It’s been two years, and the haunting image of that little one washed up on the shore still lingers in my mind. At first, I avoided the photo, not wanting to intrude on someone else’s heartbreak. I thought just hearing the story was enough to grasp the gravity of the situation.
But when I saw the correction of his name in a headline—not Aylan, but Alan Kurdi—I found myself compelled to confront my own sorrow and truly absorb the image. I looked because Alan had a mother who had tenderly named him, just as I had named my own little boy with love and intention. I looked because while I sat comfortably in my living room watching my children play, Alan’s mother was enduring the unimaginable, drowning in a desperate attempt to save her son.
I didn’t merely glance at the photo; I took the time to reflect on it, giving it the solemnity it warranted. It was evident that Alan had recently had a haircut. I pondered whether he had wriggled or sat patiently while his mother styled his hair. He was wearing shoes, and I imagined her helping him put them on, wondering if, like every other 3-year-old, he insisted on doing it himself.
As I stared at his still form, I couldn’t help but envision my child’s fair skin and blonde hair in place of Alan’s dark features. And I asked myself the question that echoed in the hearts of many mothers who saw that image: What if it were my child?
It’s a heavy thought to bear, but it’s one I revisit whenever I hear about families fleeing conflict zones. I think of it when I read about mothers sifting through rubble, hoping against hope to find their babies alive after a nighttime bombing. I think about it each time I see images of children with empty stares, conveying shock and trauma. I think about it with every new story of disaster or crisis around the globe.
What if it were my child?
For many of us in the U.S., the reality of living in a war-torn city is unfathomable. We can’t visualize our neighborhoods—filled with shops, schools, and parks—reduced to rubble. The constant fear of violence and uncertainty is something most of us have never experienced. We can’t imagine putting our kids onto a flimsy inflatable boat with the knowledge that it might capsize, simply because it’s our only option for safety.
What if it were my child?
How do those mothers manage to cope emotionally? I struggle when my own children feel sad or scared. They rely on me for strength and clarity during tough times. But what if I were just as terrified as they were? How do you summon the strength to comfort your children when the very foundation of security has crumbled?
What if it were my child?
I often think about the lengths I would go to protect my kids. What sacrifices would I make? What risks would I take? What measures would I endure to ensure they could live free from fear and danger? The answers remain elusive, and none of us truly knows until we are faced with such dire questions.
So instead of dwelling on the hopelessness, I focus on what I can do for these mothers. If I were in their shoes, what would I wish for?
I would want others to understand my fear. I would want compassion and support. I would want assistance to help me instill hope in my children.
I would want to reassure my kids, “Look! This is humanity. The violence and horror you’ve witnessed isn’t how it should be. The kindness of those who are reaching out and welcoming us—this is the essence of being human. This is what it means to love your neighbor.”
Mothers like us, living in places with stable infrastructures and community support, should be the first to extend a helping hand to those whose lives have been upended and destroyed by conflict.
When I imagine being in the shoes of mothers facing impossible choices, my heart shatters. With every image of a frightened child and every story of families seeking safety, the question resonates from one mother’s heart to another: What if it were my child? What if it were yours?
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Summary:
The piece delves into the emotional weight of imagining what it would be like if one’s child were in dire circumstances, such as those faced by mothers in war-torn countries. It emphasizes the importance of empathy, compassion, and support for those who are suffering and encourages readers to consider what they might do to help.