I lack the writing skills to properly explain the situation. Even if I sat here for hours, editing my thoughts, I would never succeed in communicating the contradictions of emotions that these children have brought to me. Honestly, I don’t even know if my own brain can comprehend it all.
Last night, I had the opportunity to spend the night with the remaining orphans. I believe there were about fourteen of them, though I spent my time with the youngest three: a ten month old who was only twelve pounds, a one year old who looked six months old, and a healthy, babbling, vibrant one year old girl.
These children are breathtaking. They are beautiful, smart, so loving to one another, and amazingly resilient. These children will forever be in my heart, and I only spent 6 hours with them. I will think of them often, and hope that they have every opportunity to continue to be the amazing people they are.
I don’t speak any creole, and very, very, little french, so my communication with the older children was limited at best. “Bonjou” does not simply mean hello or good afternoon (like “bonjour” in french does), it means “good day” and is used only before 11am. A five year old girl, when I greeted her with “bonjou!” smiled at me and said, “non, bonswa!” giggling with bright eyes. I attempted to ask her how she was, but I only knew how to do so in french. “Comment ça va?” She giggled again, understanding my botched french accent, and replied: “Non! Komon ou ye?… Mwen byen! Mesi!” She ran off in her pajamas to play with her friends, the other orphaned children.
The children all went to bed around eight, and I sat in the infant room listening to the three babies sleeping in the donated pack ‘n plays.
These children? Are amazing.
This morning I woke up with Alex. I woke up to his little voice singing, “Moooooommmmyyy!” Over breakfast, he told me: “You weft wast night. I cwied. Daddy put spaceships on the TV!” I took the time to explain to him where I was and what I was doing. I told him that I had spent the night with children who don’t have mommies and daddies.
“No Mommy? Oh…dey’re sad.”
I told him that they may be a little sad, but most of them were actually very happy. They had each other, and wonderful big people to take of them, I explained.
Alex looked at me, very seriously, and told me: “No…dey’re sad. Dey don’t have a mommy? Dey’re sad.”
I hugged him extra tight, gave him a kiss on his cheek, and told him I loved him.
If you haven’t yet, please donate to Haiti. Every little bit helps, and we can all do something.