Before long, word came that the orphanage would soon send the baby. A few days later, we received word that the baby was on his way. But when the flight arrived, he was not aboard. Our hearts sank as a flight attendant informed us that the baby had taken a turn for the worse and the airlines would not allow him on board until he could be stabilized. So we waited. Then another flight was arranged; the baby would arrive at midnight. Again we waited. Finally the announcement came that the Korean jet had been delayed but would land at 1:40 A.M.

As the passengers stepped from the plane, the tension mounted. The last of the passengers walked past us. After what seemed like forever, an exhausted male nurse and attendant came forward carrying our new son. Tubes and medical equipment had just been detached from the tiny, expressionless baby. The attendant placed Nam Soo Kim into my waiting arms. Our reaction was a mixture of joy and pain. The baby’s large brown eyes were listless, and angry red sores and purplish welts covered his frail body. For a baby a few months old, he was pitifully small, with a large, distended stomach.

We took Nam Soo Kim to the doctor at 7:30 A.M. A closer examination revealed scars from cigarette burns on his arms, legs, and back. An ugly wound from the tortuous attempt to correct the birth defect had healed with bulging scar tissue and a raging infection inside his body. The physician was somber as he finished the examination. He sadly shook his head. “This baby needs an immediate colostomy to save his life. However, he is in such a severe state of shock, I don’t think he would survive the operation.”

“But what can we do for him?” I asked.\

“Take him home and love him. I’ll give you a prescription for antibiotics and vitamins. If there is any emotional response at all, call me immediately.”

Tears filled my eyes as I carried Nam Soo Kim to the car for the long drive home. Catrina, our daughter who was almost two years old, begged to hold the baby on her lap, so I gently cradled him in her arms as she cooed and sang lullabies to him. His face remained expressionless. When we arrived home, my husband phoned our home teacher and neighbor, C. Don Miller, to come and assist him in giving a blessing to the baby. Dr. Miller, our former bishop, was also a prominent physician, so after the blessing we asked for his expert opinion. He confirmed the specialist’s prognosis that the odds of the baby’s surviving were slim.

That night we slept with the inert infant snuggled warmly between us. Early the next morning, Catrina climbed into bed with us for her morning hugs. Before long we heard our ten-month-old son, Jeremy, cry, and I went into his room, scooped him up, and brought him back into our bedroom. The five of us filled our king-sized bed. My husband began playfully tickling Catrina and Jeremy, and soon the three of them were laughing hysterically. Nam Soo Kim remained still in my arms. Then Catrina climbed onto my husband’s knee and begged, “Give me horsey ride!”

I held the quiet infant close and thought how sad it was that this baby had never known the joy of a family’s love. Tears felt warm on my cheeks as I whispered words of love to him. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw a faint smile crease the corners of his tiny mouth. I wondered if I had imagined it, but then I saw his eyes move toward our laughing Catrina as she shouted, “Mama, Mama, baby happy, baby happy!” With no need for words, my husband gently took Nam Soo Kim and kissed him under the chin. Momentarily, weak sounds of laughter struggled from within his tiny body. I ran to the telephone. Our surgeon told us to bring the baby to the hospital immediately. Surgery could begin.

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