My Experience In My Life

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I grew up in Romania where I called a camper my home for the first eight years of my life. We moved from city to city reaching out to the Gypsy community. A childhood in which one gets lice most summers, intermingles two languages assuming everyone understands both, and attends second grade in three different countries is, of course, an unconventional upbringing. With the unconventional upbringing, however, came extraordinary experiences that have shaped who I am and the life I have chosen to pursue.
My father has led volunteer groups for hospital visitations for many years, and I have volunteered with him for as long as I can remember. Many of these early memories are a blur, but there is one that I have never forgotten. We were visiting a local hospital, singing to patients and giving coloring books and crayons as usual. This visit was different, however, because we were given permission to go to the maternity ward. I knocked on the first door I saw and entered the room to see 4 or 5 cribs with a baby in each. I immediately noticed that their hands and feet were tied to their cribs. I quickly turned to my father to ask why they were being treated so horribly. He told me that they had been abandoned by their mothers and that, sadly, the nurses didn’t have time to take care of crawling babies. As tears began to fill my eyes, I went to the nearest crib and untied the hands and arms of a baby girl. I don’t remember her crying; all I remember is her clinging to me with all of

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