Tonight I went into Léo's bedroom to check his room temperature. Both his feet were dangling from the crib. He's so tall. I am amazed about new things he does or says everyday (today, going down stairs without support and, ahem, saying "Bama" when I ask him to say Obama!).
Maybe it's because of the nature of my job or because of the way my parents raised me, but I am aware more and more that Léo is a lucky baby. He's born in the "West" to parents who have a sound relationship, money in the bank, jobs, a modern apartment, and who wanted him to be conceived and born. I often joke that I had to step away from his crib a few times when he was crying during the night as a baby (15 months old are still babies, right?) but I also know that I was well enough mentally to not break down, that my only stress was lack of sleep (not compounded by lack of food, money, housing, etc). In one word, he is growing up in a safe and loving environment. Somehow I think that is enough for a child to survive and thrive. Safety and love. That is not all that it takes to make a child grow healthy, but that's definitely a good beginning.
One of my best friends just traveled to Rwanda for work. While she was there she visited the genocide memorial and took a picture that still haunts me -a room full of pictures and stories of children, some just infants, who were killed during the genocide. Right now I am reading a lot about the genocide in Cambodia for work and it just tears me apart to read that children were taken away from their parents to be raised by Angka -the government.
One day Joe and I were taking turn chasing and holding Léo (when we chase him one parent runs to him and the other is his "safety" person, the one he runs to, laughing, to be picked up). As he and I were hiding in the closet waiting for Joe, Léo started laughing out loud. At that moment, I thought "Thank God we're not a situation where the difference between life and death depends on the silence of a child who doesn't understand what is going on." I know... not the best thoughts to have when you're playing with your baby. Still. I am so so thankful Léo will (most likely. Please God let it be never) not be in a situation where he could die because of political games. He will not be in a situation where he doubts our love, where he faces emotional or physical abuse. Again, most of it is luck (good political conditions on one hand, and luck of being a wealthy westerner on the other), but part of it is also Joe and my will to make his life a haven of love, laughter, and stability. And I'm proud we're able to provide that for him right now. We will always be his advocate, we'll always put his well being first, and we'll always ensure that his life is the best it can be. So there we have it: safety and love. For my baby, safety and love, always.
1 comment:
Oh Lord, this hits close. I cry for all of those parents who want safety for their children, but can only provide them with love. And sometimes Love is not enough. What do we *do* with this privilege of ours. This Western, wealthy privilege that a life of plenty affords us? For me, it often takes a trip to a place where women work unjustly hard, and children don't have enough, to knock some sense into me. We are living a life of unnecessary abundance--we are the 1%. What am I going to do about it? Stay tuned, cuz I don't know. Love you.
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