Deimar soon earned the reputation of being my "little vampire," a name he earned for himself one day by chomping down hard on the back of my leg one October day in retaliation to my efforts to lure him away from a pile of building materials. He left a lovely, gigantic bruise the exact size and shape of a toddler's jaw right below my knee.
Deimar gave the best hugs... he had a really cute way of hugging me around the legs and leaning his little head into my legs. Like any little guy, he had an absolute fascination for the garbage, the bathroom, the sink, and pretty much anywhere else he knew he wasn't supposed to be. He was the kind of kid who would hit another child and then, after being disciplined, reach over to hit them again, all the while his little black eyes fixed on me mischievously as if to say, "Hey! Look what I'm doing! Exactly what you told me not to! What're you going to do about it?" Many times I've had to yell at other kids to get off of the table, only to have Deimar hop right up and dance around on it too, laughing with glee.
He loved shoes, especially girls' shoes. And little toy horses. And putting clothes on dolls.
More than once, Deimar's scared me by falling headfirst off of something. Once, during Joe's visit, he fell smack on top of his head onto the hard floor. Another time he tumbled off the swing and hit the spot right between his eyes. And there was one day he gave me a good scare by jumping on the stairs, slipping, and then falling down 3 or 4 stairs. But no matter how hard he cried, or how badly he'd hurt himself, or how much he'd scared me (!), Deimar would hop right back up again and try it again, whether it be the swing or jumping off the bed, etc.
Once Deimar had a really high, 102 degree fever. I was entrusted with the task of bathing him in lukewarm water for 10 minutes to bring his fever down. Deimar was happy as a clam. He swished around like a little fish in the water, cooing and screaming with delight, splashing water right and left. I told him he was swimming in the rain, and he was tickled pink. It worked... his fever went down, and within a day or two he was back to normal.
One day in December, I went upstairs to wake up Deimar for dinner, thinking he'd overslept his nap. I found his bed empty and immediately went to find Sandra, feeling slightly panicked. She told me Deimar had gone home with his parents, and that she hadn't had a chance to say goodbye either. I tried to be happy for little Deimar, but I couldn't help but feel worried. When Deimar came to the Hogar, all he ate was rice. He was going on four years old but only looked a year and a half. Would Deimar's parents know how to take care of him? Would Deimar's mommy know how to blow on his soup for him when it was hot? Would he give her hugs around the legs too?
I found out later that Deimar had been adopted by a local Bolivian family.
Three days later, I was just coming out of the volunteer kitchen when some of my Santa Maria munchkins came running up to me. "Antonieta, Antonieta! Deimar's back! His parents brought him a toy!" The surge of hope I felt was immediately quelled by feelings of dread and unease. I rushed into Santa Maria only to find my suspicions confirmed. Sure enough, there was Deimar, looking bewildered, mobbed by 17 other children. I hardly recognized him, even though only such a short bit of time had passed. His head had been shaved, his stomach was swelled up and bloated from overfeeding. He was clutching an inflatable neon-green space toy, wearing new clothes. There was an animal look in his eye, one of desperation and panic. He showed no sign that he recognized me.
Deimar had been returned by his adoptive parents for biting his father.
I was filled with rage. Who could be so immature? Who would ever return a toddler for biting? A toddler from an orphanage, with a troubled background, for crying out loud? I was glad though, that they returned him. He deserved better.
Gradually my fears about Deimar's difficulties adjusting to life at the Hogar abated. He ran up calling my name the very next day, and allowed me to give him a good night kiss. Soon Deimar was back to normal.
The biting continued, however. One day in February it got brought up in a staff meeting with the Madre Rosario. We explained Deimar's behavior to her, and her reaction surprised me. She decided to make a call to a nearby Hogar, Hogar Fatima, to see if there was any opening for him. I locked myself in the bathroom afterwards and sobbed. I had thought the hogar was precisely for these sorts of children. It broke my heart to think of Deimar going to an assembly-line hogar, with babies lined up against the wall and sleeping on the floor, because they'd run out of beds for them... No one had suggested that someone take him under their wing, work with him a little more intensely, etc. They had given up on my little boy. For something as trivial as biting. And that hurt.
I decided to draw out my feelings that night. I started with my original image, one of a little Deimar floating in a giant teardrop. I surprised myself as the drawing began to evolve. Eventually there were two little ones in the giant teardrop; Deimar, clutching a teddy bear, and the Child Jesus, waving and sitting right beside him. The giant teardrop was coming out of my eye. I stood in the background holding my heart in my hand, which was one and the same with the Immaculate Heart of Mary. And in the teardrop, the little Child Jesus spoke in Spanish: "My Daughter, I will take care of Deimar."
Although the drawing made me feel a little bit better, it didn't stop me from feeling slightly panicked whenever I heard Hogar Fatima mentioned, or worrying that he'd be sent there. I prayed they wouldn't have any room for him.
But God made good on his promise. Toward the end of March, Deimar was called to the office. An older Bolivian couple was there waiting for him. They seemed quiet, gentle, soft-spoken. Over the next 5 days, they came to see him repeatedly. They took him out for short trips and spent hours with him wandering the Hogar property or hanging out in Santa Maria with him and the other little ones. They brought fruit for the other munchkins. I was able to give them Deimar's art collection, of which they seemed very appreciative, and learned that the husband had been referred to Hogar Sagrado Corazon by a friend who'd adopted a set of siblings from here.
Today, April 15th, was a bittersweet day. Deimar helped Natalie sort some Easter eggs in the library, and made an Easter card for his madrina. He colored a coloring page (sort of!) and helped me pick up the crayons. I took him back to Santa Maria, changed his diaper, and sat him down to lunch. During lunch, Beti the doorkeeper came to take him to his parents. I was able to take a few quick photos with him before she brought him out to the gazebo to join his parents. Teresa and I followed him. Deimar's parents had brought him some fresh peaches, which they were in the process of showing him. I wished them a good morning and congratulated them, then took Teresa's hand and started walking slowly back to Santa Maria. I looked back one more time, knowing I might not see him again. Even though I was going back to 16 other children, and holding the hand of the seventeenth, the sadness was still there. No matter how many kids you have, none of them can ever be replaced.
I will miss Deimar very much. But I am excited he has a new start in life and that his story here has a much happier ending then I would have ever imagined. Child Jesus was right. He did take care of Deimar. And now Deimar has a home and a family.
Deimar as Baby Jesus in the Hogar Christmas play.
Deimar gets his present from Papa Noel.
Deimar being his cute little self.
My artwork
Deimar at Carnaval
Saying goodbye
