Wednesday, April 16, 2014
"Papa!" "Papa!" The little blonde haired girl ran to my husband. Her nanny quickly chased after her but not fast enough. The little girl made it to my husband lightening fast, despite her awkward underdeveloped legs and her FAS. She made it to her "Papa"! Marty scooped her up and the nanny walked back to the groupa realizing Marty was ok and was bringing her back to the group. I watched as my husband gently rubbed the little girls back and squeezed her in a gentle hug. Her face was lit up with the biggest smile. The other children in her groupa had all stopped what they were doing to stare. My husband walked slower then I had ever seen him walk. He smiled reassuringly at the nanny and placed her on the steel carousel with some of the other children. It didn't take long for the little girl to break away and try running back but the nanny was not going to let her get away again and scolded her firmly in Russian. I had thought over the first few days the children were staring at "us". They were not. They were staring at "PaPa".
On another visit... We had just returned the boys to their rooms and were standing at the top of the stairwell, when we saw a slightly older groupa climbing the stairwell across from us. We watched them through the glass wall as 10 children and 2 nannys made there way slowly up the stairwell. They appeared to be 4-5 year olds. One little boy saw "Papa" through the glass and broke away from the nannys instinctively yelling "Papa!" He managed to push open the door that separated us before a nanny snatched him up by the arm scolding him firmly in Russian. He twisted his body backwards to smile at us as she dragged him up the stairs. As they reached the top of the stairs he attempted once more to break away and wave to us, she shoved him by the back of the head into the room. He was such a little troublemaker! I loved his bravery and his defiance.
Throughout our visits we would have similar encounters and hear children cry out Papa. One little boy always yelled "Daddy". I'm not sure why he used this word when the others used Papa. As I watched Marty's gentleness, playfulness, and love for our boys and the other children. I began to see him in a way I never had before. I watched as Edgar rubbed his furry beard, and played with his sunglasses and cell phone. I thought about how strong Marty must seem to them with his big hands and deep voice. How Marty laughed when Edgar wrestled to hard and kicked him in the face. I marveled at the way the other children adored him like a celebrity or Santa! A Papa! A Daddy! All these children long for is a father. Eventually my boys will see me as more then just a nice nanny, caretaker, maid...... they will feel the love I have for them and know what it is to have a "real" Mama. But if they never do, I will give them the greatest gift they will ever receive, a Papa.
Where are you men of courage? Are you willing to defy the status quo? Break away from your groupa? Scoop up a tiny orphan child and give them a Papa?
Bringing Home Dunham and Edgar Donations LINK