Babies, babies, babies

Oh, yesterday was kind of sad. I spent several hours at another student's internship at the orphanage. I'm not sure what I expected to feel there but maybe I just hadn't put enough thought into it. Maybe I was just thinking orphanage= loads of kids which I love which means it'll be fun! I mean, I knew on a certain level it was going to be sad but I don't think I realized just how heavy it would really be.
We arrived at 2:30 and put on our smocks. There were about 15 women, staff and volunteers. Mostly Senegalese but also an American guy, a French woman, and of course- us. It was feeding time when we arrived so we went to Sandy's room- Room 5 and grabbed some babies and started feeding. After we returned them to their room and began changing them.
There are five rooms in the orphanage- at least on the floor with the babies. Each room has 10 or 11 cribs. I'd say that all or almost all of the babies were under the age of 1 year. The babies have names but are mostly known by their numbers. Their clothing, beds, and bottles all correspond to their numbers. There must be at least 45 babies there.
The first thing I noticed when I held my first infant there was that she didn't smell like a baby. She didn't smell like baby powder and soap and fresh skin. She smelt like sour milk; like a baby who couldn't possibly be getting all the attention she deserves or needs. It's not anyone's fault. Most of the babies living there haven't been abandoned. Most of them had mothers who passed away during childbirth or shortly after. I wonder if they ever imagined that the child they loved for nine months in their womb was going to live its infancy being a number.
The women working there are sweet and the babies are all held but with 40 how can they ever be held enough? They're well taken care of, with vitamins and treatments, mosquito nets. In fact, some of them might be healthier than if they had stayed with their own families. Yet, they aren't loved uniquely. They aren't individuals. They are someone's job. They are babies in waiting for love.
Some of them are as young as two weeks. They cry and cry- they want to be held. You can't hold them all and it's so heartbreaking because how do you choose? They all deserve it equally. In the "playroom", as they all got layed out on mats together, mostly just to lay there and sleep or wait to be picked up for a little bit, I had such a mental conflict.
I'd pick up one who was crying and then another would start and I would want to pick that one up. I would put down the one I was holding and then they would cry and then a lot of babies would be crying at the same time. I couldn't stand it. There just weren't enough arms. A baby should know a face. It should be familiar with at least one person in it's life. It shouldn't be so alone. Oh, I dreamt about the orphanage last night, and I couldn't stop seeing all their little eyes staring at me and hearing their cries as you just had to finally resort to walking away.
I was exhausted when I left there at 6:30. Physically and mentally drained like a lifeless entity. I was envious at first of her internship there but I think that maybe I couldn't handle 25 hours a week working there. I think it would be too hard for me. I think I would want to adopt a baby. So, I'm going to spend as much time volunteering there as I can before I leave. I really loved it but I hate that it exists.