Angel of Mercy

I thanked Sarah as I hung up the phone and grabbed my briefcase while assuring the head of the children’s ward that I was on my way to the hospital. Sometimes this profession was more than any human should have to endure. No matter how many times you see the abuse and neglect of innocent children; it still has an effect on you.

This phone call concerned Angel. The ambulance had just brought her to Baptist Children’s Hospital again. Sarah knew how upset I’d be. She also warned me that it was different this time. They weren’t sure they could save her. God, help me! This child deserves so much more. My department was so sure we had found her a home with loving parents, unlike the many times before. Unfortunately, her destiny was obviously that of bad luck. I swore to myself that it would be different as I hurried out the door.

Angel had been in the Child Protective Services system for nearly 18 months. Her sparkling blue eyes and genuine smile stole the hearts of all who came in contact with her. My first encounter with the child, I soon referred to as Angel, came when Sarah contacted me about a small child found in the local dumpster barely alive and needing my services. The nurses swore that she had a halo that you could see when she smiled.

We would find out later that her mother was a young girl with a Marine husband stationed overseas. Her adulterous affairs eventually caught up with her and she had to make a decision. She confided in her mother who knew her daughter’s life would be ruined. People did not accept these kinds of things in 1952. The dumpster seemed a logical choice for someone trying to hide the truth from those that would judge. They would ultimately be apprehended by the local authorities and sentenced to 20 years in a correctional facility.

At first placing Angel seemed to be an easy task as everyone wanted a baby. The background checks were completed and the tiny girl was released to a young couple. Wendy and Jim beamed as they picked her up from the children’s ward. Wendy was unable to have children and assured each of us that Angel was a blessing. They decided that Angel was a befitting name and continued to refer to her as that. Something didn’t seem right but I dismissed it as my being overtired and too attached to Angel. My intuition would prove correct.

Within 3 months I received a call from a neighbor of Jim and Wendy. She wanted to remain anonymous but felt that we should know what was going on. It seems Jim and Wendy fought all the time. Angel was being neglected. The neighbor had seen her left alone for hours at a time. She was so sure of her accusations that I decided to investigate. Before I could finish my required calls to do a site visit, I received the second call from Sarah. Our little Angel was back in her care. She had cigarette burns on her arms, a cut above her eye and looked to be undernourished. Wendy was being admitted to a psychiatric ward after telling the authorities that she didn’t want or need a child. She did it all for her husband.

Wendy and Jim went on to tell horrid stories including leaving that tiny baby alone for hours at a time. They would force her to sit up straight when she was barely old enough. If she didn't do it, she was beat with a leather belt. She was rarely fed and Wendy even admitted to trying to starve her. Jim knew something was wrong with his wife but believed that having a baby would alleviate her self destruction over not being able to have children of her own. It took having Angel picked up by an ambulance to make Jim realize that his wife was a sick woman.

Angel continued to be placed in unacceptable surroundings. She always ended up back in the hospital with broken limbs, unexplained bruising and obvious under nourishment. Food would be withheld as punishment. Husbands would be jealous of the baby when they didn’t receive enough attention from the wives. The world had gone crazy with the birth of Elvis music and the onset of polio. Children living in these unhealthy conditions were dying in multitudes. Poor Angel didn’t even have the food or love that a normal child would have much less that of one dumped out like last night’s garbage.

Each time I tried harder to place her with someone who would love and care for her, the worse the nightmare would be the next time. We did have one family who had the decency to just bring her back because she cried with colic. They determined she must be a sickly child. They didn’t abuse her, they just didn’t want a child that would cry or be sick. The last call came from Sarah brought more than tears and compassion. This time would be different and this time I meant it. I placed the adoption papers in my briefcase and headed out the door.

Angel was pale and unresponsive. The doctors were doing a lot of tests to determine the amount, if any, of brain damage she had sustained. I called my boss and took a few days off. I sat by Angel’s bed every day and every night for weeks. My prayers were finally answered as she slowly reentered the world. God did hear me. The tests were negative for any permanent damage. She was growth deprived and smaller than most her age. When Angel was released, she went home with me. She would never be abused again.

This new responsibility began a new life for me and Angel. She became my angel of mercy. I quit my job with Child Services and pursued a passion for writing. Angel received all the love and nourishment she could ever want or need. She doesn’t remember the bad times, but I do. The only scars she has from those days are the tears I shed when she isn’t looking. The ones that flow when I remember all the horrible things a child should never have to experience.