The phone call. The dash to put together a bag. Boy or girl? Premature? or bigger? I throw a few articles of clothing, a diaper and a blanket in a bag. We hop in the car and head to the hospital. We had just got a call. The call. The call from the government hospital that says they have a new little one for us.
One who has been abandon. One whose mother just died in delivery. One, a little bit older, with a mentally unstable mother. One whose grandmother has given up.
It’s always hard. But sometimes, when I look into their little newborn eyes, I swear I can see hurt already. It’s like they know they’ve been left alone. Left to fight for themselves. Helpless and afraid. Barely able to cry. Brand new to the world, and yet tossed aside.
What little treasure deserves to be tossed aside?