Analiz Gonzalez: A Cold Night in Oaxaca

I have baby mania. Any time I see one, I want to carry her.

So it wasn't long after I spotted a 4-month-old infant at the Zapoteco community near Oaxaca that I stretched out my arms.

She had an awful cold. Her nose was runny and she had the hiccups. But she cooed at my smiles and I was in heaven. I rocked her, bounced her around and made all sorts of baby noises before snapping out of my zone and noticing that her mom and aunts were watching and smiling at our interaction.

"What's her name?" I asked.

"She doesn't have one," the mother answered. "What is yours?"

"I'm Analiz," I told her.

"Then that's her name, too."

I smiled and nodded. This woman just named her little angel after me. They didn't even know me and I'll never see them again. I had no words.

I wondered, though, why it took so long for 4-month-old Analiz to get a name. Could there be a high infant mortality rate? Russ asked the question.

"Yes, they told us. It's 25 percent. But it used to be a lot worse."

I thought of Analiz and her cold. They have no doctors. No heaters. Hardly enough blankets. They bathe in cold water in aluminum out-houses without roofs. Babies get sick and die. Not naming them must help the families deal with the loss of a child.

Tonight, when I take a shower and get ready for bed, when I lay in my king size comforter at the Holiday Inn in Mexico City, I don't think I'll feel comfortable. I'm warm. I'm fed. I'm clothed. But Analiz is sleeping on the dirt floor of a shack in Oaxaca. And it's a cold night.