Become a lake.

Hiii!!

Yesterday Sarah and I spent our first afternoon at Shishu Bhavan, a home for physically/mentally handicapped infants and toddlers. At the conclusion of the day both Sarah and I found ourselves completely drained. Emotionally and physically overwhelmed by the vivid suffering and despair of the children at ShiShu Bhavan. I figured I would share some stories from the afternoon.

The children at ShiShu Bhavan are mostly under three years old and are there for all kinds of reasons. They are typically found on the street or born from women at other MC homes like Shanti Dan or Prem Dan. We were warned when we first arrived by a long term volunteer that the site is particularly challenging because the children are visibly in serious pain, without the care they need. Unlike my experience at Daya Dan where the boys are always smiling and the happiest group of kids I have ever met, many of the children at ShiShu Bhavan have conditions where they will not live much longer. It was truly heartbreaking to see them in the state they were.

When we first got there we were asked to play with some children on a large foam mat and immediately realized how sick the children were. Sarah is an EMT, so she was able to recognize symptoms easier than I was. One of the babies we were playing with had one lung and could only breathe when positioned on its left side. If it wasn't for Sarah I wouldn't of known how to hold him! We watched him choke, cry and struggle to support his body. Another child, with Cabral Palsy that had already taken over the muscles in both his legs and one arm, with immense scaring all over his body, we found placed on his head unable to get himself up. One child had an extremely enlarged head and fever, was unable to move, and was unresponsive on the mat. We later found out many of the children don't make it longer than a week.

One of the most challenging parts of the afternoon was attempting to feed the children. They need nourishment so we had to force food down their throats. One of the children I was feeding had a seizure in his chair and I was asked to continue spooning food into his mouth as he regained consciousness. In India, infants are handled differently than in the United States, which was difficult to see. They are handled more aggressively, dragged, and hit. When you change them you don't wipe them and diapers are nothing but layers of tied cloth (the bottom layers are often left wet). They are not treated as if they are delicate, as if they are suffering. This is not only cultural but also due to the vast amount of infants they must care for. There were only five volunteers for all the children that are in need of individual attention. After we fed them, which was a struggle, they were put on the large mat as the Massis went around and gave them their medicine. They cried, choked, and screamed and the Massis grabbed their cheeks and forced medicine down their throats. All the children were given what looks like the same medicine and after a few minutes many seemed to be more comfortable if not sleeping. This really broke my heart because the infants that didn't find any peace from the medicine continued to suffer and the children that did were only given temporary relief. Some need serious medical attention and sedation is nothing but a short term fix. We changed them, played with them, and sang to the for the rest of the afternoon.

I had a really hard time emotionally working with infants and toddlers, mostly because they are so fragile and young. Their lives have literally just begun, and if they are strong enough to survive their quality of life will still be heartbreaking. Like everything else on this trip it really puts into perspective how fortunate we all are!

I wanted to end with a passage from "The Book of Awakening" by Mark Nepo. We used this in reflection a few days back and I thought you all might enjoy it to!

How Does It Taste?

The more spacious and larger our fundamental nature, the more bearable the pains in living.

-Wayne Muller

An aging Hindu master grew tired of his apprentice
complaining, and so, one morning, sent him for some salt. When the apprentice
returned, the master instructed the unhappy young man to put a handful of salt
in a glass of water and then to drink it.

"How does it taste?" the master asked. "Bitter," spit the apprentice.

The master chuckled and then asked the young man to take the same handful of salt and put it in the lake. The two walked in silence to the nearby lake, and once the apprentice swirled his handful of salt in the water, the old man said, "Now drink from the lake."

As the water dripped down the young man's chin the master
asked, "How does it taste?" "Fresh," remarked the apprentice. "Do you taste the
salt?" asked the master. "No," said the young man.

At this, the master sat beside this serious young man who so
reminded him of himself and took his hands, offering, "The pain of life is pure
salt; no more, no less. The amount of pain in life remains the same, exactly the
same. But the amount of bitterness we taste depends on the container we put the
pain in. So when you are in pain, the only thing you can do it to enlarge your
sense of things... Stop being a glass. Become a lake."

Love to you all, Caroline!