Henry, Mi Amor

Well, it's happened: I've fallen deeply in love. His name is Henry.

At three years old, Henry's eyes are filled with a heavy understanding and lots of mischief.

According to Henry's mother, Henry was born with no tongue and a cleft palate. His mother prayed and prayed for Henry to get a tongue. Three months later, she says, Jesus answered her call and Henry got his tongue.

I ask our pediatrician, Dr. David Fenner, about tongues and Jesus. Dr. Fenner says that Henry probably had a tight frenulum (that fold of membrane that attaches the tongue to the floor of the mouth) and eventually grew out of it. But it might have been the work of Jesus. The more I see, the less I know for sure.

Last year, Henry's cleft palate was operated on. Children here often receive operations in less than optimal conditions. If the surgeries are not done very carefully, the palates can re-open.

At some point, Henry's palate re-opened and has a large hole. This hole gives Henry a speech impediment, earaches, and affects his hearing. When he has a cold, he has trouble breathing.
Henry's father works part-time as a woodcutter, and his mother works as a maid.

Henry and his mother travel six hours to be here...part of the time by canoe. For three days, Henry and his momma live on the sixth floor while waiting for his surgery. The sixth floor is an unused, downtrodden area that the hospital lends to us in order to house the children before and after their operations.










Henry's operation is scheduled for 3 o'clock. Usually filled with great spunk, by 2 o'clock Henry is barely moving because he hasn't eaten due to upcoming anesthesia.

You're getting sleepy...........Sleepier.........I go get Dr. Fenner









Henry becomes so dehydrated the doctors and nurses give him an IV before operating. Everyone else begins to fall in love with him, but I make sure to let them know he is mine.
















I follow Mi Amor's palate surgery very carefully. Thank god Dr. Abraham knows his stuff.


















In a few hours, Henry is asleep in the recovery room and I leave for the night.









First thing in the morning, I visit Henry on the sixth floor. I find him sitting on a little plastic chair outside the bathroom his mother is cleaning....the toilets have leaked and the floor is covered in water and urine. My boy is still very groggy from his surgery and flashes me those pensive eyes.....sigh.


Ah, Henry, how will I leave this place without you? You won't remember me, but I cannot forget you.