I walked down the hall illuminated by sunlight feeling hopeful, the white slippers and white jacket I was required to wear made me feel like I had purpose, and I was ready to save the world holding one precious baby at a time.
I touched the doorknob and turned it, at this point confused on how I should feel, I pushed the door open gently and there she was, asleep in her glass case – the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. With her eyes closed she looked like a porcelain doll, but she was so much more than that. Her head rested on a towel that acted as her “pillow”, folded at the top of her thin foam pad she had to sleep on. There was one blanket draped over her and that was all.
When a child is born there are things that are already “theirs”. They have a dresser full of adorable outfits waiting for them that their mother and father and all the family and friends who would love them have purchased. They have blankets, quilts, and “blankies”. They have an endless supply of fresh diapers ready to be used and changed as often as needed. They have stuffed animals and mobiles decorating their beautiful crib that their nervous but beaming father put together upon the anticipation of their arrival.
She had none of that. “Home” is a glass box on 4 legs with squeaky wheels to sleep in until she gets too big and the hospital has to find something else to do with her. “Outfits” are a few donated clothes that are rotated between her and the other babies that are either far too large or far too small for her on any given day. And a donated diaper or two that have to last her the entire day.
She was peaceful, fast asleep, but it didn’t matter. I didn’t care if I woke her up and she started to wail, she was an infant and she needed to be held. Once I had her safely in my arms I examined her “bed” looking for a clue about who this little princess was. On the glass wall of her “home” was a piece of white tape. On the tape in thin blue ink were 5 scribbled letters, “Kybys”. That is it, that was all she had to define her.
I never knew her age, I never knew her story. I never knew who her mother was or why her mother abandoned her at the hospital. I never knew how she got the name “Kybys” written over her bed or why it was placed there with such carelessness – the edges of the tape not even pressed down. Eventually, maybe a week after holding her for hours every day, a nurse hesitantly told me her name is Anastasia. I never knew why it took so long for me to learn her name, why the nurse hesitated in telling me it, and why it was not written above her bed. Every child deserves a full name and that name to be worn with pride. There is pride and there is purpose in a child’s name. I never knew why she didn’t get that opportunity, to be looked over with pride and named as a child given life for a purpose.
There are lots of things I don’t know about her.
But I do know that she has these cheeks on her face that never stopped making me smile and these round eyes that made my heart get bigger with love every time I looked at them. I do know that she has a tight grip and loves to suck on my fingers and hers. I do know that she loved to stand up on my lap and dance and we had a game where I would kiss her hand and she would kiss her hand and then her face would light up with a huge toothless smile. I do know that she gets hiccups every day and they always made me laugh, she yawns when she has no intention of falling asleep, and her giggles are rare but each time I heard one I would tuck it away in my soul like a precious treasure. And I do know that every day I would pray over her, sing over her, and tell her that she is the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen and that I love her and Jesus loves her to absolutely no end.
Honestly, I want to be her Mama. I want to buy her ruffled dresses and put bows in her hair. I want to feed her and clean up her spit up and dirty diapers. I want to give her dolls so she can play “Mama” and take care of them how her Mama took care of her. I want to raise her to know about Jesus and is uncontainable love for her. I want to discipline her even if it means she hates me for a few years. I want to protect her from as much of the evilness of the world as I can. I want to see the amazing, intelligent, talented woman she will become. I want to make her feel as important as my Mama made me feel. But I can’t. Aside from now not being the time for me, the Ukrainian adoption laws don’t allow foreigners to adopt babies until they are 5 years old.
What will happen to her between now and then? It’s just another thing I don’t know.
But one more thing I do know is how many wonderful people there are out there looking to adopt. During my month of holding those precious abandoned babies every day I was contacted by numerous amazing families showing serious interest in adopting one of those precious gifts. I saw first-hand how desperate of a need there is for these babies to get adopted. If this is something God has put on your heart and it is His timing for you to pursue it now, PLEASE do not hesitate. Don’t be discouraged by the process, don’t fear the roadblocks, He will supply you with everything you need. There are babies who need you, who deserve so much more than a piece of tape to define them.
All 4 babies we loved on all month… and their pieces of tape…
