Goodbye, Baby

There may be times when we are powerless to prevent injustice, but there must never be a time when we fail to protest.  –Elie Wiesel

An infant named Loveness died on Tuesday.  She was four months old, and she was almost our daughter.

We met her when she was 11 days old.  We’d been in contact with an orphanage director who told us that she was available for adoption.  We immediately hopped in our car and drove four hours to make it happen.

We met the Aunt who brought Loveness to the orphanage.  For hours she had dripped sugar water from a plastic sack into Loveness’s mouth, because she didn’t have any milk.  When they finally arrived at the orphanage, Loveness sucked down a bottle of warm formula.

When I met sweet Loveness,   I held her on my chest.  That little spit-fire of a girl lifted her head up and looked around.  She was healthy, despite a rough start in life.

We took the Aunt to the social welfare office and waited in the car while the she talked to the social worker. The social worker, who was convinced that the Aunt was trafficking the baby, tried to make her confess to the crime.  But the Aunt held firm, and the social worker conceded, “Fine.  But you need a letter from the headman [who reports to the chief] in your village giving permission to release the baby for adoption.  And…you will all need to meet with me in my office next week.”

The next step was to get the letter from the headman.  We drove two-hours until we reached her village.  Soon we were surrounded by Loveness’s extended family, who were puzzled by our arrival.

Writing the letter

The family discussed letting us adopt the baby and they agreed that this was the best option for her.  The headman spoke fluent English and crafted a letter officially releasing the baby to us.  My favorite moment was when we showed them iPhone video of our children chasing each other on their scooters.  They laughed and laughed.  It seemed like a perfect fit.

With letter in hand, we returned to our hotel and then back to Lusaka.  We arranged to meet everyone again at the social welfare office in a few days.

But tragedy struck the family once again—another relative died—so they postponed the social welfare meeting so they could sort out funeral arrangements.

And it was at the funeral that Loveness’s adoption plan came unraveled.  The funeral attendees discussed the implications of adoption and what so-and-so would think if they found out.  As the headman later told us, “It threw us upside down.”

The family revoked their permission, even though no one was able to take Loveness into their home.  The headman assured us he’d come and collect her one day--when she was 3 or 4 years old.  Until then, she would remain at the orphanage.

Of course this broke our hearts, but there was nothing we could do about it.

Do I think we could have prevented this tragedy?  I don’t know for sure, but one study indicates babies are absolutely better off living with their mothers in prison than living in an orphanage. 

Author Maia Szalavitz wrote a great post here about the dangers of orphanages.   

 “But how could simply being in an orphanage kill a baby? Basically, they die from lack of love. When an infant falls below the threshold of physical affection needed to stimulate the production of growth hormone and the immune system, his body starts shutting down.”

I wish more than anything that we could have brought Loveness home. And, God forbid, if she had died anyway—despite being loved and cherished—at least our arms could have ushered her to heaven. 

Baby Loveness, I’m sorry your biological mother and father were not able to care for you. That is a hardship. I’m sorry that you died before you had a chance to live.  That is a tragedy.

But the fact that you were denied a family of your own...well, that is an injustice.

Rest in peace, sweet child.