A Mother’s Desperate Moment at Angkor Wat
I still feel the damp earth beneath my feet when I think back to that afternoon in the ancient forest near Angkor Wat. It was a place of serene beauty—towering stone ruins draped in vines, sunlight shimmering through dense canopy—but none of that mattered once the heartbreaking cry erupted between the trees.
I was guiding Brinn, an American wildlife volunteer and new mom, along a narrow trail when disaster struck. Out of nowhere, a wild macaque lunged and bit her baby’s soft cheek. The baby—Braxton—let out a piercing scream I’ll never forget. In stunned silence we rushed Braxton into Brinn’s arms.
At first, she instinctively offered her breast. But Braxton recoiled. The sharp bite and sudden shock had taken something deep within: trust, comfort, appetite. He refused, pushing away even her gentle touch. Brinn’s eyes filled with tears—not only from pain but from what she felt in her heart, a mother’s helplessness.
In that ancient grove, I watched as nurse volunteers circled around. Brinn cradled Braxton close, rocking him gently. I saw her lower lip quiver. Her voice, trembling, whispered, “My sweet boy… it’s okay.” Each word was drenched in love and sorrow.
Braxton’s cries echoed beneath the trees. He clutched at Brinn’s chest and then froze, refusing her warm milk. A wild mix of shock and pain clouded his gaze.
A Silent Forest Responds
The forest held its breath. The only sound was Braxton’s sobbing and the rustle of the leaves above. Brinn brushed away tears and spoke softly: “Braxton, mommy’s here. It’s okay to be scared.” But he wasn’t just scared—he was wounded.
Medical help was nearby: local wildlife rescuers and a nurse from the Angkor field station. But until they arrived, Brinn had to face the worst: a baby rejecting the most natural source of comfort, just after being bitten.
She held him close, her heart fractured, and whispered lullabies. And yet, Braxton would not feed. He stared wide‑eyed, overwhelmed. I sensed Brinn’s heart snapping in two: she wanted to soothe him, but he couldn’t take in her milk.
Trust Lost—and Slowly Regained
About ten tense minutes later, the nurse arrived with a soft bottle of formula. With gloved hands and gentle reassurances, she spoon‑fed Braxton drops of milk. Braxton’s cries lessened as he tasted the substitute. Brinn exhaled a shaky breath. I saw tears of relief mix with sorrow in her eyes.
Moments later, as the formula eased Braxton’s hunger, Brinn wrapped them both in a soft cotton wrap. She murmured, “We’ll heal, baby… together.” I truly felt the essence of motherhood in those words—resilience blossoming under raw pain.
Reflections Beneath Ancient Stones
After the ordeal, we guided Brinn and Braxton to a shaded ruin near Angkor Wat. The ancient stones stood silent witness to their suffering and love. Brinn gently dabbed antiseptic on the bite, bending close to soothe her son. Braxton, still settling, clung to her.
I leaned in and said, “You were so strong.” She nodded, exhausted but unwavering. In that forest, amid centuries‑old trees and stones, a bond was tested—and held fast.