Signing a slip of paper I couldn’t read, I was aware that for the next few hours I had agreed to take full responsibility of the little baby that lay so peaceful in my arms. I honestly knew nothing of this child except that she had come to our orphanage with some sort of medical problem and was now stable enough to go back to our sister orphanage. On the other side, coming from our sister orphange, there were four babies which required extra medical care that our orphanage could provide so an exchange of babies was required.
Thinking my toughest hurdle would be walking down the stairs, I took each step with care not wanting to fall down and squash my charge, while ahead of me a fellow volunteer carrying another healthy baby was following two chinese staff at a Speedy Gonzalez pace. After making it safely down the stairs I felt confident enough to quicken my pace catching up with those in front.
“We have to get to the train platform to exchange the babies before the train leaves again!” said the American volunteer who had done this many times before. She then pointed to the platform gate entry and my heart skipped a beat. In front of us was a large crowd of people all pushing in the same direction towards the train platform. Having caught Cityrail trains during peek hour, I should have been use to having bodies pressed up against me at all angles, but this time was different, this time I was holding a child who needed protecting. As each person pushed themselves or was pushed against me I prayed my child wouldn’t be squished to death from the force of the crowd. It was dishearting to know that nobody around seemed to care that I was carrying a child. Ahead my American friend took the less subtle approach by kicking and glaring at each and every person who dared press up against her child.
Finally we made it out of the crowd but the pressure was still on. We were asked to run up the stairs towards the opposite end of the platform. The train the new babies arrived on was also the same train our babies were departing on so we only had three minutes to find the other group and complete the baby swap. Running down the platform, the other volunteers ran towards us, their seats had changed and they needed to be at the other end.
Somehow within those few minutes paperwork was exchanged and the baby I was carrying was swiftly taken out of my arms and a bundle of blankets replaced her. One Volunteer saw my confused face “be careful” she warned me, “you have a premature baby in your arms”. Walking back through the surging crowd, I looked down at the blankets in my arms, I couldn’t feel any weight in my arms, nor could I feel any movement, I didn’t even know which way the head was or if I was crushing it awkwardly against my chest.
As I stood pressed amongst the crowd of noisy people I was aware of the slightest movement, the smallest of kicks from within the blankets. I couldn’t help but smile at the joy I received at simply feeling a child kick through a blanket. As soon as we were in the van, we all quickly unwrapped our bundles to see who we were given.
Back at the orphanage, compared to all the other babies my 1.5kg, balding, baby boy was so small his head easily fit into the palm of my hand. Looking at bits of dried blood that remained caked into his hair, he was scooped up from my arms to be looked after, leaving me no time to analyse if the blood was that of a new born child or from a recent operation.
As the staff buzzed around him, I marveled at how this tiny child and many others like him regardless of gender, nationality or creed are living proof of the miracle of life. The gift of every human life is so precious, especially here in China, that it was an honor to be able to witness just one daily miracle that happens amongst those who give up their time so generously.
I'm glad you're still writing stuff. Damn, great story xoxo
