreciate it.”

_________________________________

The next day, I told my secretary that I was going to be doing some community service at a local hospital for a while and to schedule me for half days for the next month. The first day with the kids was actually pretty nice. In the middle of the ward is a playroom with toys, tables and chairs and some games and crafts. After making the cursory rounds and being introduced to all the kids, I took turns with groups of four children and we played games such as Chutes and Ladders, Sorry and the kid’s version of Scrabble.

I took an afternoon coffee break with the nurses, fulfilling the eye candy roll. I enlisted them to find out from each child what toy they desperately wanted. Some children had very simple needs and wants. Some wanted to be read to, some just wanted to talk to someone about their hopes and dreams and sadly, some just wanted to be held and cuddled.

Every night after that, I would give thanks to God that I grew up feeling loved by my parents. I never knew that there were that many kids in the city that I grew up in that were in need. GBMC is one of probably a dozen hospitals in the Baltimore metropolitan area. It saddened me to think that this was going on a dozen-fold here, and God only knows how many children were in need throughout the richest country in the world.

The one thing I was dreading — namely, being confronted with a child that was truly in agony, happened during my second day of spending my afternoons at the hospital. They had flown a little girl and her mother here from Iraq. The child was severely injured while playing near a hidden IED that had gone off. It killed four children and injured eight more, including the little girl.

Hibbah, I learned was her name, had to have her left foot amputated below the knee, and had shrapnel wounds on her left side and chest. She also had a fractured cheek bone from a piece of shrapnel and had a broken left arm that needed surgery and pins put in the growth plate of her elbow.

Her mother, Aziza, was a very humble and shy woman whose only concern was for her daughter’s survival. An international aid foundation had sponsored her coming here, but they were looking for a benefactor and had put Aziza up at the Holiday Inn in Timonium, about ten minutes away from the hospital. Miko said that the father was dead, but didn’t give any details.

I was not prepared, even though Miko had given me the details of Hibbah’s injuries, to deal with the sight of a child with such extensive injuries. When I entered the room, Hibbah was asleep. She lay on her back and her missing limb was morbidly noticeable from the outline of the covers. Her head was turned to the right and she had bandages on the left side of her face and her head was wrapped in a bandage also. Her left forearm lay on her stomach wrapped in a temporary cast. She had a feeding tube run through her nose, oxygen tube, IV’s, EKG leads… the sight immediately brought tears to my eyes.

Her mother stood and we spoke through a translator and exchanges salaams. She was very happy to meet a fellow Muslim and asked me to pray with her. Aziza would rock and cry out her supplications as she begged for her child’s welfare. I clenched my jaw as I remembered doing the same thing in Emmy’s hospital room nearly seven years earlier.

After we had prayed for about ten minutes, Aziza began to tell me her story and what had happened. Hibbah and some other children from the neighborhood were playing in a vacant lot near the roadside when one of the kids had accidentally set off a buried IED.

Hibbah was a very petite girl of eight years old and from looking at her lying in bed, was not quite four feet tall and very slender, judging from her thin arms. Judging from what I could see of her uncovered face, she was an average girl: not really cute or pretty, just a plain average little girl. She may have weighed about forty pounds or so. She had an olive complexion with curly black hair that was a little longer than shoulder length.

I told Aziza that she didn’t have to worry about her daughter’s treatment or expenses. I would gladly sponsor her and her daughter and pay for all of Hibbah’s medical treatment, and any prosthetics and therapy she will need to become a functional young girl again.

When I left Hibbah’s room, I barely made it to the nurses’ lounge when I broke down. Miko wanted to have a doctor prescribe a 5 mg. Valium to calm me down, but I declined the offer. Miko told me that even though it was very difficult for me, she was glad I was here when they brought her in from surgery. She said that she believed that God had touched her heart to get me to come to the hospital so that I would be there when Hibbah was brought in. She felt strongly that God had brought child and sponsor together for a purpose.

She said that night at dinner, “Mom, Dad, everyone… Sean and I have seen firsthand the ravages of this insane war. We have an eight year-old girl from Iraq that just arrived on the ward who was nearly killed by an IED. She has lost her left foot and has a broken left arm and injuries to the left side of her body and head.

“Sean has agreed to become her and her mother’s sponsor and pay for all her medical bills and expenses. The organization that brought her here was looking for a benefactor. I believe that God has brought us all together for some purpose.”

“Well,” I put in, “I don’t know if I can do anything other than pay for the poor girl’s bills. Just the sight of her lying there, seeing all those bandages and tubes going into her… and the sight of the bed where her little foot should have been just broke my heart. I know she’ll see my uneasiness when she looks into my eyes. I don’t want to hurt her even more and make her think that I think she’s repulsive looking or something.”

“I’ll explain to her and her mother,” Miko said, “that you are very sad and upset that she is hurt so seriously and in such pain. I feel it’s necessary, Sean, for you to get to know her and help her regain her confidence and help encourage her to live.”

“Why is it necessary for me to be the one, Miko?”

“Oh grow up, Sean!” Priya interjected. “You didn’t question me when I felt strongly and led this family for the first year we were married. Miko has a strong feeling about this. Her heart only wants good for that little girl, so I’d say she’s feeling that God is pressing her heart in a certain direction, right Miko?”

“Yes, Priya. I don’t presume to think that God is actually speaking to me, but I feel very deeply that somehow God has moved me and brought us altogether for some reason or purpose.”

“I’m sorry if I seem so childish about this,” I answered, “but seeing that little girl’s injuries, knowing the pain she’s in and the suffering she’ll have for the rest of her life because of her injuries just breaks my heart.”

“Sean,” Mom said calmly but sternly, “you’re twenty-seven years old. There’s nothing wrong with being sensitive to the pain of a child, but you need to grow up. Use the empathy and the pain you feel for her to help her — don’t use it as an excuse to walk away and throw money at her. The money is great and well needed, but she needs mental, emotional and physical encouragement to make it.”

Dad entered the fray and put his two cents worth in by saying, “Sean, now you and Miko have seen just one example of what war does to the innocent. The people that suffer the most in any conflict are the innocent bystanders, the everyday citizens who are just trying to stay out of the way and remain alive while the fighting rages on around them. Unfortunately, the ones hurt the most are the children. They’re the ones least able to defend themselves or avoid the booby traps of war.

“Suck it up, Son, and help that little girl get on with her life. I’m sure that both she and her mother will be happy to have a Muslim man for support and leadership. Look at the women in your life. They’re Muslim, save Miko, and they look to a man for direction, support and protection. That’s their upbringing, the way they’ve been taught from childhood. I’m sure this little girl, what’s her name?”

“Hibbah, Hibbah Assad.”

Dad continued, “Yes, I bet that Hibbah is no different than Tina, Tiya, Cinny or Lizzy. It’s in her culture to look to a man. Be that man and take the bull by the horns. We have four extra bedrooms now that the renovation is complete. Once she’s ready to be discharged, bring them here. Teach her how to ride horseback, drive an ATV, fish, whatever, but you can make a difference.”

“Alright!” I said in resignation. “Jeez, I didn’t think my entire family would gang up on me over this! It’s not that I don’t want to get involved, it’s just looking at that poor child suffering is what tears me apart.”

“Then let that pain set your resolve just like Emmy’s death did. Use it to become strong for someone else and you’ll be a better man for it,” Mom instructed.

“Alright, Miko, you talk to her and her mother in the morning and I’ll be there around one. Explain to her that her injuries don’t make her repulsive to me; it’s the injuries and the pain and suffering she’s feeling that’s hard for me to handle. Don’t forget I still have the other kids to attend to also.”

“I know,” she replied, “but try and spend as much time as possible with her.”

“Yes Ma’am,” I replied with a smile and a salute.

Miko cautioned me by saying, “Since you are going to be giving this girl moral and emotional support, you’ll need to meet with her doctor to understand the stages of healing for amputees. This not only means her physical healing, but her mental and emotional healing and outlook will greatly affect her recovery. You not only need to know what’s happening to her and with her, but what comes next and help her meet the next challenge. Acceptance and continual encouragement are keys to her recovery.”

“And here I thought I was only going to be visiting and encouraging sick kids — not a victim of war.”

“God never gives you more than you can handle,” Mom replied.

“I just hope I’m up to the task,” I answered hopefully.

“You are if you set your mind to it,” Dad admonished.

The matter seemed to be settled and we finished dinner without any more discussion on the matter. That night at prayers, all of us concentrated on praying for Hibbah’s recovery and for God to guide me to offer what help and assistance I could.

_______________________________

The next morning, I actually felt sick to my stomach anticipating what my day would be like when I met with Hibbah and Aziza. I prayed for strength — both for myself and for Hibbah and her mother. I actually felt better after prayers. I felt a strange peace about it and surmised that maybe Miko was right: maybe it was ordained that we all be in one place at the same time for some higher purpose.

When I arrived at the hospital that afternoon, Miko grabbed me and pulled me into the nurses’ lounge for a conference with Hibbah’s doctor, Dr. Susan Clayborne. After the introductions and a little talk about why I was there, I told Dr. Clayborne that I would like to sponsor Hibbah and her mother and that I was willing to pay all of Hibbah’s and her mother’s expenses. I also volunteered to offer what support I could as a friend and counselor.

She started my education by saying, “Mr. Michaels, I am both happy and relieved that someone willing to undertake the Assad’s sponsorship was so fortuitously quick in coming. As for being a friend and counselor, I need to know for an unequivocal fact that you’re willing to be in this for the long haul.

“Becoming friends and developing a relationship with Hibbah will be catastrophic if you bail out on her along the way. If you’re willing to do this, then come hell or high water, you’d ’better not quit on me or I’ll take you apart myself. That little girl is my primary concern and I’ll not have her spirit broken because you can’t deal with the realities. What you will be asked to do is to help her deal realistically with the realities and go on to become a productive and adjusted little girl despite having lost a part of her body. Do we understand each other?”

“I understand, Doctor. I may falter or feel insecure at times, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes to see this through.”

“All right then, let’s get started. Hibbah has had what is called a lower extremity amputation. That’s because her foot was amputated below the knee. These types of amputations usually take longer to heal than one performed above the knee because the blood vessels in the thigh are larger. Larger blood vessels mean more blood to the affected area and thus, faster healing. She has a drain in the closed area, or stump, where the amputation is closed and we have to be very careful of infection or other serious problems.

“She will feel what is called phantom limb pain or phantom feeling. This is a condition where the mind still senses and feels the lost limb — even though it’s no longer there. It’s psychological in nature and can vary in its duration. Some patients have this feeling for years; some overcome it within months. You need to be aware of this and to be understanding of it. Don’t try and force her to accept the fact that her foot is gone: that will come in time. Just reassure her and try to accept what she’s feeling and empathize.

“There are six stages to her recovery: enduring, suffering, reckoning, reconciling, normalizing and thriving. The first stage, enduring, is simply enduring the surgery itself and dealing with the pain that follows. It is in this stage that the patient dwells on the present to get through the pain and blocks out distress about the future. It is self preservation and a conscious decision not to deal with the full meaning of the loss.

“Stage two, suffering, brings all the questions: why me? How will I go on? How will I survive? Intense feelings of loss, fear, denial, anger, depression and vulnerability might ensue. She may regress to the enduring stage, which at her age, is a distinct possibility. The emotional loss can and does intensify the physical pain of the loss.

“The reckoning stage is where she will become aware of the new reality. She’ll come to terms with the extent of her loss; accept what is left after her loss and its implications for her future. This is an ongoing process where she’ll put that loss in perspective in relation to other peoples’ loss. Namely, she’s better off than being paralyzed or a double amputee: something along those lines.

“Reconciling is where she puts things in perspective. She’ll become more assertive and take greater control of her life, accepts her uniqueness and hopefully accepts her new body image. She will want some form of intimacy at this point. By that I mean, she’ll want to know that she’s attractive, desirable and worth loving. This is especially true of a female. At her age, it may mean being held, cuddled and loved and shown she has everything to give as any other young girl, despite having lost a limb. She needs to know that she is loved for her inner self. Since she’s Muslim and some girls marry very young, she may seriously think about how this will affect her ability to attract a husband. Coming from an Islamic country where a girl in her condition is discriminated against and treated harshly, this will be very difficult for her to come to grips with.

“Normalizing is where she brings balance to her life. Establishing routines and priorities other than the loss; doing the things that matter and advocating for herself.

“Thriving is living life to the fullest. Becoming a role model for others and trusting in herself and others. This level is not attained by everyone.

“She may exhibit facets of one or more of these stages and in no particular order. She may show signs of reconciling in order for her mind to deal with the reckoning or suffering stages. Do you understand?”

“I think so, Doctor, but this is a lot to digest. Can you give me some information that spells out what you’ve just said so that I can fully understand it?”

“Yes. I’ll have it here for you by the time you leave today to take with you.”

“What do I do now? I mean, today: how do I act today?”

“Empathetic, understanding and accept her as she is. Treat her just like any of the other kids on the ward. Your time and understanding will work wonders and once she sees you accept her, she’ll open up to you and let you in.”

I gave a sigh and looked at her then looked at Miko. Miko put her hand on mine and said jokingly, “Sean, she’s a girl. Treat her like one and turn on the charm. The more you concentrate on her eyes and her smile, she’ll melt like butter. Make her lost foot a non-issue and things will be okay. Besides, it doesn’t matter if they’re eight or eighty; you’re good eye candy, right Dr. Clayborne?”

“Yeah,” she replied to Miko with a smile, “he certainly is easy on the eyes. Give her the baby blues and see if it works.”

Ending on a jovial note, we rose to go about our tasks. Susan gave me her card and told me to call her anytime I needed advice and I assured her I would. With that, she left. Miko hugged me and said, “Have I told you in the last ten minutes how much I love you?”

“No, my little lotus, you haven’t. You’re failing miserably in your wifely duties.”

“But I’ll tell you this, Sweetheart,” I added as I kissed her and rubbed her belly, “I love you more than all the grains of sand in the world, more than the seconds of my life.”

She smiled, kissed me back and turned curtly rubbing her belly with a grin and said, “And I love you more.”