This is Elvis (pronounced El-vees). He is one month old and was brought in by his mother after a rat climbed into the box he was sleeping in and bit him on the face. The bite is mostly heeled, but I think it still hurts him. He has the softest, thickest black hair you have ever seen. He is a very serious little thing.

This is Lorena (pronounced Lo-ray-na) and she is two months old. She had some complication with her intestines and is staying in the hospital indefinately. She's happy all the time and cries the least of all the babies. Evertime she sees someone stick their tonue out her whole little face lights up, she thinks it's so funny.

This is Tunde (pronounced Toon-day) and she's less then 1 month old. She still sleeps most of the time, but when she is awake you can see her eyes are starting to focus on things. I'm not really sure why she's in the hospital... sometimes the doctors tell us and sometimes they don't.

This is David (pronounced Da-veed) and he is 5 months old. David (on account of being the oldest) is the most active. He has two of the most adorable dimples that act as an early warning system whenever he is about to smile. He has a problem in his throat that make him very susseptible to choaking when he's eating. However, they tried to return him to his family and they refused to take him. This is farely common, the families won't accept the baby back but they won't sign him over to the state either. So the child lives in the hospital, and every few months the ambulance takes them home to try to get the mother to take him. Sometimes the children can be in the hosptial for years. Holding him is Dora, Vera's daugher.

And this is Istvan (pronounced Eesht-van) and yes, he's still in the hosptial. Over the past few days he has started getting worse again, and he lost all the colour that he had been gaining. He quite likes being in the smaller room because, even when I'm not holding him, he can always see me. When he's not sleeping, he's watching me. He started talking, or at least making noises when I talk to him. He has the cutes laugh but lately, whenever he laughs, it turns into a coughing fit

This has been a truly crazy week. They are doing renovations at the hospital and as a result, we had to move our babies into a different room. This wouldn't be a problem if we didn't have seven babies and if the new room wasn't half the size of the old one. David and Darius (the twins) aren't even with us right now, they are in the next room over. And if that wasn't making things interesting enough, some kind of ruptured cyst under her arm that just won't heal. The doctors have pumped her full of medication and places her on bedrest for one week. Her daughter, Dora, and I have been holding down the fort. Between spending approx. 7 1/2 hours at the hospital everyday and helping with Codi and Andrea when I get home, blogging just sort of fell to the bottom of my to-do list. And yet, it has been an amazing week. The little babies are so tiny, so fragile, so young. And yet you can already see their individual little personalities. Watching Elvis stare in fascination at his own fingers, or seeing Tunde focus her gaze on something for a few seconds... it makes me feel blessed that I'm given the chance to see those moments. I could literally talk forever about all the little happenings that occur over the course of the day when you are surrounded by five little infants.

Half Way

I'm now working on the second half of my trip. It feels like I have been here forever, and at the same time it feels like I only just arrived. This past weekend was an eventful one... sometimes mundane, sometimes joy filled, sometimes heartbreaking. Saturday was chore day. Kathy had two sets of guests coming over the next day (Sunday) and we had to get the house ready. I washed all the windows in the sun room and it looks so nice! There's just something rewarding about washing windows.
The neighbors have an old, broken down car that has just been sitting in the courtyard. They told the girls that they could play in it if they wanted. They have spent every available second in it since.

Earlier in the week, Vera (the woman I work with in the hospital) had invited me to attend church with her and her family. So Sunday morning, I walked to their church. After the service (they are Baptists) we all piled into their car and went back to her house for lunch. And by all I mean myself, Vera, her five children, her daughter-in-law, two family friends, five children from one of the local orphanage, and two visiting Dutchmen who support Kathy's ministry. Needless to say, it took a few trips. Vera made enough food to feed thirty-eight people, not eighteen, and it was so good. Afterwards, I got to know some of the children from the orphanage. Vera's oldest son and his wife (who is American) bring some children to church every Sunday, take them back to Vera for lunch, and then return them to the orphanage. The older children spoke some English and were delighted to meet someone from "America" (I explained to them that I was from Canada, but they were too excited about the idea of me being American to listen). I really hit it off with one of the girls, Alexandra, who is 14 years old. We talked about music (when Usher came up she gave this impish grin and said, "He is a very beautiful boy!") and played clapping games. After they left, Dora told me about the situation at the orphanage. There are about 80 children, ranging in ages from 3 to 18. Aside from school, they have absolutely no extracurricular activities. The so called 'care givers' really couldn't care less about the children. The children aren't taught any life skills such as cooking or cleaning... nothing. As you can imagine, the children look forward to Sunday's very much. But the 'care givers' know this and if a child misbehaves, they take won't allow them to go.
Most of the children in the orphanage actually have families, sometimes parents. The families either can't or won't look after them, but they won't sign the papers to give the children up for adoption either, and the children spend their formative years sitting in an institution.
Alexandra came up in the conversation and Dora told me her story. When she was seven, she watched her father stab her mother to death in a drunken rage. She has been in the orphanage ever since. Then two months ago, the police picked her up for prostitution. She's only fourteen years old. I tried to wrap my mind around the idea that this person I was hearing about was the same little girl who so proudly showed me her new pink shoes. Story after story, she told me about what the reality these kids have to live in. I sat on that porch in the sunshine and felt a bit of my heart break.
I looked at Vera and her family. The seven of them depend entirely on Vera's salary from the hospital and here they are so involved in these children's lives. While others I've met, who literally had more money then they know what to do with, try to deny the existence of abandoned children in Romania! There is such a need here. And not just in the hospitals and the orphanages. The government has just made a major cut to pensions, scholarships, and salary funds. So many people are already living hand to mouth, this new cut just makes things that much worse. And yet, for all the impoverishment and corruption, it's a beautiful country. I've found the people to be hospitable and strangely optimistic, even those who don't appear to have any reason for optimism. And physically speaking, the country is stunning. The buildings exude history and character, while the country side is incredibly beautiful.
But, back to my weekend. After that massive lunch at Vera's, I and the two Dutch gentlemen went back to Kathy's for dinner. And she made a massive meal. I didn't really want to eat, but she made mash potatoes and so I had to eat some. (It is physically impossible for me to turn down mash potatoes.) Then near the end of the meal, Kim phoned and said that a bunch of them were meeting at her house and could I meet her at Rogerius at 7:30pm? Which meant I had fifteen minutes. Ah! Anyway, I spent the evening playing ping and foosball and, you guessed it, eating all the leftovers from lunch that Vera had sent. I knew I had reached my limit when I sat down and the button at the top of my jeans popped off! It was like a bad comedy, they way it flew across the floor. Talk about embarrassing. I did a McGyver with some thread that I ripped off one of the hems at the bottom of the leg. Aside from that, it was a really fun night.

There is a storm blowing in and it is absolutely glorious!!! Last night I sat on the porch at midnight and felt the weather change. I turned off all the lights (everyone else was in bed already) and just sat. I had lost my peace of mind over the past week and last night went a long way to getting it back.

On Saturday my dad phoned. That alone told me something was wrong (we talk over Skype usually) and every since I left home I've been expecting news about Maggie. They had to put her down on Saturday morning, the vet said she was bleeding eternally. Needless to say, I didn't sleep very well that night. Sunday, Andrea and I stayed home from church sick. But in the afternoon we all went to lunch at a friends house. They are Charismatic Christians (at least, I think its name) and I had some very interesting conversations. When faced with people like that I'm never sure what to say. I personally believe that simply praying for something doesn't automatically bring the thing about. You ask, and then God decides. But for them, if you ask and do not receive then your faith must not be strong enough. Kathy began feeling "odd" on the way home, we just got home in time for her to become violently ill. I took care of the girls until bedtime and after they were in bed, I turned my attention to her. I honestly don't know what she does when she gets sick ordinarily. The girls need constant attention/supervision.

On a happier note: Darius and David are gone from the hospital... because their parents came for them! Turns out there was something wrong with their house (my minuscule Romanian vocabulary doesn't allow for much detail) but they were both very happy to see the boys. Sometimes the parents come and you just want to snatch the babies back. Often the babies end up coming back anyway, sometimes on the verge of death. But these two seems like genuinely good people. The father smiled politely, but I don't think the mother even saw me... she was so focused on the boys. And David's face when his mother picked him up. David never smiled much, I think he has autism or something similar. But his whole little face lit up when he saw his mother.
An example of when you don't want to give the babies came today. Tibor's grandmother came for him. His mother wasn't with them.. because she's only 13 years old! The grandmother has ten children, the oldest in only 19, and they all still live at home. They have a one room house and when the children don't get enough to eat they substitute with garbage. Part of me hopes that they bring him back, but part of me knows that they will only do so if he gets incredibly sick. There's no happy outcome. All I can do is remember that for 9 days he was well fed, warm, and loved.

Today, I did something awful. I was holding Istvan. He had just eaten and was dropping off to sleep. He loves looking at me when he falls to sleep. Every now and then he'll crack one eyelid open and make sure I'm still there. I looked down at him and realized that I had been blatantly entertaining the thought of taking him home with me... as in home to Canada. I promised myself months before I came that I would never, ever let myself think like that. I'm not quite sure how to love a baby, know that you are one of the few people who has ever really shown him love, but somehow 'not get attached'. Kathy said that you get attached, you love them, and your heartbreak when they leave is the price for their happiness. And I am more than happy to live with that.

A Crummy Few Days and One Glorious Evening

One of these pictures was taken by Kathy and one was taken by Andrea... see if you can guess which is which. :P

Well, that cough that I've been fighting won on Wednesday. By the time I got home from the hospital I was hacking something fierce. Thursday morning I knew the moment I woke up that I would not be going to the hospital. The first problem was I had no voice (as in no voice at all) and the second was that the simple act of bending down to pick up my socks sent me into a coughing fit. Oh yeah. As a person who never really gets coughs it was kinda novel... for about an hour. Then it was just exhausting. I spend the day in bed, feeling incredibly sorry for myself. Kathy had to go to the hospital in my place because, with every crib full of sick babies, Vera needed all the help she could get. Last week Kathy had bought tickets for her and I to go see the Oradea Philharmonic preform at the nearby symphony house. So I stuffed myself full of antibiotics, we got all dressed up, and off we went. (I'd like to add that Kathy did my hair in french braids around my head and I wore my adorable new shoes... I looked pretty fine, if I do say so myself.) It was absolutely amazing! It was in the restored symphony house at Oradea's school for fine arts and the musicians were very good. The piano concerto was played by a young man my age... wow. Just wow. (Why is it that all pianist, or wannabe pianists, have long-ish crazy hair?) Afterwards, a friend of Kathy's took us downstairs and we met the pianist, the conductor, and a few of the musicians. On our way out, we somehow got talking to this old man in the lobby. He is an adorable, old, Romanian gentleman. He was the conductor of the Oradea philharmonic for 40 years and has been all over Europe with various orchestras. We ended up walking home with him. The three of us walked down the street arm in arm, talking about music. It was amazing. He told us an old Italian saying: 'If you don't have an old person in your home, go out and buy one!'. He says that it's a pity he's old enough to by Kathy's father and my grandfather and that he wishes he was younger. :) Anywho, the evening ended with us intiving him over after dinner the next day (aka today).

This morning I woke up and discovered that my cough had transformed into the worst head cold I can remember having! Yippee. I feel fuzzy and slow and grumpy and sick. The only highlight when said old man (Domnule Raitiu) came over after dinner. He brought chocolate for the girls and flowers for Kathy and me. He really is the sweetest old man. He's going to introduce us to his ex-wife next week. I can't really describe him for you except to say that he is an true European gentleman. Tomorrow Kathy's church is having a picnic day in the country. I would love to go, but we'll see how I feel in the morning.

Hospital News and Talk of Marriage

When I arrived, Istvan was still asleep and he hadn't seen my face or heard my voice yet. He's still trying to wake up and figure out if he wants to be there or not.

Then I turned him around so he could see who was holding him. Every morning when I arrive, this is the face I get.

He loves being tickled. Actually, he loves pretty much anything. Now that he's feeling better and no longer has to concentrate on just breathing, he wants to be up and doing things.

Here I am with Sergiu (3 months old, but he was born two months premature) and Vera holding our resident twins, Darius and David (1 month). The twins both have a problem in their noses and throats which makes eating difficult. Their mother gave them up a few weeks after they were born, I guess it was just to much for her. They are in the hospital because of a cough that compounds the breathing issues.

This is our newest arrival, Sergiu.

Well, as you can see from the pictures, Istvan is doing much better! Although that means that he'll be leaving us soon (I can guarantee tears on that day) it means that he's able to show off more of his little personality. He almost four months now and whew, has he put on weight! That kid is getting down right hefty!

David and Darius are 1 month old and are just newly abandoned. You can tell because they still turn their head sideways when they're hungry (babies who are breast fed will turn their heads toward your body, but babies who are used to being fed from a bottle will just look up while opening and closing their mouths). Also, they are uncomfortable with being held by strangers or moved when they are sleeping. Again, babies in hospitals and orphanages are used to strangers picking them up and slinging them from place to place. Poor David gets so stressed out his little spine arches back. Apparently this is a common symptom of stress in young infants. What seems to help the most is just wrapping him in a blanket and walking around with him until he calms down and the muscles start to relax. Darius is just naturally more compliant, I think.

Sergiu's mother disappeared from the maternity hospital, leaving him behind. The poor thing has a terrible rash on him bottom that bleeds whenever we have to change his diaper or give him a bath. Poor thing. But pick him up, and he's happy as a little clam. So long as he's being held, life is good. But if you dare put him down, he'll loudly inform you just how much he doesn't like the idea. Kathy put in well: when she came in I was holing Sergiu and she said his eyes were just saying, "I'm perfectly content to stay right like this forever. Don't you change anything!" He was born two months premature and I think he must have suffered from malnourishment as well, because the poor thing is just so skinny. Not for long of course, Vera is very determinedly getting him fattened up again.

On another note, I received two blatant marriage proposals and one hint that marriage could be a definite option. Apparently, it's quite common for young women to come from Canada to find a husband in Romania. Say 'wa? And I mean obviously, volunteering in the hospital for six hours everyday is just a cover story... I'm actually desperately searching for a husband.

But never fear, the only Romanian man in my life is Grieshka the cat. He's good looking, intelligent, has very good personal hygiene, and to top it all off: he's wonderful with children.

End of My Second Week

This week has felt more like my first real week in Oradea. My 'real' first week just sort of slammed into me, it took me awhile to catch my breath. But I am now breathing again, and starting to find my nook in this strange place. I've never stayed in someone else's home for such a long time and the adjustment has been interesting. I gotta to say though, I'm getting thoroughly attached to Kathy and the girls (especially the girls) and it's going to be rough to leave. The tram and I have come to a agreement: I accept whatever happens and it doesn't give me an absurd amount of grief (today, the only calamity was that I couldn't get the door to open and had to race to reach the next car... while all the other passengers smirked at the ignorant foreigner :P).

Istvan's cough is getting worse. All the other babies had to be moved to a different room for fear they would catch whatever he had. The doctors started him on a new treatment today, and hopefully we will starting seeing results. But for now, the poor thing just wheezes with every breath and eating is really tough. The only thing that seems to help his cough is when he's held upright. (That makes me and him happy, because now I hold him from the moment I get there until the moment I leave.) Anytime he gets upset, or moves around to much, it starts a coughing fit and leaves him absolutely exhausted. Even in his sleep he coughs, sometimes so hard that he wakes himself up.

I spoke with a neighbor who told me some amazing stories from when the country was under communism. I'll see if I can't right some of them down tomorrow.

P.S. I made an album on facebook! :D It was quite a process because Kathy's computer only allows me to use the slow upload... which means five, individually chosen pictures at a time. *sigh* But they're up now. :)

Hospital

The last few days have been focused mostly on the hospital. I arrive there at around 10:30am and I leave at about 3:30pm. Once I reach the hospital, I climb the the stairs to the ninth floor (elevators are only for official hospital staff). First thing we clean the floors and tidy anything that needs tidying. Then I sit and read while Vera sews and the babies sleep. Then at noon, it's bottle time. After eating (which, for some, is quite a process due to various medical problems) there comes the burping and then, if they're old enough, its time for some fun. The oldest is only about 4 months, so fun consists mostly of talking and singing or walking around the room with them. At about 1:45pm, the nurse comes in to give them their shots... which leaves us with a some very upset little babies. 3:00pm is another bottle/burping and then everyone is ready to sleep. I change out of my scrubs and walk back down the stairs and make my way home.

One little girl, Melinda, is only two months old but she's already responding to music. Whenever I hum or sing something to her, she will smile if she likes it, or frown if she doesn't. She loves music from LOTR and old Irish songs... but gospel music gets a furrow between the eyebrows and a wrinkling of her little nose. A cynical person may say that it's just coincidence, but she consistently smiles or frowns for the same songs. Another little boy, Istvan, is really having a rough go. He's in the hospital due to a nasty cough. (Keep in mind that all the babies in Vera's room are abandoned.) When I first met Istvan, he would smile and look around.... he really loved it when we walked up to the glass and he could look into the next room. But today, his cough was much worse and he's struggling more to breath. After he has a bought of coughing he just lays there and pants, absolutely exhausted from trying to get enough oxygen, with his poor little face all red. His skin is very pale and I noticed today that he has a odd, unhealthy smell. He absolutely loves to be held though. He seems happiest when I hold him and he can look up at my face when I'm talking. Eating is very hard for him because he can hardly get enough air in without a bottle in his mouth, let alone with one. Please keep him (and all the babies) in your prayers.

Today I met with Vera's daughter-in-law, who is an American. She gave me some help in starting to learn Romanian and we chatted for quite some time. She walked me to the tram station and I got on what I thought was my tram. So I'm thinking over everything she had said and the tram is clacking along... then it turns off onto a different track and heads down a street I've never seen before. I was on the wrong tram! I got to ride through a strange part of the city, just praying we would pass something I recognized. Finally we did, and I hopped off and walked home. I gotta say, trams and I just don't see eye to eye. But, since I can't walk everywhere and the thought of driving here terrifies me, I shall just have to endure.