It was eight years ago that I found myself lying on a hospital bed, reeling with the shock of being told that yet another pregnancy had ended just weeks after it had begun.

‘Come back next week,’ the sonographer told me. ‘We’ll scan again to make sure everything is clear.’

It seemed such a clinical, matter-of-fact end to a pregnancy which to me was a child with a name and a future.

It would have been miscarriage number seven for us and the grief was palpable. Broken-hearted and grief stricken, I returned home to deal with my every day life with the seven children I then had as I waited for the following week’s appointment. The one where I had to return to check that ‘everything was clear’. You know, as in ensuring there was never a trace of the baby I lost. Like this soul never existed or mattered. Except that it did – to me at least.

I was devastated and slept poorly. I had a dream concerning one of my children that so upset me that I couldn’t go back to sleep again that night. That and the events of the week led me to thinking about children who were fortunate enough to be born, yet for one reason or another could be forgiven for feeling as though they didn’t exist nor matter – not unlike the baby I was told I miscarried.

Having a large family, we often see comments directed at us such as ‘why don’t they just adopt?’ Easier said than done, whilst adoption is not something that everyone can do, be the reasons practical, financial or otherwise, child sponsorship is something anyone – almost everyone – can certainly do. That week, in remembrance of the baby we lost, we decided to sponsor a child. The charity was World Vision and the boy’s name was Hilario. He was two-years-old and his birthday was June 3rd. By the end of the week we also decided to sponsor a second child. This time it was a girl, Opisia Doreen in Uganda who we decided to sponsor through Compassion UK. We still sponsor them both as well as another two children, Wajeeda (through Plan) and Richecarde, once again through Compassion UK.

It’s simple to do.

It’s doesn’t require a great deal of time.

It isn’t expensive.

But it changes lives.

£25 is all it takes to provide a child with meals, emotional support, education and medical attention – all the things our own children take for granted. Poverty is a killer for children like Opisia whose life is so far removed from our own that we cannot even begin to comprehend how much we take for granted in comparison. We are fortunate to live in a country where we don’t need to worry about food, unemployment, healthcare or education. We turn on a tap for clean drinking water and complain about nobody changing a toilet roll when it runs out. Just last week I was muttering under my breath at the lack of space in my freezer for all the food I had to put in it. First world problems? I’ll say.

Over the years we have exchanged many letters with our sponsored children. Early last year we received a very sad letter indeed from her, informing us that her father had died in an accident. Her mother had never been mentioned so we presume she had died early on during Opisia’s life. Her father and grandmother are all she had until tragedy hit. Her grandmother is already very sick with heart problems. Her already hard life is made even more difficult with the cards that have been dealt for her. A year younger than Caitlin, we cannot imagine the challenges Opisia has already faced in her young years. Yet always, always does she let us know how grateful she is to us and how much she loves us.


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