Mayda - her name means mercy.
Another baby died this week. I never met this little boy, but we were trying to help him. He was born too early. They lived a few hours away from us and a few more hours away from a good children's hospital. And really, I wonder how many more babies will die. And I can look at all the kids who are alive and praise God for each one of them and the privilege it is to see them grow up, but there is still the part of me that asks how many more?
When I got the phone call about this little boy who died a friend and I were driving out to visit some of our kids in the next province. Mayda is one of the little girls we were going to see.
Five years ago Mayda was born in the jungle to a young mom. They cut her umbilical cord with a dirty machete. Mom died. Mayda went to live with her aunt and uncle. When she was only a few days old she started having seizures. Tetanus. She spent a few months at the children's hospital in a medically induced coma before she recovered. The hospital staff had a party for her before she returned home. Everyone was amazed she had survived.
She was 3 when we met her. Her aunt kept her hair cut short to keep her from pulling it out. She was still like a small baby lacking even the muscle strength to hold her head up on her own.
In the past two years every time we've gone to visit we've seen her growing and developing. She picks her head up. She turns to look for people when she hears them coming. She's learning to sit up on her own; training her muscles and bones to work correctly. And this past week her aunt told us she learned her first word: "Pa" she calls her uncle.
When I think of all the babies that have died I don't have the answers, but I look at Mayda and I see God's mercy and grace. There is hope. There is life. So I will remember the sweet babies who I do not get to see grow up, but I am so grateful that there are far more stories of life and sweet children who I am watching grow into amazing men and women.
When I got the phone call about this little boy who died a friend and I were driving out to visit some of our kids in the next province. Mayda is one of the little girls we were going to see.
Five years ago Mayda was born in the jungle to a young mom. They cut her umbilical cord with a dirty machete. Mom died. Mayda went to live with her aunt and uncle. When she was only a few days old she started having seizures. Tetanus. She spent a few months at the children's hospital in a medically induced coma before she recovered. The hospital staff had a party for her before she returned home. Everyone was amazed she had survived.
In the past two years every time we've gone to visit we've seen her growing and developing. She picks her head up. She turns to look for people when she hears them coming. She's learning to sit up on her own; training her muscles and bones to work correctly. And this past week her aunt told us she learned her first word: "Pa" she calls her uncle.
When I think of all the babies that have died I don't have the answers, but I look at Mayda and I see God's mercy and grace. There is hope. There is life. So I will remember the sweet babies who I do not get to see grow up, but I am so grateful that there are far more stories of life and sweet children who I am watching grow into amazing men and women.
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