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.
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