Here's part 2 of our day at Go Nap. I LOVE seeing the impact our trips have and all but especially the young!
Here's Ali's note
At least seven times did I squeeze my boyfriend's arm that morning and exclaim with gritted teeth and a wide smile, "I'm so excited to hold babies today!" In Go Vap Orphanage, the baby room is most often found to be the most lighthearted room of the facility - since the majority of the children have special needs or physical ailments.
As we began the march up to the stairs to the far-too-familiar room on the left, my heart was expectedly full and my grin was huge. I suddenly remembered the overwhelming feeling of needing to grow 9 more arms to hold everyone that deserved to be held (which was every baby). I paced by the cribs until one boy finally grabbed the railing, stood up, grunted, and then reached his little arms up as far as the could go. I picked him up and swiped his sweaty hair away from his forehead, only to discover a heat rash all along his hairline. A strong grip this baby had, his legs were wrapped around my waist almost as tight as his fists where clenching my t-shirt. It took him a while to smile, I had to throw him up in the air a couple times to get him to giggle. He was an angel baby - completely content with sitting in between my legs and resting his head on my chest.
This is my boyfriend, Niko's, first time to Go Vap, let alone Vietnam. I continued to witness him be completely taken by the amount of disability at Go Vap, finding light and joy in the baby room - which is what is expected, which is what I expected to feel too. Oddly, the room I felt the most heartbreak, sorrow, and anger (so much anger!!) in, was the baby room. The room I looked to, to lift me, only stood on my shoulders and pushed my feet deep into the floor. My heat-rashed, perfectly healthy, angel baby would be a blessing to any parent, which is a thought that has never crossed my mind. I've lost track of how many times I have visited Go Vap (however, I know my first time was when I was 9). Perhaps this new thought pattern is born from visiting the facility so many times and not being shocked by what is expected to be shocking. Or perhaps, simply because I am seeing Go Vap with eyes that are 10 years older.
But I have never felt anger at Go Vap. Sorrow, confusion, heartbreaking sympathy, and even frustration - but never clear and burning anger. He deserves (as they all deserve) a life that is more than sweating in a crib for the majority of their childhood - and there is so little that I can do about that, except hold him and pray for him. And that's what makes me so angry.
Nikos note;
Go Vap. An orphanage home to some of the unfortunate children of Vietnam, yet it is also home to the most amazing, beautiful, and kind children. I arrived at Go Vap, not expecting anything to what I witnessed. I arrived to a circle of children gathered singing and clapping. The closer I looked, the more I realized that some of these kids had special needs. As I moved closer towards the circle, I was a tad bit scared to maybe scare, or upset one of the children, but the kids came to me and were very welcoming and happy.
I joined some of the kids in the circle as I noticed one who just wanted to be carried, so I did. The child was so full of life and happiness as I held him in my arms. I could feel the boy's positive energy just radiating from his skin. I played with the child some until I had to deliver ice cream to the other children at the orphanage. The kids were so grateful and I thought to myself, "how could ice cream make children so happy?" Growing up in the states, ice cream is just ice cream, but to these kids, it's so much more. It's happiness, it's tasteful sugar, it's a treat the don't really experience often. The ice cream was a symbol of happiness.
We finished delivering the ice cream when I noticed the boy who would play with me was looking at me, waiting for me to arrive back so we could play some more. The boy and I played until he had to leave and then we arrived at the nursery. The nursery had approximately 15 babies and about half of them had disabilities. It broke my heart to hear some of the stories of these children either just being left out with no one to care for. I walked around and greeted them all to my nicest capacity and I noticed one baby in his cradle, watching me.
I crouched down to interact with the child and the more I did the more he smiled. As I'm playing with him, Ali Pfleger comes up and tells me to pick him up and how much he would love it. I, at first, was too afraid to pick him up, having fears of the child not liking it or being upset by it. Ali continued to tell me that I should and I continued to be afraid until she told me that this beautiful baby boy doesn't normally get held. In that moment I realized that if I miss this opportunity to hold this child, it will be one I will regret, and so I gathered up all of my courage and carried the baby.
The child and I played for hours till we had to leave. I could tell that the child was so happy to finally be out of that cradle and to be free. I put the child back because we had to leave, but it was so hard to leave him. The more I looked at this baby in his crib, the more I wished and prayed that he would have the life of prosperity, happiness, and love. It took a lot of my will to not cry as I left the child, but I knew that he was in God's hands. We then entered one of the hardest things to see, the children with hydrocephalus.
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