I am the director of the Yale Journalism Initiative and the author of A Flower Traveled in My Blood, a narrative nonfiction history of the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo. The Abuelas’ story has captivated me since 2011, when I moved to Buenos Aires shortly after graduating from college. As I read more about Argentina’s last dictatorship, I was completely shocked to learn that, among the thousands of Argentines the military disappeared during that period, were hundreds of pregnant women. I remember the nausea that spread over me as I read about how pregnant women were detained, held until they gave birth, and sometimes pushed out of planes over the Río de la Plata soon after having their babies. Their children, meanwhile, were often sent to live in the homes of military and police officers under false identities. Despite the immense danger, the grandmothers of these stolen babies refused to relent—boldly protesting in front of the presidential palace to demand answers, disguising themselves to observe children they suspected might be their relatives, and pioneering new genetic methods to identify them. I devoured all the material I could find about the Abuelas and their grandchildren, but I found there was only one book on the subject in English. It was thorough and compelling, but it had been published in 1999 and was more of a scholarly examination than a narrative history of the type I hoped to read. It did not yet cross my mind to try to write one myself.