Part II - Arrival

We arrived at an old house and first passing beneath a balcony with half a dozen adorable, immensely excited, dirty little faces peering through the bars, entered through an open foyer with wood and wicker furniture lining the walls, into the main house. Directly after a quick offered and accepted chance to email home, I was taken on a tour of the house.

The first floor contains the living room, offices, dining area and kitchen which was bustling with activity in preparation for lunch. The second floor houses the 100 or so kids from infant up to about 3 years old (after that, they're transferred to the toddler house, where we live, where there are currently about 70 more kids). There are three rooms that house the kids, one crazier then the next. First, there's the NICU where the preemies and sick babies stay with a few Haitian nannies and a full time nurse (Susan, from Scotland). Our NICU is actually probably better equipped then any nearby hospital. Second is Urge B, housing more nannies and a bundle of not-yet, to just- crawling babies. And lastly, the incredibly overwhelming Urge A; home to another group of nannies and about 60 needy, adorable, insatiable children who latch onto your legs in swarms. Although, it's not necessarily in the sad, pathetic, heart breaking way I would have expected. It is heart breaking in its own right but they contain this incredible joy and look at you as though they intend to love you as much as they hope that you'll love them. Either that, or they're just doing whatever they can to charm you into choosing them to take out to the balcony for some reprieve. Escaping that room consists of tiptoeing out the door as though each little finger and toe were a potential landmine. Although, these kids are so tough, it probably wouldn't even phase them. Finally, the third floor houses a few living areas and the access to the play balcony where we spend most of our time with our kids. This balcony also affords one of the most spectacular views I will ever see. Rolling hills and valleys as far as the eye can see. In a word, majestic.

No soon after the tour ended, I was given my list of 8 children (1 per hour, once a day for the duration of my stay, minus weekends); "Stacy's Little Angels", as the paper calls them. As it was just rolling up to 11:00am, I was given the chance to grab one child for the hour before lunch. So, by random choosing, I went searching for little Mike who after being pointed out to me in Urge A, entered my arms eagerly and held on like I was nothing further from a stranger. I took him up to the balcony to join the other volunteers, sat down on one of the wicker couches and held him against me; his arms held tight around my torso and my arms cradling his head and back with equal affection and rocked him gently willing myself not to cry in front of a group of strangers who had just barely learned my name. It was a blessed moment.