The headlines in Nashville last night and today are all about a 17 month old baby boy, brought to the hospital dead, weighing only 10 lbs. They said he died from malnourishment and hypothermia, the power had been off in his apartment for a couple of weeks. His 31 month old sister is being treated for the same diagnoses and should recover - right now she is in DCS custody.
The father is in jail, the mother, whom did not have custody, but had visited just last week is not, yet. I hope she is arrested too - there is no way a 10 lb 17 month old could be deemed right in anybody's opinion.
I feel very bad about this - too bad to even cry. I remember my babies at 17 months - both of them were bubbly, laughing, running everywhere, trying to talk, playing with their toys and each other, keeping me busy but being just pure joys. I wonder if this child could even walk because of his low weight and other problems that had to be there from the malnourishment? Did he ever smile? I can imagine the hollow look his eyes must have held.
If his parents didn't feed him or be sure he was in a warm environment, did they hold him and nuzzle him? Did he know he was loved? Was he even loved?
I am reminded of a song Pat Benatar did several years ago - the last line of the chorus says "And you shouldn't have to pay for your love with your bones and your flesh". This little fellow paid with his whole life.
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