The Wee-ist Ones

33 tiny ones with room for 50 and 2 nurses. This is what I saw when we entered the NICU in the hospital in Silchar.  Little tiny ones...with sticky, transparent skin. So thin that I could see their blue veins and their little hearts beating in their chests.  Many were so sick that I knew they wouldn't be there the next day.  A few, I was certain, were taking their last breaths right there in front of us, irregular respirations and unable to cry, their mouths open in an weak attempt with tearless eyes.  The NICU was a far cry from what we would see in the US. There was only one ventilator, a lack of equipment and not many Mothers.  A group of Mothers sat in a small room right in front of the entry door.  Holding their babies and feeding them.  To enter, we had to remove our shoes and the nurses or Moms would give us some sandals, sometimes their very own, that were allowed in the ward, "for infection." I met a young Doctor that chose to work there. I asked him if he was a resident and had to work there in the government hospital and he answered "No. I want to work here."

The great Dr. that keeps an eye on all the babies in the NICU

 And so, we added a trip by the NICU to our daily rounds that included the men and women in the burn unit and other wards.  Bed by bed, we walked with him as he told us their stories. There were sets of twins, septic workups, malnourished, and "brain injuries during birth."  They had handwritten tags attached to them and were doubled up in the beds.  Many, many times, he would get to a baby and say that they were abandoned and almost all of the abandoned were baby girls. I started to ask questions. The ones with a Mother, why weren't the mothers there to hold them as they died?  He explained that the mothers came every 2 hours and were allowed to breast feed but that they didn't understand due to their lack of education. I asked, talking about the ones that were near death, "Im sure they want to be here, Im sure they care." Then he said something that I cannot get out of my mind or heart. He said to me, "Its not that they don't care. They cant care."  As he explained the differences in a government hospital and a private one, I started to think of the situation there.  What it means to have a girl baby.  For the most part, girls cant grow up and and make money, and in fact, a girl costs the family money in the form of a large dowery once it is time for her to marry.  Add this to the stress of daily life without shelter, money, health care, or enough food to feed the mouths that are already starving and one can see why abandoning a tiny girl is a choice for many parents in the area.

Double bunked with handwritten tag

      I grew fond of a chunky little girl, she was healthy and was going to be discharged to a state orphanage in the following days. Abandoned. I would hover a bit longer by her bed, touching her arms and fat legs, praying, racking my brain and for a split second trying to think if it would be possible for me or a friend to adopt her.  Just this one.  What future would she have if she had a family. Would she grow up in Assam and be adopted, would she change the world? And then one morning, I was searching for her and I asked him, "Where is my baby?" He said, "She expired last night, she had convulsions." On that same morning, I looked around the room and saw more then one "expired" baby still in their beds or moved to a metal shelf, ones that did not survive the night. I think of her and them often.

     We were lucky enough to also visit the L & D ward and even met a brand new baby, minutes old. Women are not allowed to have anyone with her during birth except for the doctor.  They deliver alone, on a cold metal bed of sorts.  I hope one day this will change.  We also checked in on the mothers with babies that were not sick enough for the NICU but were not able to go home. Full of smiles, they would proudly unwrap their wee ones for us to see each and every morning.  Growing them up, hopeful for discharge home. 

I will never forget the alone, beautiful, abandoned, precious girl babies.  They DID leave their mark in this world.  As small as they were and as short of a life many of them lived, they changed someone. Me. The translators. The nurses. The doctors. Their Mothers. I think about how, simply because of where they were born, they will never have the chance to become what they could have been.  I am grateful that I can do and become whatever I would like. This, I will not take for granted.

Happy Birthday, today is your day!