I was catching up on my feeds, and came upon an entry by Dooce.  In it, she introduces a news story about a feral child.  A feral child due to neglect…  awful, awful, basic neglect.  7 years old and couldn’t speak.  Roach bites.  Only could suck a bottle.  Diapers, just stacked around.  Mattress on the floor.  Covered in insects, mites, lice, and the like.

I read the whole article:  The Girl in the Window.  Then I saw the videos/pictures/interviews.

It has effected me.  Deeply.  I hurt for this little girl so very much.  I had to go to the restroom at work because I was crying.  A child not knowing that a hug is comfort?  A 7 year old, without a medical issue (other than neglect) who sucks from a bottle and doesn’t know how to chew food?  One who doesn’t cry or flinch in pain for IV’s?

How much pain has this child had?

There’s nothing I can do.  The child has adoptive parents now who are doing everything possible for her.  But I hurt.  So, I had to write about it.

By the way, the mother criminal gave up her parental rights as a plea to avoid the 20 year sentence.  And she thinks she’s been wronged.

I know that I complain that I’m a bad mother.  And yes – I definitely get lazy about certain things.  I look at stories such as this, and think, thank God my bar is set so high.

I realize that the situation is done.  I realize there’s nothing I can do.  I know all that can be done IS being done.  But I can’t help, as a mother, to picture my own child in that situation.  And that’s when I cried.