When most people think of an orphan, they probably think of a child whose parents have died. That was typically what came to my mind as well until I started working more with orphans and vulnerable children these past few years. Before, I would have assumed that most orphanages are filled with children who do not have living parents. Now, I'm coming to realize that a lot of the children in many of the orphanages I have visited have at least one biological parent who is still alive, but who is either unable or unwilling to take care of the child. That was what I experienced today...

As I show pictures from trips like Namibia, and now Haiti, people always remark about how happy the children look. I've already posted one story about The Lamb Center here in Haiti and I've received comments about the beautiful smiles of the children, and so on. And it's easy for me to focus on those smiles as well. Often I'll even tell them to smile for photos. I love seeing how their faces light up with those pearly white smiles! For many of the children, however, unless they were too young to remember a life prior to coming to a place like The Lamb Center, there is a lot of pain behind those smiles. I've already seen that in some of the kids here. There are always those who seem to stay off to themselves or who can't as easily be coerced into a happy smile for the camera. I think about Ringo from FHS who at five years old was one of the toughest kids at the center. It took months for me to get a sincere smile out of him.

What I experienced today was not a happy, seemingly well adjusted child at an orphanage. Today I got a glimpse into Day 1 in the life of an orphan. And it wasn't pretty.

I arrived at The Lamb Center ready to paint with the rest of the team when Kalebe (the director) asked me to accompany him to pick up a baby and take it to his mother's orphanage in Port-au-Prince. About 2-3 hours away depending on traffic (which is insane here!). I got permission and headed off. We drove down some back roads, parked, and walked a little ways until we arrived at a wooden shack. On the way, Kalebe told me a little about the situation. The mother of this 9 month old baby was only 14 years old. In addition to having that baby to care for, she is also three months pregnant. The grandmother is unsure who the father is in both cases. In this situation the family is just not able to properly care for the baby. As if I couldn't already feel the pain and intensity of this situation, before knocking at the door Kalebe remarked, "I am very sad for this baby." I echoed that statement, but I couldn't stop thinking about what the mother was going through.

The mother answered the door with the baby in her arms. The baby--who apparently hasn't been named yet--was very small for his age, definitely malnourished. Kalebe talked with her for a little while until we were interrupted by some men carrying a sick woman into that same house. Soon, all of the neighbors were around us checking out that situation and wondering about the baby. Intense. That's the best way to describe it all. As everyone was talking, I kept glancing at the mother--only a child herself! Her mood was somber and soon I started to see her eyes begin to fill with tears. My heart was so heavy. I thought, "Here I am, standing in front of these Haitian people. About to take this baby from a crying mother, and I'm about to completely lose it." There were a couple times I had to turn my head from everyone and hope my own tears would disappear. Before we left, Kalebe wanted me to take a photo of the girl and her baby. I knew it would be wonderful to be able to give the photo to the mother. When we told her we wanted to take one, she went inside the house. She came back out a few minutes later and it was obvious she had taken a moment to herself to cry. I took the photo, my tears flowing by this time, and then gave the mother a hug. She didn't hug me back. She just stood there. I can't even imagine all of her thoughts and emotions at that moment.

One of the ladies carried the baby to the truck while Kalebe and I followed. I had a hat on but no sunglasses. I kept my head low because by that point I was crying. I've always been on the other end of orphanages. Playing with the kids. Listening to their songs. Amazed by their joy in the midst of their circumstances. But this was a much different perspective. And this was painful. When I was handed the baby, the tears didn't stop. I tried to say a few things to Kalebe but my words were shaky. I asked him to hand me my sunglasses so it would be a little less obvious to everyone outside that the white woman in the front seat holding a baby was bawling her eyes out.

We had put him in a full outfit and a diaper, all of which were way too big for him. We didn't have a bottle, but knew there would be food waiting for him where we were going. At first, he was pretty limp in my arms. Curious about the new environment. But soon he began to cry. I could tell he was tired and I'm sure he was hungry. And I know he missed his mom. When we were passing him back and forth at the house, he always reached for her. I prayed that God would allow the baby to rest. The drive to Port-au-Prince is pretty crazy, bumpy, and unpredictable. After a little while, he finally did fall asleep. And by God's grace he stayed asleep the whole trip!

Once we reached the house, everyone there was happy to meet him. He instantly had a handful of brothers and sisters and was wide-eyed taking everything in. The girls all gathered around as I fed him a bottle--which he drank without hesitation. I know Kalebe's mom will do a great job nursing him back to health and offering the best life that she can. Maybe he will even get adopted one day. Kalebe and his brother were orphans themselves when Sue adopted them. And now they are running the orphanage! So I have no doubt this baby will grow up in a loving and caring environment. Even still, I will never forget the mother's face and feeling a bit of the pain she felt and is still feeling now on her first night without him. And I know that from now on, when I see the smiles of these children and others like them, I will have a new perspective on their journey--from beginning to end.

The baby and his mother

Some of his new sisters

Getting lots of attention and a good meal