Emily, a junior doctor in the paediatric ward of St.Albans Hospital, watched a young woman sit on the edge of a hospital bed, legs pulled up and voice trembling with anger.
Youre useless to me, the woman spat. I dont want him. I only want Andrew, and he said he doesnt want a child. So I dont want mine either. Do whatever you like with him I couldnt care less.
The ward matron, Margaret, tried to calm her. Sweetheart, abandoning your own child is barbaric. Even animals dont do that.
The woman snapped back, I dont care what animals do. Discharge me now or Ill make a scene youll remember.
Margaret sighed, Youre a foolish girl, God help you. Her experience told her that medicine could not fix this stubbornness.
A week earlier the newborn had been moved from the maternity suite to the childrens ward. The mother, a volatile and quarrelsome young woman, had flatly refused to breastfeed, no matter how gently she was urged. She would only agree to express milk, but then she had nowhere to go.
Emily, the babys attending physician, fought a losing battle. The mother threw endless tantrums, claiming it was unsafe for the infant and that she would run away if she was forced. When Emily called Margaret for help, the matron spent a harried hour pleading with the irrational mother, who kept insisting she needed to be with her boyfriend, who would leave her if she didnt travel south with him.
Margaret, who had seen countless similar cases over her long career, decided she could keep the baby for a few more days, hoping the mother might change her mind. The news of a threeday limit enraged the woman.
Are you mad? Andrew is already angry about this damned baby, and now youre threatening me. If I dont go south with him, hell take Katie, she sobbed, accusing everyone of conspiring against her. She only wanted the child as a bargaining chip to force a marriage.
Margaret ordered a dose of valerian and headed for the door, followed by the quiet registrar. In the corridor she stopped and whispered, Do you really think a child will thrive with a mother like that?
The poor thing, Margaret replied, what else can we do? If we dont act, theyll send him to a childrens home and then an orphanage. Both families have respectable names; perhaps we can talk to the grandparents?
The mother fled that same day. Margaret phoned the boys parents, but the young mans family refused even to speak.
Two days later the father of the boy arrived a stern, unpleasant man. Margaret tried to persuade him to look at the child, but he shrugged it off. Im not interested. My daughter will file a refusal form and Ill have my driver deliver it, he snarled. Margaret insisted the mother herself must sign the discharge otherwise the paperwork would be invalid. The man bristled, then reluctantly said hed send his wife to sort it out.
The next day a petite, pallid woman arrived, sat on the edge of a chair and burst into tears, constantly muttering about a tragedy. She explained that the boys wealthy family had whisked him abroad, planning a bright future, while his mother now wept and screamed that she hated the child and would follow him overseas. She vowed to go after him, no matter how angry the world became.
Margaret, hoping to stir some feeling in the grandmother, invited her to hold the infant. The woman sobbed, clutching the tiny hand, calling the baby so sweet, Id love to take him home. Yet her husband forbade it and the daughter refused. The woman produced a fresh handkerchief and wailed harder.
Margaret merely muttered, Mmm, and instructed a nurse to give the woman another dose of valerian, grumbling that such drama would soon empty the wards supply of calming medicine.
She reported the situation to the chief paediatrician, Dr. Howard, who had once been a respected childrens doctor. Upon seeing the infant, Howard smiled broadly and asked what the baby was being fed. Hes a little puddy, he joked, the nickname sticking.
The boy, now called Puddy, stayed in the ward for months. Initially the mother visited sporadically, playing with him while claiming she was saving money for a ticket to find her boyfriend. She seemed to grow accustomed to the child, but each time she left she wept, apologising for her own selfishness. Margaret warned her that what she called love was nothing more than lust.
The mother and the grandmother kept coming, never filing the refusal, yet never taking the child home. Margaret finally sat them down, explaining that the baby had fallen ill and needed serious care. Everyone was on edge; Emily hovered over Puddy, who was sweating, his fine hairs clinging to his damp scalp.
He began losing weight, looking frail. Emily cradled him constantly, calling him a pancake now rather than a donut. Yet the boy rallied, regained his strength, and became the wards favourite. He loved the bright coral beads Emily wore, constantly reaching for them and giggling when she let him bite them. Both felt a deep joy in the simple game.
One day the mother learned that her boyfriend had married someone else. She erupted, screaming that everyone was conspiring to keep them apart, that she hated the baby, and that if the child were gone she could finally be with Andrew. In a fit of rage she filled out a refusal form, handed it to the chief, and stormed out.
The chief called Margaret in. Margaret, her face hardening, said, All right, the form is filed. Well move him to the baby home. What else can we do? The young registrar burst into tears. Margaret sat down, took off her glasses and rubbed them carefully, muttering to herself a sign she was nervous. She rarely let her emotions show, but today her hands trembled.
Meanwhile, Puddy squealed happily in his cot. A nurse entered, cooing to him; he responded with a delighted chirp, arms flailing. Suddenly he fell silent, stared at the ceiling, then a tear slipped from his eye. The nurse, puzzled, went to check on him and felt an odd ache in her chest, tears streaming down her cheeks. She later learned that his mother had just signed the refusal form. Margaret snapped that no one should make a fuss, that it was all nonsense.
Abandoned children often sense that they have been rejected, whether by a whisper of an angel or by a cold world. They try to become invisible, not to trouble anyone, as if the world will simply forget them. Whether hungry or warm, no one reads them a bedtime story or tucks them in. The indifferent world bestows gifts on some while taking everything from others. The helpless child spends years wondering why they were cast aside, what they did wrong.
There are no clear answers. The worlds indifference is random and cruel, but somewhere, a small speck of kindness still exists. Hold onto that hope, child, and keep believing.
From that day onward Puddy lay quietly in his cot, no longer playing, his smile gone, his eyes solemn. Emily tried to lift his spirits.
Puddy, would you like to be held? Look, Ive got beads for us to play with, she said, extending her hand. He stared at her, unmoving, and she sank back into tears.
Finally, Emily could bear it no longer and shouted, Were betraying him! First the cruel people, now us! He didnt ask to be born into this mess! She fell to the sofa, head in her hands, whimpering.
Margaret rose from her desk, sat beside Emily, and placed a hand on her shoulder. Sweetheart, I dont know what to do either. My heart aches for Puddy. What a terrible job this is, she said. But I wont sit idly by.
Emily snapped, Then stop sitting! Margaret replied, Act, then. Dont tell me youll adopt him theyll never let you. You live in a flat, you have no husband Ive seen countless Puddys in my career. Lets find him a proper family.
Emily threw herself into the search for adoptive parents, pouring her soul into the task. The hospital staff, moved by her dedication, rallied behind her. At last she found a couple, Laura and Leo, both in their thirties, childless, who had long dreamed of parenthood. Laura was gentle, with a soft smile and a lilting voice; Leo was sturdy, with a military bearing, clearly devoted to his wife. Their home was bright and welcoming.
Margaret arranged a visit, even flirting with Leo a little, then quickly apologising, Excuse my excitement, youre a handsome fellow. She asked, What was his birth weight, dear? Leo stumbled, Sorry, I dont recall does it matter? Laura laughed, Hell keep mum with his questions, wont he?
The couple entered the ward. Puddy slept, his tiny hands curled, a single tear glistening. He stirred, opened his eyes, and gazed at Laura. He hesitated, then grasped her fingertip with surprising strength. Everyone laughed at his feisty grip. Laura smiled, Hello, little one, and he let out a faint, hopeful squeak.
Margaret cleared her throat, Well wrap this up for now. You can think it over. Laura, without looking at Margaret, replied, Weve already decided. Margaret raised an eyebrow, Leo nodded, Yes, we want him.
Laura leaned down, whispered gently, Ill come back soon, I promise. Puddy, still clutching her finger, seemed to understand, then loosened his grip and beamed a tiny grin.
Margaret sighed, Well, thats it then. Lets get the paperwork sorted. The childs reflexes were strong, she noted, as Laura tried to pull her hand away, but Puddy held on.
Soon the adoption was finalised. Puddys first night in his new home, Laura sang him a lullaby, and his little fingers curled around her thumb. The boy, once abandoned, finally felt the warmth of a family that chose him.
The lesson that lingered in the ward was simple: love cannot be forced, but compassion, patience, and persistence can turn even the most forlorn circumstance into a hopeful new beginning.
