Well, I survived my first day of volunteering at the orphanage. It was quite the job to dive right in to, and definitely a little uncomfortable. After changing into scrubs and having a quick language lesson with Mario, everyone was hurried off to their designated sections and that was that. We were given very little direction, so I wasn’t even really sure what my limitations were as far as working with the kids in my section.The Romanian staff ignored me entirely, and only spoke to me when I asked them a question. For the most part, they were caught up in their own duties and just worked around me. I guess my only hesitation came from all the words of caution that past interns gave us about not doing anything to make them mad. They also said that on random days the workers will not allow you to hold the kids, because they say it will make them cry more once you put them down.
I felt a little bit more at ease after a while, and one of the workers told me that I could hold any of the kids who hadn’t just been fed, so I just went from crib to crib and held and talked to as many of the kids as I could in the three hours we were there. I quickly discovered during that time how difficult it is to give quality attention to 20-25 babies in just three hours. I didn’t get around to every one of them, but I did get to know a few faces pretty well.
About five or six of the infants and toddlers in Isolation are normally developed and healthy and the remainder are pretty severely disabled. Three of these kids are much older, but you would never know just by looking at them. They are 6, 7, and 13. The majority of the others are between 1 and 2 years. Many of the children suffer from Cerebral Palsy, respiratory trouble, clubbed feet, and epilepsy, but there are many other diseases and disorders.
Matei was the one I spent the most amount of time with today. He is 6 ½, but only about as developed as a one year old. The workers were all watching t.v. next to him while he just sat in his seat, crying silently with tears streaming down his face. I picked him up and rocked him and talked to him for a while and he finally calmed down. After holding others in his room, I peeked my head in another room to get familiar with some other faces. This room was all of the youngest infants. Most were all sleeping, but one baby was crying and held out his arms to me as soon as he saw me peeking in. Some of the other babies were starting to stir a little, so I picked him up and started singing and he immediately quit crying and just stared into my eyes for the longest time.
All these kids just long to be held and loved and it breaks my heart to know they can’t have that whenever they need it. What kills me too, is that there are two newborns in one of the rooms who are still absolutely perfect. The damage of being raised in an institution has not yet started, and I just wished I could take them away from there and preserve them just the way they are.
My spirits were lifted a ton by 7 year-old Cristi. This little boy lights up the room and is the happiest kid I have ever met, which astounds me considering his circumstances. He is severely disabled and cannot talk, but every time I even look at him, he gets the biggest grin on his face and coos really loud. His breathing is extremely loud and croaky sounding. It was a little scary at first, but I got past it right away. Every time I touch him, he starts laughing hysterically. I have a good feeling this one will be my little lifesaver on days that are difficult.
After finishing at the orphanage for the day, Elisa, Elyse and I took a taxi to the “Cosco” of Romania and used some of my donation money to stock up on diapers and wipes to take to the hospital. We piled two carts full of giant packs of diapers and wipes and still only ended up spending the equivalent of $300. We definitely got a lot of strange looks throughout the store, at the checkout, and especially from the taxi driver when we loaded it all into his tiny compact car.
Once we got all the diapers divvied up between the two apartments and put away, we walked to the hospital. It was an extremely difficult day for me at the hospital, but I was blessed with one of the most touching experiences I have ever had.
There’s a 9 year-old boy named Marios staying there, and a few of the girls in our group have been visiting with him for the past couple of days. He was in a fire about six months ago, and his parents and all but one sibling did not survive. He was severely burned over his entire body, but the worst damage was done to his face. He has no nose and the skin is completely scarring over. His fingers all had to be amputated. He couldn’t wear any clothes, and just his legs were wrapped in gauze. All his other burns were exposed. A few girls from last semester’s group visited him on a regular basis, and now one of those girl’s family is paying to have him flown to California in about a month for skin graphing and a face reconstruction. I am so thrilled for him.
It was Melissa’s and my turn to go visit with Marios for about an hour today, and left unbelievably moved by this courageous boy. Whitney asked me to go in her place, because she couldn’t handle looking at him yesterday. I was a little nervous walking in to see him, because I just didn’t know if I would be able to handle it either. It was a shock seeing him in that condition, but was surprised at how instantly I was able to put all my reservations and fears aside. The first initial shock was immediately replaced with a deep love for him and I could feel the Lord strengthening me.
Within minutes, I saw how incredibly normal Marios was for any nine year old boy underneath the burns. Melissa and I took turns reading to him, which I think provided him with far more entertainment than the storyline itself. We completely butchered it, and realized how horrible we were at pronouncing all the hard words when he’d randomly burst into laughter. We asked him if he understood the storyline though, and felt a fraction better when he said that he did. As Melissa read, I sat at the end of his bed and every once in a while he would look over and just smile at me. At one point, my eyes filled up with tears and I had to quickly look away so he wouldn’t see me crying. Once while I was reading, too, he reached out and touched my arm. I will never forget that.
After reading to Marios, he showed us a cell phone he had and all the pictures he had stored on it. I was amazed that he could press all the buttons without any fingers or knuckles. It did take him some effort though and there were a few times he couldn’t get the right button and needed our help. He had individual pictures of all his stuffed animals and told us their names. Then he had about a million pictures of his mom. He pointed and said, “She’s up with God now.” Again, I just smiled and struggled not to cry.
Right before heading out, the mother of another patient in Marios’s room came in and began applying medicine to her little toddler’s severely burned legs and side. The little girl cried out like I have never heard a little kid cry before. I could only imagine what excruciating pain she was in. I had to hurry and leave the room, and could hear the little girl pleading with her mom to stop the whole way down the hall. It broke my heart.
As I walked down the flights of stairs towards the main level, and saw parents walking around with children in hospital robes and a little boy being rolled in on a gernie, the same thought kept going through my mind…how is it ever possible that I was blessed so much!
