The Long Road Home

I was putting together Noelle's crib today while Emma scattered books and toys. Its just like Emma's and in the same room. The only difference is that Noelle's crib is nice and new but Emma has used her top rails like a big teething ring, chewing off much of the paint.
Pondering the difference, it occurred to me that Noelle has her own crib already. One that feels like home. Maybe the paint is chewed off the top rail or, more likely, its a durable steel crib that's seen a dozen infants come and go, sitting in a big room full of cribs. But it is home. She's probably spent much more time there than Emma has in hers. Has she been outside of the orphanage since she can remember?
Soon she'll be taken by car an hour away - scary enough for a two-year-old who isn't familiar with the outside world. Then she'll be put in the arms of people with unfamiliar faces and unfamiliar clothes. They smell different. They chatter at her but she doesn't understand. She wants to sleep but her crib is not there, gone forever. A long bus ride, a crowded terminal with more people than she's ever seen but no faces she knows. Will she feel alone? Scared? Probably so. Still, there are three hotels, three more plane rides, three hours on a train, cab rides, big city lights and lots of noise before she arrives at her new crib in our quiet house. Will that be a relief? Or will she wish she were back in the company of all those other babies in the orphanage nursery? It will take time.
I hope our home is a sanctuary for her, where the stress will melt away as she hides in our arms. I hope she's comforted by the sight of another girl in the next crib. And that her new crib soon feels like home.