Never in my life have I ever come close to working a 12 hour shift.
This month, I am voluntarily working them. And not just any 12 hour shift. These shifts involve helping take care of eight babies (ranging from one-month old to six-months old) at a halfway house for abandoned babies. These babies are in limbo between paperwork going through and arriving at their adoptive parents homes. We have been taking turns either working 12 hours during the day or 12 hours overnight in a room that never lacks a grunt, squeak, giggle or full-out wail at any moment of the day. We are helping the staff (often only one or two women per shift) feed, change, bathe and put the babies to sleep.
And I have loved every second of it.
While I wouldn’t say that I had a favorite baby, one in particular touched my heart just a little bit more than the others.
His name is Liam.
Being just one month old, he had arrived at the center just a few weeks before we arrived. The women working there think that he has colic, which meant he cried most of the day and only slept for a few hours at a time. A one month old baby that constantly cries would not normally be the first on someone’s list of favorite babies, but he quickly became mine.
I couldn’t help the way his cries tugged at my heart. The peace I felt come over him each time that I picked him up and began to dance around the room with him on my shoulder. The precious moments when his bright blue eyes, slightly goopy or crusted, would shine up at mine. The soft grunts (that made him sound more like he was a baby pig instead of human) that signaled that he had fallen asleep. The time spent deciding whether or not to put him back in his bed after falling asleep and risk him waking right back up or just letting him rest comfortably on my shoulder (I usually chose the latter).
When I looked into his sweet face, I saw nothing short of a miracle. I didn’t see a mistake. I didn’t see an unwanted son. I saw Jesus.
