Palestinian mother and baby from Gaza reunite 11 months after separated at birth : NPR

Raneem Hijazi holds her baby, Mariam, on her lap in her wheelchair, as Hijazi’s mother-in-law, Soha Sakallah (standing), helps her.

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Claire Harbage/NPR

DOHA, Qatar — Sitting in the lounge chair, Raneem Hijazi feels her anxiousness rise. She is ready to fulfill her 11-month-old daughter for the primary time for the reason that hospital in Gaza the place she gave birth.

Then the door to her condo in Doha opens, and her mother-in-law carries baby Mariam, along with her curly hair in pigtails, to her.

Hijazi, 23, is wheelchair-bound now — her legs nonetheless stuffed with pins and braces. She holds baby Mariam on her lap and the kid leans in opposition to her mother’s left shoulder, the place her arm has been amputated.

Hijazi kisses her face, says her identify, and “It’s me, your mom.” However it’s clear, Mariam doesn’t acknowledge her. The baby reaches for her grandmother.

This bittersweet second is one Hijazi thought may by no means occur. In spite of everything, it’s taken greater than 300 days. However it’s a second she has thought loads about, one which saved her going within the darkest occasions, by way of greater than a dozen surgical procedures and excruciating bodily and emotional ache.

In that second of reuniting, all of Hijazi’s doubts disappeared. She thought, “This is my daughter. How did I leave her behind?”

The night time of Mariam’s birth

Mariam’s birth was a miracle. Hijazi was eight months pregnant when the Hamas-led Oct. 7, 2023, assault on Israel occurred, and the Israeli airstrikes began in Gaza Metropolis, the place she lived along with her husband, his household, and their 11-month-old son, Azuz.

The bombings despatched Hijazi and her prolonged household to hunt shelter in central Gaza, the place the Israeli army mentioned it was a “safe zone.” It was there, at 3 a.m., that an airstrike hit their lodging.

Hijazi’s mother-in-law, Soha Sakallah, noticed Hijazi, her arms and legs trapped and mangled. “Her leg — I could see the bones, the flesh. It was dark. I didn’t know what to do,” Sakallah remembers, crying. Close by, she noticed a ugly scene: Hijazi’s son Azuz, Soha’s grandson, wasn’t transferring. “I was saying, Azuz, Azuz. I held him, and I saw that his head was gone.”

Mariam waits and performs along with her grandmother throughout her mother’s bodily remedy appointment.

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Baby Azuz was killed that day, together with seven different members of the family. Hijazi, who was badly injured and buried in rubble, advised her husband Asaad Sakallah, who survived, “Leave me. Leave me to die. My son is dead.”

However they did not go away her. Hijazi made it to Nasser Hospital in Khan Younis, within the southern Gaza Strip, the place 1000’s of individuals lined the hallways, in search of security from the continued airstrikes. There, the docs carried out an emergency cesarean part, lit solely by the flashlights on their cell phones. There was no electrical energy, no water, and no antibiotics to battle infections. And but she delivered a wholesome baby woman, a number of weeks early.

She named her Mariam, after her husband’s sister who was killed.

“The minute they got Mariam out and she was born and she drew her first breath, I drew a breath as well,” remembers Hijazi. “I came back to life.”

Airlifted to Qatar

However that life was nonetheless tenuous. After giving birth to Mariam, Hijazi’s wounds had been so extreme she was evacuated first to Egypt and then by the Qatari authorities to Doha, Qatar, the place about 2,000 critically wounded sufferers from Gaza dwell, present process medical care.

However she was greater than 1,000 miles away from her household.

Baby Mariam, together with Hijazi’s husband and his mother and father, had been finally in a position to make it to Egypt. They paid 1000’s of {dollars} to flee Gaza, however didn’t have visas to hitch Hijazi in Doha. So for 10 months, Hijazi, who was deep within the grief of shedding her son, needed to watch from her hospital mattress as her second baby grew up over video messages and calls.

Soha Sakallah performs along with her granddaughter, Mariam, at an condo advanced for refugees from Gaza in Doha, Qatar, in September quickly after they arrived to the nation from Egypt.

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“Every day she would do something new,” Hijazi remembers. “A little thing. A new action.” She smiled for the primary time. She began speaking. She acquired tooth.

“At first she was so tiny, she wouldn’t be able to properly focus on the phone when we would talk on video call,” she provides. “But then when she grew a bit older, I bought a toy for her, so she would focus on the phone screen and look at the camera. And then I felt I could talk to her.”

Being alone in Doha was the toughest half. Over these lonely months, Hijazi underwent greater than a dozen surgical procedures, and numerous hours of psychological and bodily remedy — that’s nonetheless ongoing.

“When I first got to Doha, I was in a dark place,” she remembers. “I used to consider issues loads, I acquired depressed. At first, I wasn’t sleeping at all. I advised the physician I used to be having nightmares of the night time we had been hit by the airstrike. I saved reliving that day — the day we had been hit — over and over once more, unable to neglect it.“

In that grief, the one factor that saved her going was the hope of at some point assembly, and holding, her second baby for the primary time.

(*11*)

Soha Sakallah tries to coax her granddaughter, Mariam, to sleep on the couch.

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“Talking to my daughter would make me feel so much better,” Hijazi says. “A 360 degree difference, I felt relief. She would completely turn my mood around.”

After which, on one of many final days of August, when Mariam was already crawling and speaking, her household was accredited to hitch her in Doha.

By September, Hijazi’s small two-bedroom condo is packed: There’s a bubbly baby plus Hijazi’s husband and his mother and father, Soha and Ezzat Sakallah who’ve helped increase Mariam.

A lot of the time, all of the adults are centered on baby Mariam, who’s now the focal point. “She’s the fruit of this house,” her grandfather Ezzat says, “the joy of this house.”

Hijazi says her daughter’s presence has lifted her spirits and helped her deal with rebuilding her bodily power.

An extended street to restoration

Lots of the companies Hijazi and different wounded sufferers from Gaza want are housed in the identical advanced in Doha the place they dwell: flats constructed as housing for soccer’s 2022 FIFA World Cup. In considered one of her afternoon bodily remedy periods, Hijazi’s therapist lifts her leg with a weight strapped to her ankle.

“We’re doing this to strengthen the muscles,” says Ruwaa Majed, her physiotherapist. “Hold it for 10 seconds, and release.” She counts to 10, as Hijazi protests. “I’m done Ruwaa, I already did 10!” she says, laughing. “You’re counting too slowly.”

These two ladies are across the similar age, and over the months they’ve been working collectively they’ve develop into shut pals. Some periods, they simply sit and discuss. By this level, Majed is aware of Hijazi usually wants slightly push to maintain going.

“Come on Raneem,” she encourages now, “Don’t you wanna be able to run after your daughter?”

However practically a 12 months after the assault, even the smallest actions nonetheless trigger excruciating ache. Hijazi wants a prosthetic arm and would require at least one other 12 months of in depth remedy to have the ability to stroll and take care of Mariam. She’s scheduled for an additional main surgical procedure within the coming weeks to attempt and reconstruct the kneecap on her left leg, which was crushed.

Raneem Hijazi was injured when the condo in Gaza the place she was sheltering was bombed. She’s engaged on constructing power in her legs, although she’s going to nonetheless want extra surgical procedures earlier than she will heal.

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“Sometimes I sit there and I think, I’ve only got one arm, both my legs are injured. My health isn’t very good. … How can I get up and do things? People who are in my situation don’t do things,” she says. “But then I hear stories about women who have lost both their arms and legs and are still doing things and I think, why not me?“

She recently watched a video online of a woman who does everything with her feet — eating and drinking, and she felt inspired.

“I don’t want to just sit there and do nothing, so I’m trying to learn to do things with my injuries. I’m trying to cook,” she says. “I think to myself: I still have one arm, at least. Let me use it.”

Again in her condo, Hijazi winces as she walks gingerly down the hallway to the kitchen, bracing herself in opposition to the wall. She begins to make espresso, utilizing her tooth to open a water bottle and untie a plastic bag of spices.

“I by no means need folks to do issues for me,” she says, “I want to do things for myself.”

Spending time in the kitchen brings her comfort. Before the war, she loved to bake. “Here is a chocolate cheesecake I made,” she says, citing a photograph on her cellphone. She scrolls again by way of time, pulling up extra truffles and goodies she’s crafted. “Made by Raneem!” she says, laughing.

Regardless of having a protracted street forward, moments like these remind her of the components of herself, and her previous life in Gaza, that she is working to regain.

Scrolling by way of cake pictures, she tries to not linger on the a whole bunch of pictures of Azuz. It’s unimaginable to recollect her life in Gaza with out feeling the ache of shedding her son, she says. Mariam is now about the identical age Azuz was when he was killed, and each she and her husband can’t assist however see him in her.

Raneem Hijazi (left) holds her baby, Mariam, whereas sitting subsequent to her husband, Asaad Sakallah, at an out of doors cafe in Doha, Qatar. Till this summer season, Hijazi was in Qatar by herself getting therapy. Now having the entire household round has livened up her life.

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“She looks just like her brother,” Asaad Sakallah, 25, says.

“If my daughter does something that reminds me of my son, I find myself immediately going to look back through photos of him, and remembering him, and I start to cry,” says Hijazi. “Her eyes are like his. Her laugh is like his. Even when I hold her, my heart hurts for her and for my son.”

Sakallah pulls up a video of Azuz, laughing. He then scrolls to a special video, taken simply days in the past, of Mariam laughing.

It sounds precisely the identical.

Mariam does not know her mother but, and Hijazi’s accidents make it tough to carry her, to feed her and to alter her. In her wheelchair, Hijazi cradles Mariam along with her one arm and Mariam struggles to get away.

“As you can see, she’s not used to me. Her grandma is like her mother,” she explains. “That feeling alone kills me.”

Hijazi has resorted to little tips to maintain Mariam shut. On the sofa one morning she tickles the little woman, feeding her small kernels of popcorn to maintain her from crawling away. “I’m tempting her with popcorn,” she says. “I hope that she gets attached to me and gets used to me. The feeling of motherhood is so special.”

With each chew Mariam giggles, and Hijazi smiles. “Bit by bit it’s getting better,” Hijazi says. “She’s getting to know me and feel more comfortable around me.”

Starting to consider the long run

For a lot of the time Hijazi has been in Doha, she hasn’t let herself take into consideration the long run.

“We are just living each day as it comes here, we don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow,” she says. “I think about how we will build a life for Mariam. Our life isn’t settled here. Where will we be in a year’s time?”

However having her household be part of her these previous few days has eased a few of her anxieties. She’s taken on the function of tour information, directing them to ice cream at the port and to the Souq Waqif, a market within the heart of the town.

One night time Sakallah pushes her wheelchair by way of the part of the market promoting loud colourful birds. Mariam is using on her lap, holding onto a giant pink balloon and squealing with pleasure.

Raneem Hijazi walks a number of steps with assist from her husband, Asaad Sakallah, to see the skyline of Doha from the port. They take some pictures within the metropolis and later get ice cream, constructing new reminiscences collectively on this new life.

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There are not any airstrikes right here; no broken buildings. They’re secure. However the market reminds Hijazi of markets again in Gaza, and she lingers on the very fact this isn’t their dwelling.

However Mariam’s unfiltered delight is contagious, and at this second Hijazi feels at ease, and hopeful.

“I tell myself we are only living this life once, and it’s fleeting,” Hijazi says. In these moments, it is onerous to not attempt and see the world by way of Mariam’s eyes. “I would be happy giving Mariam even half the life we used to have in Gaza.”

This story was supported by the Pulitzer Heart on Disaster Reporting.

This story was reported by Elissa Nadworny; produced by Fatima Al-Kassab; pictures by Claire Harbage; blended for radio by Lauren Migaki; edited for radio by James Hider and Steve Drummond; edited for digital by Alex Leff.