Baby R was admitted to COTP in early April. She was the first child to come into our care after I moved to Haiti. It was a tough time for me. Not that I expected it to be easy, but transitioning to life in Haiti was even more difficult than I expected. I never second guessed my decision to move here, but I did wonder how I was going to adapt to life here. Things seemed rather overwhelming, then baby R came to COTP.
As is all too often the story in Haiti, R’s mother had passed away and various family members were struggling to care for her. R was a part of our formula program, yet she continued to lose weight. Her family wasn’t sure that they could continue to care for her. We agreed to admit R into our care. It wasn’t clear how R’s story would play out. Would she be able to be reunited with her family one day? Would adoption be the only option for her? We hoped that R’s time with us would give her the opportunity to get to a healthy weight, and that it would allow her family a chance to identify an ongoing caregiver for R.
When children are admitted into our care, they often stay with a staff member at first. Since they are usually malnourished or sick, it gives us a chance to give them a little extra TLC and one on one attention, before they are transitioned into our nannies’ care. I gladly took on the task of taking care of little R when she was first admitted. At a time when I was struggling quite a bit, taking care of R was a welcome distraction. Caring for her gave me a sense of purpose in being here, after all, I did come here to take care of sick and malnourished kids. I set up a crib in my room and took to the task of feeding her every three hours. One night, as I was giving R her 3AM bottle, I marveled at the fact that this was my new life. How blessed was I to have the opportunity to love on this sweet baby? This new life wasn't easy, but it was blessed. R was six months old and weighed only eight pounds, but she took a bottle easily. With consistent feeding, she started gaining weight in no time. After a week with me, she was transitioned into our nannies’ care. I was a little sad to see her go, but she was clearly ready.
R continued to gain weight and truly flourished here. I would go by the baby room to spend time with her every evening. The nannies would always tell her, “R, zanmi ou se la”, “R, your friend is here”. Her face would light up when she’d see me, she’d flash her gummy smile, and then she’d begin her eager crawl towards me. Most evenings we’d go for a walk or sit beneath the mango tree to play. She’d come with me to church on Sundays. Every week was the same routine. She’d chew on whatever necklace I was wearing during the worship music, fall asleep on my chest during the sermon, and wake up with a smile as we sung the closing song. I took her on a few trips to the hospital to get some different bloodwork done. I was relieved when we got encouraging results. One day as I was riding home from the hospital on a moto taxi, I had R on my lap, and I again reflected on how different my life had become, but also how grateful I was to be in Haiti taking care of R.
All along I prayed for R. I prayed for her health. I prayed for her family. I prayed for her future. After three months in our care, R was reunited with her family this past week. Thankfully, a family member was able to assume the task of caring for her. That is always what we want for our kids. Kids should be in a family, not at an orphanage, though we certainly miss them when they go home.
When we prayed for R before she went home, I thanked God for giving us the opportunity to take care of her. R and I had a special bond, and this little baby helped me through some tough times. R may not remember me when she grows up, but one thing is for sure, I won’t ever forget her.
Children of the Promise has given permission for the posting of the photos on this site. Photos taken of the children in the care of Children of the Promise are not to be posted publicly without explicit permission given by Children of the Promise.
