Thursday, October 15, 2015

Day 6: Love In Time

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One of the bags we packed for the hospital: puppy, earbuds, books for him and a book for me. 

I sat in a pre-op hospital room yesterday reading a book to a little guy who was slap-happy from Versed. He laughed loopily at a common enough frog, and as he did, I realized that over the years I had read this same book to two other kids as they too were prepped for surgery. It had unintentionally become our de facto surgery book.

Many, many hours later the nurse paged me to recovery. “You can come back now. He’s ready to see you,” she said. A distraught little boy was pulling agitatedly at his IV and crying. “He’s been calling for you,” she told me. History was repeating itself.

The other two children, to whom I’d read the book about the unfunny frog, had woken up calling my name too (or in one case screaming my name in Thai like her life depended on it).

The take-away from this isn’t that they were calling my name. It’s that they had someone to call.

Someone was there when they woke up.

I’m not the surgeon who wields the knife. I have no power to relieve the pain. I hold the urinal and steady the puke pan.

I am not an advocate for adoption or foster care. I’m an advocate for children having families. 

I saw what love might have done, had we loved in time. --Mary Oliver
Orphanage crib
Crib at my daughter’s orphanage

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