I just heard an interesting and haunting Christmas carol. It was a combination/juxtaposition of the classic “What Child is This” with a song unfamiliar to me called “Child of the Poor” (written by Scott Soper, published by OCP Publications c. 1994). The lyrics which struck me were these: “Helpless and hungry, lowly, afraid, wrapped in the chill of midwinter; comes now among us, born into poverty’s embrace, new life for the world….”
You may be wondering what this has to do with adoption. These lyrics struck me because I heard them not only the week before Christmas, but on the birthday of my daughter.
The single sheet of information I have about my daughter’s origin indicates that she was born in “unsanitary conditions” in a house where her birthmother was staying temporarily. She and her birthmother were found and taken to the hospital the following day because the mother was hemorrhaging. We have met both caregivers at the hospital where she spent the next two weeks and the foster mother who cared for her for the next eight months, and they are wonderful. Nevertheless those first 24 hours haunt me. If her mother was hemorrhaging, who was taking care of my baby? I’ve been to Korea in December. It was snowy and cold. My daughter weighed only four pounds. She could have been seriously in jeopardy from dehydration, hypothermia, low blood sugar, or who knows what else.
I find comfort in an old episode of “Touched by an Angel”. The show was about adoption in China. One of the show’s angels is shown holding a baby in her arms under her coat outside an orphanage door all night, talking to her softly and reassuringly. The angel becomes invisible when anyone passes by. When the child is found and brought into the orphanage, the angel accompanies her, unseen. When the human staff have left the room, we see what the angel sees: every crib has an angel around it, all gazing adoringly at “their” babies. “Hi, I’m Gloria,” says the newly arrived angel brightly. All the angels turn and wave, say hello, then they and Gloria each return to their intense focus on their individual charges.
I believe my baby was never alone after all.