Thursday, 31 July 2014

There's a set of twin girls in our NICU right now that were born the day I arrived in Haiti.  They're small, but fortunately doing well otherwise.  However, I was sorry to learn that their mother is only 16.  The idea of caring for twin infants is exhausting enough; I can't really fathom doing it at 16 years of age, possibly with limited education, complete lack of resources, and no social services to speak of.  The first day this mother visited the NICU, she looked dazed.  Watching her pick up one of her new daughters, it was obvious she had rarely, if ever, held a baby before.  The nurses were impatient and curt, and she remained silent, eyes downcast.  As the weeks have gone by, though, I've seen this young woman show up every day to care for her girls, and she always waves and smiles now when I pass her in or around the hospital.

Last week there was an animated debate going on around the twins' bedsides.  When I asked one of the nurses what was happening, I was informed that the mother wanted the babies baptized.  I kept hearing the word "marraine" and could not figure out why they were all looking at me so expectantly, until finally I remembered that "marraine" means "godmother" and realized they were asking if I wanted to be godmother for one of the twins.  Barely one month earlier, still at home in the states, I had been honored and proud to become godmother of my new nephew, Gregory.  But there had been dozens and dozens of other people present at his baptism to support and celebrate him.   My heart sank.  Surely there had to be somebody better suited to be godmother for this baby than a foreign nurse who barely speaks the language and will only be in the country for a year.  The mother is only 16--there have to be sisters, or aunts, or friends, or somebody who will be helping this girl...don't there?  They had to be joking...didn't they?  But as I stood frozen, looking around, I noticed nobody was laughing.