It’s December 30th, 830pm and I cannot believe there is a woman at my door wanting me to take her baby. Happy New Year.   

 

Full cleft pallet, club feet, spina bifeta, congenital issues to say the least. 6 months old, just 2.5 kilos, the size of a newborn. What a pathetic little creature.

 

With tears in her eyes, she waited for my answer, almost holding her breath. She doesn’t even know me. I sighed. After spending half the day yesterday in the hospital with the father of one of our boys who drank himself into a coma and then discharging two of our little ones, and the general worries that running this place brings, I was not convinced I wanted this baby. This would be intense care, he was so deformed, so underweight, so weak. And I was kinda tired.

 

Amidst all the chaos in my mind, his little eyes looked up at me and I reluctantly took him into my arms. He was quiet, almost still.

 

This is what I live for, I thought. The rescue. My heart warmed just a little. Okay, I’ll try, baby. I’ll try. I held him close for a moment and I knew God had a plan. I just had to be willing. Happy New Year, baby Mando, I whispered.

 

Mando intake, 2.5 kilos Mando, after 3 weeks, 3.9 kilos

Jan 2010 884  Mando 1

 

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