Rooms of beds

Yesterday we went to see the orphanage where Elsie spent the first two years and five months of her life.  What we saw was one hallway with rooms of beds.  In the orphanages we've been in previously there are separate rooms:  one room for sleeping and another to play and crawl around.  This place had no toys, no place for babies to crawl and run and play.

We had signs that this was Elsie's beginning.  At first she wouldn't let us hold her when we fed her.  Now she will.  She moves her fingers back and forth and watches them--self-stimulation.  She doesn't do that when she's out and about with us.  We know that a lot of developmental growth was lost in our sweet girl's first few years.  But we're seeing lots of good signs too.  She makes good eye contact.  She's willing to cuddle.  She giggles when we tickle her and bounce her.  She imitates occasionally.  She makes babbling noises.  

Oh how thankful I am that we have been given the privilege of rescuing one precious one from that kind of life.  But how heartbroken I am for all who remain.  While we were there, I walked around and looked into the eyes of those babies.  I smiled at them.  I rubbed their backs.  They lit up.  I prayed that God would give each one a mommy and a daddy to love on them.  While we were there, we smiled and thanked the caregivers and the director, who were kind people.  But last night, I cried and cried.  I will not forget and I will not stop praying.