The Story of an Abandoned Baby (Part One)
This is the story of a male infant, only two days old. With delicate features and a red hue still present on his skin, he was abandoned by his parents in a roadside bush due to having only two fingers on each hand and underdeveloped feet. Fortunately, he was found by a kind-hearted person who brought him to Yuan Lihai, a place that takes care of abandoned babies. Though not wealthy herself, Yuan Lihai has taken in dozens of children in her humble shack. The ages of these children range from two days to twenty years old, all kinds of disabilities represented among them. Some have snow-white hair, others suffer from cerebral palsy and are bedridden, some have heads covered in oozing sores, others crawl on the ground unable to walk, and there are also deaf and mute children. In fact, every type of disability one could imagine is present here, including even healthy children.
Yuan's shack is dilapidated and dark, filled with donated clothes. Due to the cramped space, regardless of age, several children share each bed. Among these, especially the newborns, many were once delivered without any apparent issues but now most are disabled. Some are blind, others suffer from heart or other diseases; minor cases include cleft lips while severe ones are terminal illnesses. Standing in this dark and low-ceilinged shack, I see the newly arrived baby boy crying loudly, helplessly waving his tiny fists about the size of a garlic clove, turning his head around searching for his mother’s nipple. Failing to find it, he begins sucking his own little fist, then cries again. Watching him wave his limbs helplessly, weak and pitifully crying, I cannot comprehend how his parents, who are human too, could bear to abandon him. He is so small, no bigger than an adult's shoe. Although he has a nose, eyes, and a mouth, he lacks awareness. He doesn't know that he will never find the nipple again. His mother, the woman who gave birth to him and granted him life, has already abandoned him. He himself does not know how fragile and tender he is, so delicate that a mere gust of wind could take his life, and so vulnerable that even slight neglect could lead to his death. He doesn't know that at just two days old, he has been left out in the wilderness like a blade of grass—or rather, less than a blade of grass, because for a newborn, abandonment means death. He is so unfortunate to be abandoned, yet so fortunate to be discovered and sent to Sister Yuan's place. He doesn't know that this place is a paradise for disabled children, their main base. Here, there is no discrimination, no abandonment. Sister Yuan will treat him like her own child. Despite the overwhelming number of children here, making it look like a hell on earth, there is love and family here, and these two things are enough.
When I first came here, I couldn't help but burst into tears, crying for the numerous abandoned babies—those either missing hands or feet, covered in sores, suffering from cerebral palsy or cleft lips. I cried even more for the parents of these abandoned babies, who, despite being human themselves, did inhumane things. Seeing the appearance of these troubled children breaks one's heart. Children, the most heart-wrenching word in this world, the most adorable little beings, God's angels, earthly treasures, capable of bringing endless joy, light, and hope, inspiring boundless love, are given the best words humanity can offer: treasure, baby, sweetie, etc. But here, what you see is not hope, not beauty, not happiness, but endless sorrow, pain, and torment. Because these children may be a lifelong burden and debt, possibly the root cause of poverty and unhappiness for their entire lives. That's why their parents abandoned them, perhaps out of despair because they couldn't afford treatment, or due to poverty leaving them unable to pay for medical care.
People don't realize that the survival rate of such young infants, especially those newly abandoned, is very low. They are usually left in the wild. While spring might be tolerable, summer and winter can be cruelly harsh for such fragile lives. According to Sister Yuan, during winter, some children are brought in covered in snow, and during summer, some are covered in flies. Those who survive have strong fates, as conditions here aren't ideal—a large shack that leaks rain, with too few caretakers for too many children. In winter, to prevent children from kicking off their blankets and catching colds, bricks are used to hold down the edges. Though plenty of clothes are donated, money is scarce, and she has no funds to seek medical treatment for the children, even though a hospital is right next door—a luxurious one resembling a hotel. However, "if you can't pay, don't come in." Because of its proximity, this hospital sees more abandoned babies, many of whom are discarded after diagnosis due to exorbitant medical fees. Despite being separated by only a wall, one side resembles heaven, the other hell. Yet, this isn't the fault of the hospital staff, as inability to afford healthcare is a nationwide issue—a systemic problem, not an individual one. It's just that Lancao is poorer, making these problems more pronounced. Even though some hospital staff complain that Sister Yuan's presence tarnishes their image and want her gone, many others are supportive and helpful. Selfishness and selflessness, cruelty and kindness, always coexist and struggle against each other, even within Lancao Hospital.
Although the current state of national healthcare reform remains unsatisfactory, and the difficulty in accessing medical care persists, it's encouraging that while major illnesses remain untreated, cleft lip surgeries, for example, are now free in many places. Several children from Sister Yuan's place have received free treatment at hospitals in Zhengzhou. Although the social impact isn't significant, the symbolic value is enormous—it shows that not all medical institutions are driven solely by profit; they still possess conscience. Not all doctors wield knives to exploit, some use them to save lives. Recently, I heard that heart disease can also be treated for free. I let out a long sigh, hoping that the pace of national healthcare reform quickens, allowing hospitals everywhere to stop resembling luxurious hotels and lowering medication costs, enabling everyone to access medical care when needed, and ensuring that patients die in hospitals instead of waiting at home. More importantly, I hope that knowledge of prenatal care and contraception spreads like sunlight to all rural areas and remote regions, as well as to those planning to marry. Of course, I hope most earnestly that healthcare coverage prioritizes the group most in need—children and infants.