26 Nov When You Find A Baby…
December 3rd is a date etched in my mind.
The mother in me was awakened that day, and I’ve never been the same.
December 3rd, 2014 will mark 15 years since I found a tiny child, alone in the dark, vulnerable.
My heart still beats hard in my chest when I think back and dwell on the details of that morning.
I was young and married, and still a year away from being pregnant with my first child. Newly transplanted to Texas, from the Northwest, I was out of my element in a land with short trees and orange earth.
Outside, in the early morning, taking the puppy out quickly became much more than I had bargained for. I heard a newborn cry. The one that is unmistakable. A tiny babe, brand new.
Scanning, I saw no one carrying an infant, but I did see a strange bundle in the back of our pick up. “OhMyGod” and the pit in my stomach scratches the surface of what it was like to realize that the baby was in that bundle.
Holler at the husband…
Get the bundle to the couch…
Unravel the wrappings to see a tiny girl, fresh from birth, with a long length of unclamped cord…
Of the two times in my entire life, that I’ve felt the need to say OHMYGOD repeatedly, this is one.
The rush begins. Call 911, frantically describe what you see, lights & sirens and soon the whole world is awake.
As I’m on the phone, freaking my parents out with a middle of the night call, the EMS team whisks their new charge out of my living room, and I don’t even know that I’ll never see her again.
This tiny girl, who had been in my house for all of fifteen or twenty minutes, had captivated my mind and my heart. I have NEVER felt more compelled to take care of a child who isn’t mine, than I did with this child. It then drove me crazy, of course, that I had no ability or authority to have access to how she was doing, or whether there was a permanent home for her, outside of what was published in the media.
As it would turn out, she was adopted, and fairly quickly. The only update that’s ever been shared with me was through a newspaper article when she was around 5, showing a beautiful and spunky little girl, being loved by her adoptive family.
Those who’ve known me very long, know that I post every year about her being one year older. They know that her name is Victoria, but that the nurses all called her Angel. They know how much I still hope, that someday when she’s old enough, that she’ll find me and let me know that she’s well.
Authored by Kristyn Blocher