Three P's In A Pod

When I first held Prince, I couldn't stop staring at his peeling skin and withered legs and the web of raised lines on his back that betrayed the presence of parasitic worms. I have never seen a baby look so thoroughly, genuinely hopeless. Not just his physical condition, but his expression. It was disturbing- eight months old and his eyes told me he didn't think there was much left worth living for. My heart ached. All I could think was, "Oh God, no. Not again. I can't lose another kid. Please God, don't let him die." I was terrified of the day I would walk into Good Shepherd and learn I had to go to another child's funeral.

But each day he got a little stronger,

cried a little less,

weighed a little more.

If you're looking for the miserable, half-starved baby that showed up in November, you won't find him at Good Shepherd.

Meet Prince 2.0 the chubby-cheeked, thunder-thighed charmer whose constant smile is already knocking the ladies dead. His transformation is nothing short of a miracle.

Literally overnight, Esther (the orphanage social worker and one of my closest friends) became the mother of triplets and I saw the toll it took on her. She was visibly exhausted, haggard. But never have any babies been more fiercely or lovingly cared for. It was textbook Esther, pouring herself out for the sake of her children.

Princess, once silent, has finally found her voice and uses it incessantly.
Mawuto- recently renamed Philip to complete the P trilogy- is starting to crawl. Well, sort of...His legs haven't quite made it into the equation yet, but he's getting there. He's mobile in any case :)

Sometimes the greateast blessings come in the smallest packages.



Me and Philip



Princess





Philip