Haiti First Adoption Trip Journal, Days 3 and 4 (11/24-25/12): More Playdates and Saying Goodbye

Saturday was hair day in the children’s village. As we entered the gates, we saw all the boys seated in a line on a small retaining wall abutting the driveway. They were waiting for their turns to sit in a chair on the opposite side of the driveway for their trims (J is the only boy in the village who has a little ‘fro, the rest wear their hair trimmed very short. On the front porches of the cottages, special mothers were seated behind little girls twisting and braiding their hair.

As soon as they noticed us, the boys sitting on the wall started chanting “H’s Mama! H’s Mama!” I guess I made an impression the day before. What a welcome! As the big boys chanted, a sweet little face with a shy, smirky little smile peeked out at us from toward the end of the line. Our precious HM.

One of the men took his hand and walked him to us. The big boys continued to chant. M got shy when he reached us. I offered my hand. He looked at me, looked at my tote bag (my “bag of tricks” which he knew contained snacks and surprises), took my hand and we headed toward the covered pavilion next to the playground.

D walked back to the cottage and was told that J was already down for his morning nap. Baby boy gets his sleep!

I sat with M on the floor of the pavilion and I took a coloring book and crayons out of my bag. One by one I removed the crayons from the box and said each color in French (thinking they might be close to the names of the colors in Kreyol). Apparently they are because M knew what I was doing and proceeded to point to each of the crayons and tell me the colors, which sounded very close to what I’d told him. I picked up a crayon and handed one to M so we could color together. He got an excited look on his face and took a bite of it! After a couple of chews and me making “yucky” expressions, he spit it out and let me help him get all the little green “crayon crumbs” out of his teeth and mouth. Blah! I started coloring and he joined in.

When he was ready to move on to a different activity, I pulled out a sheet of stickers and the three of us sat for together and enjoyed sticking them on our faces and in his coloring book.

About this time, one of the special mothers walked up with J. I ran out to get him, not realizing I still had a big cat sticker on my forehead. She handed J to me and smiled. D thought she gave me a look of approval. I didn’t see it but of course that would make me glad. It was so important to me that the special mothers see how adored and loved our boys are and that they believe we will give them a good life. M has been living at the village for over a year now. J for most of his life. I know there’s a lot of love between our boys and their special mothers. l can only imagine how hard it is for these women to love and care for children for so long then say goodbye and send them off. K’s Enat cried when we left Hannah’s Hope, and she’d only cared for K for three months. When I was in Ethiopia in October, I went back and visited Hannah’s Hope and a couple of K’s special mothers. Though lots of children have passed through in the past 3 years, the special mothers and staff still remembered K and I could tell that it meant a lot to them to see how she’s grown and how beautiful she is and that she’s happy and healthy and doing well. Hopefully, we will get to know our boys’ special mothers better during future visits.

Of course , J was as smiley and happy as he was the day before. I could just eat him up!

M ran back to the cottage for a minute and returned with Gravedigger. We spent lots of time rolling the truck back and forth along the concrete floor. We ate cookies. We turned up the volume on my phone and played some music and danced. We played “this little piggy” on their toes. We pulled Goodnight Moon out of my bag and D read it to the boys. After a couple of hours, we walked them back to the cottage for lunch and naptime. We told the special mothers we’d be back in a bit. M got sad again. Our hearts ached again. Saying goodbye wasn’t any easier than the night before.

We went back to the hotel and had a lunch of French fries and cokes. We walked along the beach and met Patric. I showed him the bracelet I’d bought that morning from Tutu. Back at our bungalow, we laid on the bed and watched an episode of Parenthood. I was an emotional mess and my ugly cry surfaced during every parent-child “moment”. We freshened up and headed back to the children’s village around 2 o’clock.

M was still asleep when we walked into the cottage. We saw him on a bed in a back room using his coloring book for a pillow. Goodnight Moon and Goodnight Gorilla were in his arms. He was clutching Gravedigger in his hand. I noticed J’s little chewy toy next to him as he slept in the pack-n-play, but didn’t see any other toys in the cottage. Before our trip, our agency rep warned me to not be alarmed about the lack of toys in the cottages, that they keep lots of toys in the village playroom. I wondered if M would get to keep his little truck and books after we left or if they’d be sent to the playroom. He was so possessive and proud of “his” stuff. It might break his little heart to have it taken from him. I guess we’ll see next time we visit.

As soon as we walked into the cottage, the other children woke M up. He gathered all his stuff and came to us. We decided to head to the playground for our afternoon play date. M LOVED swinging in the swing, but it was obvious that he hadn’t done it before. I swung with him in my lap for a bit then D held him in the swing and let him do it “by himself”, which he grinned from ear to ear about. He thought it was hilarious for me to tickle him or get his toes on the upswing, or lay underneath him, or do cartwheels and the “Mama Dance” in front of him. A special mother brought J out to us about then. As we played, she spent the rest of the afternoon hand-washing the children’s laundry in a tub of water. She hung it all on the play equipment to dry in the sun.

I had a hat in my bag. “Chapo Ma Chapo!” M giggled when I put it on his head. He looked adorable in it but thought it was more fun to play a game of us putting it on him and him pulling it off and running away. Or he’d pull it down over his eyes and we’d pretend to look for him. He’d laugh and laugh and finally rip the hat off and we’d act all surprised to finally find him.

Nothing makes me love my husband more than watching him interact with our daughters. And the same was true with our sons. D’s a great dad--silly, playful, nurturing, sensitive, strong, gentle. These little boys need a daddy. I think they’re getting the best one!

Right about sunset, the children in our boys’ cottage came outside and sat along the walkway to the front porch. They started singing “This Little Light of Mine” in Kreyol. We walked over and joined them. I sat next to M and D sat with J in his lap. We sang along in English, complete with the motions taught to us by Uncle Shelby and Aunt Connie so many years ago. The children smiled and seemed delighted about us singing with them. After This Little Light, the little girls started everyone singing “Glory, Hallelujah!” (King of Kings and Lord of Lords), which they sang in Kreyol and we again accompanied in English. One of the special mothers came out on the porch and led them in another song that we didn’t know. She had M sing a verse by himself. What a brave little boy! His little voice and accent are so precious.

He was singing for his supper—literally. The special mother went into the cottage and came out with something that looked like a bowl of cream of wheat. She called M up to the porch and sat him in a chair opposite her and fed him dinner. It was all business and over in about 3 minutes.

After M’s dinner, we decided it was a good time to say goodbye. I’d been holding M’s books and truck while he ate and gave those back to him. We gave him hugs and kisses and handed J over to one of the special mothers. Once again, M cried as we walked away from the cottage. It felt good to know that he liked having us there. And that maybe some bonding was starting to happen. But once again, our hearts hurt, too. Being able to visit is wonderful. But saying goodbye is so, so hard!

We enjoyed pina coladas and sunset again as we waited for the restaurant to open for dinner. We watched the fishing boats sail by and started making plans for our next visits. Before this trip, we were told that we were welcome to bring the boys back to the hotel to swim or play on the beach if we thought the boys would do okay. We’d packed little swim trunks and floaties and sand toys, but agreed that we didn’t think M was quite ready for us to take him away from the comfort and familiarity of the children’s village. Maybe that’ll happen next time. Maybe next time we’ll hire a driver to take us up into the mountains or just explore the area a bit. We want to visit and get more involved with some different charities in Port-au-Prince and the area our sons are from. And D has a number of contacts we’d like to build relationships with. Over spring break or maybe this summer, we’d like to bring the girls with us. They’d love the pool at the hotel. The resort is safe and secure and offers enough activities and comforts of home to provide a good opportunity to introduce them to a developing country without overwhelming them. We don’t want them to pity Haiti; but we do want to raise them to be compassionate and to understand what poverty is and what it means to make a difference. We want them to see the good in Haiti, to connect with the people and see the value of partnering with and empowering others. We want them to tell their friends (and especially their Haitian brothers) how awesome Haiti is. We look forward to bringing some of our friends and family to Haiti to share its beauty and our heart for its people with them, and hopefully ignite a love for Haiti in them, too.

As we were eating dinner, the hotel manager came to our table with a phone. Mansour was on the other end. He asked about our trip and told us that he was sorry he didn’t meet us on this trip but that we would be seeing a lot of him in our post-IBESR required trip, which could be in a few weeks or a few months. He would be sending a driver in the morning to take us back to the airport.

After dinner, we went back to our room to try to catch up on and tune into all the big college football games of the day. Our Gators (surprisingly!) beat Florida State. Yay! Notre Dame beat USC (we were actually rooting for USC in this one!). And ol’ Urban Meyer coached Ohio State to a win over Michigan. Y’all know the B family is crazy about college football! I know D can hardly wait to have sons to share gameday fun and memories with.

Before we left, we had a suitcase full of children’s clothes we needed to drop off at the children’s village. How we came to obtain all the donations is a story in itself. A couple of days before we left, I sent Mama on a shopping mission to locate a pair of 3T swim trunks for M, in case we were able to bring him back to the hotel to swim or play at the beach. I’d gone shopping the weekend before and couldn’t find anything—didn’t realize how hard it would be to find swim trunks in November—after all, we swim and beach year-round in Florida! Well, Mama went all over town and had no luck finding anything, either. After a day of hunting, she decided to give up. As she was walking out to her car in the Kohl’s parking lot, a friend of hers happened to drive by. They chatted for a few minutes and she mentioned to her friend what she’d been looking for and about our trip and our adoption and her friend said “I’ve got 2 garbage bags full of size 3T boy stuff in my trunk that my son outgrew that I’ve been wanting to drop off at Goodwill. I know I have a couple of pairs of swim trunks in there and a bunch of other clothes. I’ll give it all to you if you don’t think your daughter would mind hand-me-downs?” Well of course, I didn’t mind! Receiving all those clothes was totally a God wink! What a blessing! And they were all in great condition, too! I set aside a couple of Woody-Buzz and Cars shirts out for K, kept the swim trunks for M to wear on our next visit, and we donated the rest to the children’s village. They weren’t donated specifically for M, but there is a good chance he’ll get to wear some of them because they happen to be just his size!

We didn’t want M to see us that morning because we knew our short visit wouldn’t make sense to him. It would probably be too confusing for M and emotional for all of us for us to make a quick stop and run off, so we had Mario park the van outside the gates and run the donation bags to Supreme’s office. We didn’t want to chance one of the older boys catching a glimpse of us and starting the “H’s Mama!” chant again.

It was great to be able to return to the airport by daylight and see everything we’d missed when we drove in on Thursday night. It was Sunday morning and we saw lots of people dressed up and walking to church. The roads were not as busy, so I was able to relax and enjoy the ride and the scenery without so much fear for my life. Mario’s frequent honks were pretty effective in keeping people out of our way. We drove by many simple churches and could see crowds gathered inside to worship. We saw a number of cemeteries and markets and crowded residential areas. People were fetching water, washing clothes, cooking over fires, tinkering with their motos, sitting on their front stoops. Daily life in Haiti.

We passed a large tent city as we entered Port-Au-Prince. It’s been three since the earthquake and over 20,000 displaced people are still living in a city of tents, sewage, crime, disease and despair. One big, final dose of reality to swallow before we left. Yes, Haiti is awesome. Haiti has huge needs, too. It’s a place of contradiction. A dichotomy that pulls your heart and mind in so many different directions that it’s hard to process or even think straight. Part of me wished to stay forever. Part of me wished to just escape with my sons. There are thousands of NGOs on the ground, yet Haiti is still the poorest country in the world. It’s right in our backyard, yet solutions and sustainability seem more challenging there than anywhere. It’s Beautiful and it’s awful at the same time.

Paradise.

Poverty.

A chunk of my heart will remain in Haiti long after my sons come home.

We waved good-bye and I hollered out “Orevwa, Mario!” to Guy(?) and we played the I’ll-carry-your-baggage-for-free-but-I-really-expect-a-couple-of-bucks game. This time we were caught a bit off-guard because the routine was the same but the men were all dressed in American Airlines garb. We were able to quickly check our bags and get our boarding passes and make our way though the several security stations (D said the lines were much, much shorter than on his previous trip). Once at the gate area, we headed upstairs to the small lounge where we’d be spending the next 3 hours waiting and people watching. D and I can entertain ourselves for hours and hours studying people and their mannerisms and the way they act and interact with each other. The Americans and Canadians (mostly folks on mission trips) were especially amusing to D and me that morning. Aren’t humans funny creatures? I have to believe God must think we’re pretty funny sometimes, too. That our little quirks and habits we make Him laugh and bring Him joy similarly to the way our children’s uniqueness and personalities and antics do us?

As we were sitting in the lounge, we heard a bit of commotion behind us and turned to see President Martelly and his entourage making their way through the airport! He apparently flies commercial and they had just filled up the business class section on the plane from Miami that we were about to board to return to Miami. Since we’ve been home, we were able to watch his UN address on C-SPAN (the trip he was returning from). On the Monday before we left, we’d received an email telling us that our file was sitting on his desk awaiting his signature. Only Martelly’s and the IBESR’s director’s signatures are required and we will move on to the next step of the process. There seems to be no rhyme or reason in the signing timeframes. Some people get through in weeks, others wait months and months and even years. I’ve read more than one story of families who waited nearly a year before they were told their file had fallen behind a filing cabinet at some point and had just been discovered. I would imagine the longer a file sits, and the more paper that piles up on top of it, the more likely that is to happen. Anyway, I may or may not have hollered “Sign our Dispensation!” as he passed by. He was almost gone before I thought to grab my camera. Here’s the not-so-great picture I got (he’s the bald one with glasses above the man in the security vest):

After Martelly passed through, D and I got engrossed in a conversation with each other and while we’d casually noticed that the people we were originally up there with had all gone downstairs and whole crowd upstairs changed, we had no idea how much time had actually passed and we just kept on talking and cracking ourselves up about who knows what. For some reason—only God!—I decided to see how much longer we had to wait and when I pulled out my phone it was 1:15—10 minutes before our plane was scheduled to leave! CLOSE CALL!! Time really does fly when you’re having fun! We didn’t even realize we were having so much fun—but we were both sure we had another hour or more to wait. We ran downstairs and were among the last few people to get on the plane before they shut the doors. We came so close to missing that flight! I have no idea what we would have done if we’d missed it. Thank you, Lord, for prompting me to look at my phone!

We had enough time in Miami to stop at the food court for some yummy, greasy comfort food from Nathan’s. We shared a loaded hot dog, a Philly steak and a big order of chili cheese fries. Yum! We drove straight from Tampa to Mama’s to get the girls—it was so good to see them!

Not sure when our next trip to visit the boys will be, but we definitely want to get back in the next couple of months. In the meantime, we’ll just continue to wait. For updates and new pictures of the boys. And for word that our file is making progress through the system.

We love all the celebration and tradition of Christmas and are making lots of memories with our girls. But we seem incomplete. Two little faces are missing out on the wonder and magic of the season. Two children who are in our hearts are missing from our photographs. I pray they’re home next year and that we get to wake up to find Monster Trucks and soccer balls and all sorts of crazy boy fun under our Christmas tree.