Once Discarded, Now Loved

Trying to be well-informed, we each follow the flood of news rushing at us every day. In the privacy of our minds we cheer and jeer, we marvel and lament at the grandiose and pathetic panoply of human doings unfolding before us. Then we go about our own business. Every once in a while, though, some little thing--in this case a very little thing--makes us pause to ponder publicly.

Such was the contents of a battered department store shopping bag found by a curious nurse the other day in a Canoga Park hospital parking lot. It was a seven-pound newborn boy. The nameless fellow had spent most of his first day whimpering there--nobody cooing, no one taking photos, no one vying to hold him next. He would have died there within hours. He’s now eating heartily, however, surrounded by cozy blankets and attentive teddy bears, oblivious to the lengthening line of adults earnestly seeking to take him into their lives. A discarded shopping receipt, also in the bag, led police to arrest a 26-year-old mother.

We’re unprepared to let this go right now. Let’s be honest: It’s difficult to fathom a mind, even a desperate, frightened one, that could contemplate and execute such a likely lethal act against someone so utterly helpless. It happens hundreds of times a year in our country, at least two dozen times in California. Last month a Monrovia teenager dropped her newborn into a dumpster. He was found and will survive. No one knows those who don’t.

Society has done much to prevent these tragic abandonments. Thirty-five states have safe haven laws, allowing delivery of newborns (and surrender of parental rights) at hospitals with, in effect, no questions asked. Many states like California, however, have yet to invest in getting the word out. Public and private agencies must improve awareness and continue a welcome expansion of birth control information. Governments should also continue modernizing adoption laws. From all evidence, the love and generosity of would-be adoptive parents are bountiful. Judging by the story of Moses, many abandonments and adoptions have had positive outcomes throughout history.

Parenting is often menial, often rewarding and, yes, often tough duty. There’s no licensing required. Most of us learn as we go--and from the parents we had. And there are no guarantees, as the parents of American Talib John Walker Lindh have learned.

Despite our national instinct for resolution by a date certain, we must patiently accept that this effort to protect the helpless--like many social struggles--is not a war with a victory day but an endless process. While our civilized society must do all it can to reduce this unacceptable phenomenon in California and beyond, it must also celebrate those who step forward to combat abandonments in all forms and to cuddle their victims. When you think about it, these good hearts far outnumber the others.