SCOTT DETROW, HOST:
We're going to follow up here on a story that we brought you a year ago. It's been a year since Hamas-led militants stormed out of Gaza and attacked communities in southern Israel, killing around 1,200 people and taking 250 hostages. That ambush triggered a war in Gaza that has now killed more than 41,000 Palestinians.
When the war started, Raneem Hijazi was eight months pregnant. Nearly a year ago, we reported her story after an Israeli airstrike hit the apartment she and her extended family were staying in. A warning to listeners - this story does have graphic content.
Here's Hijazi's mother-in-law, Suha, describing seeing her pregnant body trapped under debris.
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SUHA: (Through interpreter) Her leg - I could see the bones, the flesh. It was dark. I didn't know what to do.
ELISSA NADWORNY, BYLINE: Nearby, she saw a gruesome scene - Hijazi's one-year-old, Suha's grandson, wasn't moving.
SUHA: (Through interpreter, crying) I was saying Azuz, Azuz - his name. I held him, and I saw that his head was gone.
DETROW: Azuz was killed that day, along with seven other family members. But Hijazi, badly injured, was pulled from the rubble and brought to a nearby hospital. There, via C-section, she delivered a healthy baby girl. She named her Mariam, after her husband's sister, who was killed.
A year later, NPR's Elissa Nadworny traveled to Doha, Qatar, to bring us the story of what happened to this mother and child in the painful months since that day.
MARIAM: (Vocalizing).
RANEEM HIJAZI: (Laughter).
NADWORNY: Raneem Hijazi pinches baby Mariam's nose, and the 11-month-old giggles with delight.
HIJAZI: Mariam.
NADWORNY: It's a moment that this mother thought might never happen. A week ago, she had never even held her baby...
MARIAM: (Vocalizing).
NADWORNY: ...Let alone made her laugh. Now, Hijazi peppers the little girl with kisses, basking in their recent reunion.
HIJAZI: (Through interpreter) I hope she gets attached to me like her brother was because the feeling of motherhood is really special. Sometimes I feel like, did I even give birth to her?
NADWORNY: The 23-year-old mother is wheelchair-bound now, her legs still full of pins and braces. Baby Mariam, with her curly hair and pigtails, leans against her mother's left shoulder, where her arm has been amputated...
MARIAM: (Vocalizing).
HIJAZI: (Vocalizing).
NADWORNY: ...A tender moment that's taken more than 300 days to happen.
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UNIDENTIFIED ANNOUNCER: Welcome to Doha, the state of Qatar, your gateway to the world.
NADWORNY: After giving birth to Mariam, Hijazi's wounds were so severe she was evacuated by the Qatari government to Doha, where hundreds of critically wounded patients from Gaza live, undergoing medical care. But she was apart from her family.
MARIAM: (Crying).
ASAAD HIJAZI: (Speaking Arabic).
NADWORNY: Baby Mariam, along with Hijazi's husband, Asaad, and his parents, were able to make it only as far as Egypt. They paid thousands of dollars to flee Gaza but didn't have visas to join Hijazi in Doha.
HIJAZI: She see Mariam - like, we just send video. Messenger.
NADWORNY: So for 10 months, Hijazi, who was deep in the grief of losing her son, had to watch her second baby grow up over video messages from her hospital bed in Doha.
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HIJAZI: (Speaking Arabic).
HIJAZI: (Through interpreter) She was growing up, and I was watching it on video. Day after day, little changes - she'd do a little thing, a new action.
NADWORNY: Her first tooth...
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NADWORNY: ...Her first smile, her first step.
What was the hardest part when you came here to Doha?
HIJAZI: (Through interpreter) Being alone.
NADWORNY: Over those lonely months, Hijazi underwent more than a dozen surgeries and daily physical therapy that's still ongoing.
UNIDENTIFIED THERAPIST: (Speaking Arabic).
NADWORNY: Her therapist lifts Hijazi's leg with a weight strapped to her ankle.
UNIDENTIFIED THERAPIST: Like an isometric contraction of the muscle, and hold it for 10 seconds and then release.(Speaking Arabic).
NADWORNY: Nearly a year after the attack, even the smallest movements still cause excruciating pain. She's in need of a prosthetic arm and at least another year of extensive therapy to be able to walk and care for baby Mariam.
HIJAZI: (Speaking Arabic).
NADWORNY: "When I first got to Doha, I was in a dark place," Hijazi told me and producer Fatima Al-Kassab, who is translating.
HIJAZI: (Speaking Arabic).
FATIMA AL-KASSAB, BYLINE: In the beginning, she'd have nightmares most nights. But in those early months, she wasn't sleeping at all.
HIJAZI: (Speaking Arabic).
AL-KASSAB: She was just reliving that day of the strike.
NADWORNY: The day she lost her son, Azuz. In that grief, the only thing that kept her going - the hope of one day meeting and holding her second baby for the first time. And then, just days before our visit in September, when baby Mariam was already crawling and talking, finally, her family was approved to join her in Doha.
MARIAM: (Vocalizing).
EZZAT: (Vocalizing).
NADWORNY: The small apartment is now packed. Her husband, Asaad, and her in-laws, Suha and Ezzat, are all focused on baby Mariam.
AL-KASSAB: And she said, the minute she walked in, she thought - she was like, this is my daughter, and how did I ever leave her for one second?
NADWORNY: She is now the center of attention. Or, as her grandfather says...
EZZAT: (Speaking Arabic).
NADWORNY: "The fruit of the house."
But moments are still bittersweet. Mariam doesn't know her mom yet. In her wheelchair, Hijazi cradles Mariam with her one arm, and Mariam struggles to get away.
HIJAZI: (Through interpreter) As you can see, she's not used to me and that. She's used to her grandma, and that feeling alone kills me.
NADWORNY: And then there's the fact that Mariam is now the same age as a Azuz was when he was killed. Both she and her husband Asaad can't help but see him in her.
HIJAZI: Same brother and same, like, face.
HIJAZI: (Speaking Arabic).
NADWORNY: "Her eyes are like his," she says. "Her laugh is like his."
HIJAZI: This is Azuz.
NADWORNY: Asaad pulls up a video of Azuz.
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AZUZ: Da-da, da-da.
HIJAZI: This is Mariam.
MARIAM: Da-da, da-da.
HIJAZI: Same, same.
NADWORNY: For Hijazi, it's an emotional pain on top of her daily physical pain. She winces as she walks gingerly down a hallway to the kitchen, bracing herself against the wall, and begins to make coffee.
With your teeth?
HIJAZI: Oh, yes.
NADWORNY: Using her teeth to open a plastic bag of spices.
Cardamom?
HIJAZI: Yes. I help myself.
NADWORNY: The simple act of making coffee, of spending time in the kitchen, brings Hijazi comfort. Before the war, she loved to bake.
Oh, my gosh, it looks so good. Chocolate?
HIJAZI: Kinder cake.
NADWORNY: She shows us photos of the treats she made back in Gaza.
HIJAZI: Cheesecake, chocolate.
NADWORNY: Oh, my gosh, with strawberries on top.
HIJAZI: Yes. Made in Raneem.
NADWORNY: Made by Raneem (laughter).
Raneem Hijazi has a long road ahead. She's adjusting to being a mother again, building physical strength and regaining parts of herself she lost - parts of her old life.
MARIAM: (Vocalizing).
NADWORNY: One evening, as the excessive 111-degree Doha heat burns off, the family visits the Souq Waqif, a market in the center of the city. Hijazi's husband Asaad pushes her wheelchair through the section selling loud, colorful birds...
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NADWORNY: ...Which reminds them of their markets back home.
(SOUNDBITE OF CHILD SQUEALING)
NADWORNY: Mariam, riding on Hijazi's lap, holding a pink balloon, squeals with excitement.
MARIAM: (Vocalizing).
NADWORNY: Here, there are no airstrikes, no damaged buildings. They are safe. And yet there are echoes of Gaza and the life they so desperately miss.
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NADWORNY: Raneem Hijazi dreams of returning there someday, she says. I would be happy giving Mariam even half the life we used to have there.
Elissa Nadworny, NPR News, Doha, Qatar.
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DETROW: This story was supported by a grant from the Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting.
(SOUNDBITE OF NORTH AMERICANS' "CLASSIC WATER") Transcript provided by NPR, Copyright NPR.
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