Another Bump in the Night

I was awakened again last night to a soft tapping on our door. I sat up, but didn't see anyone in the doorway that we left cracked, so I lay back down. I thought I heard it again, but saw nothing, and tried to fall back asleep. Finally a quiet 'Auntie?' from little Monica got me to my feet. She is very young and still hasn't realized that we speak two different languages, so all I could make out from what she was saying was 'Uday.' I looked where she was pointing and noticed an extra body on the floor. At bedtime, I had made Thomas come down from the top bunk where he, Uday, and Kishore (the newest member of the chickenpox quarantine unit) planned on sleeping. Thomas and Uday had been fighting earlier and I didn't want them quarreling in the night and someone getting hurt. 'Uday is coming.' Monica said. '_________ is coming' can mean a lot of things in India. 'Blood is coming' (someone is hurt and bleeding) 'Red is coming' (You have a new pimple) 'Water is coming' (someone is crying) 'Take and come' (this can mean a lot of things, see also, 'go and come,' 'go and take,' or any arrangement of the words; the meaning depends on the situation.) Last night 'Uday is coming' meant 'Uday fell off the top bunk.'

(Above photo: Uday (far right) playing with Thomas (left) and Karun (center)

I brought him into our room and turned on the light. As soon as I saw all the blood and the size of his little swollen face, I felt sick. Nina and I took him upstairs to get Bendang. After knocking and ringing the bell several times, we finally awoke Lillian (John Kohlen), one of the older boys, who let us in. We knocked several times on Bendang's family's door but no one answered. As I stood there with Uday I realized that if Bendang did get up, what was he going to do? There was no vehicle here to take anyone to the hospital, and even if there was, who would drive it? Flustered, questions started running through my mind. Why aren't there enough beds for everyone? Why don't the top bunks have railings? Why is there no way to get to the hospital if there is an emergency in the middle of the night? Why did I let any of them sleep on the top bunk? They are seven years old, I should have known better. We took Uday downstairs and cleaned him up. His top teeth had gone all the way through his bottom lip and one was loose but not completely knocked out (though later he would come back from the doctor without it, which wouldn't have been a big deal if it hadn't been an adult tooth.) His eye was swollen almost shut and his cheek and chin were puffy. We gave him half a tablet, cleaned and dressed his wounds, applied an ice pack to his face, made a space for him on the mat on the floor next to Thomas and Monica, and went back to bed ourselves.

As I lay awake in bed, I couldn't help but feel like there was more I could do. Even now, here, I am still privileged. There I was, laying on a bedroll protected by a mosquito net while Uday lay broken on the floor in the next room. I had gotten to talk to my family that day, when was the last time he saw his? I tried to think of what would happen in this situation at home. What would my mother or sister do if this was one of their children? Probably there would have been a trip to the clinic, but if not, the child wouldn't be sent back to bed to sleep on the hard floor without the comfort of a mother. I went out and sat on the floor rubbing his back in attempts to comfort him and help him fall back to sleep. I was feeling guilty for allowing this to happen, sad because he was hurting, angry at his parents for the lack of love that was causing him to lie rigid under my touch and not relax in my care.

This morning, I was still overwhelmed with a sense of guilt. I couldn't help but feel that it was my fault. I tearfully called my Dad and caught him just before he was heading to bed back at home. He was able to sooth my worry, saying that I didn't know something like that would happen, that I couldn't blame myself, and everyone makes poor decisions. He reminded me of the infamous lapse in judgement he had when I was 5 that landed me in the emergency room. I was able to laugh and forgive myself a little bit. My poor Dad, it's been 20 years since that day and still we haven't let him live it down.

Poor Uday, injured just as he was recovering from the chickenpox. Here he is enjoying a healing turmeric bath.

With every day that passes, I feel more and more like a mother. Like my Dad said, you don't have to give birth to be a parent, and I am really beginning to understand that lately. I feel the pressures to make the right decisions with these kids, the responsibility for their health and well-being, and the unconditional love that a parent has for their child. That no matter what they do, no matter how much they frustrate you or are naughty, disobedient, and fight, it doesn't matter, you love them and show them compassion no matter what. They may not be my children -- they may not be anyone's -- but the are God's children and it is my responsibility to love them and care for them the way any mother would. I am still figuring it out, and clearly I make mistakes, but I am learning and getting better with each step I take.