Why Leaving Romania Broke My Heart

I met Costica on one of my first days at the orphanage. He was an adorably sweet little boy. When I'd come into the room he would run straight to me. He loved to have me sit on the floor while he stood behind me and played with my hair. He also loved when I would hold him up to look out the window and we'd point out all the cars we could see. When I'd leave the orphanage for the day, he would always blow me kisses and say, "Pa pa! Ne vedem maine!" ("Bye bye! See you tomorrow!")

Costica and I

A couple days or weeks before we left Romania that first summer, I walked into the children's hospital to find that Costica had been admitted. He was very scared to be in an unknown place and was crying when I found him. I quickly took him out of his crib and held him to calm him down. I spent all of my time with Costica during those days he spent in the hospital. If I put him back in his crib he would cry and cry. This was unusual for the children we usually worked with in the hospital. They were so used to being left in their cribs for hours, even days. No one came to hold them or play with them. Since no one would answer when they'd cry, they learned there was no point to it. This left the halls of the hospital eerily silent. When a child would learn to cry again, we saw it as a sign of progression and emotional health. This meant they had actually developed an expectation or trust that someone would come to their aid.

Though it was painful to hear Costica cry, I was happy that he had the emotional well-being to express himself and to develop an attachment to me.

He wasn't the only one--I felt like he had become my own child.
I've told a lot of people that leaving Romania that first summer was the most difficult day of my life. Saying goodbye to Costica was one of the biggest reasons for that.

He had returned to the orphanage (we still don't know why he was in the hospital), but was staying in the "quarantine" area (all children spent a few days there after returning from the hospital, as a precautionary measure). He was still scared since this was also an unfamiliar place, with unfamiliar orphanage workers. The workers told me he was constantly crying and they couldn't find any way to soothe him. I went into the room and pulled him from his crib and quickly calmed him down. I held him for as long as I could and lamented the fact that I couldn't just put him in my backpack and smuggle him home.

Knowing that we had to leave the orphanage by a certain time, I tearfully gave Costica one last hug and kiss and had to put him back in his crib. As expected, the moment I put him down, he burst into tears and began reaching for me through the bars. I have no idea how I turned around and walked away from him, both of us sobbing. My heart broke.

When I returned to Romania with Brooke the following summer, we went back to the orphanage and found Costica. He had grown a bit since the year before and seemed to know a few more words. I'm not sure how much he recognized me, but he quickly returned to his routine of playing with my hair and looking out the window for cars. He blew me kisses and said the usual, "ne vedem maine!" when I left for the day.

When Jed and I visited Romania in 2006, we discovered that the orphanage had closed. In a new attempt to take care of it's children, the Romanian government had arranged to have as many orphans as possible placed with foster families. While I was sad I wouldn't see Costica again, this gave me hope that he might spend the rest of his growing up years with a caring, Romanian family. I pray that this is the case.

On Friday, Jed and I are returning, yet again, to Romania. We can't wait to track down some of the kids I worked with there and see how they're doing. We're especially excited to visit Rebeca and the children she has taken into her home. If you'd like to make a donation to help Rebeca care for these kids, click on the PayPal link in the upper right corner of my blog. If want to know more about what Rebeca does, see this previous post.