The Baby Room

After a 28-hour flight to Ethiopia, we were a bit disoriented but still needed to wait for luggage, go through customs, and become accustomed to the sounds, smells, and sights of Africa. Whisked straight to the orphanage, we were one of three sets of couples who all had joined the flight on a layover through Washington, D.C. We’d never met each other before, but each of us were about to meet our new children. It was about 10 P.M. local time when we walked through the doors of the sparsely furnished but airy home in Addis Ababa. Thirty children were staying there at the time—often many more, but rarely less. They were all staying in different rooms, usually about four to six per room. The baby room, however, stood apart. As our driver led us into a room with cribs upon cribs, he flipped the light switch and a harsh fluorescent light filled the room. Where they’d been silent before, several little bundles started to cry in shocked protest.