Haiti Second Adoption Trip Jounal (4/2/13-4/7/13): Back to Florida, Back on Earth

Many of the passengers on our flight from Port-au-Prince back to Ft. Lauderdale hadn’t previously flown.  It took us a long time to get to the gate as so many people required instructions and hand-holding through the process. When you think about it, there really are a lot of rules and procedures involved in air travel! It can be overwhelming at times even for experienced travelers. I kept reminding myself that on one of our next trips home from Haiti, we’ll have 5 children with us!  I'm still brainstorming about strategies to make that trip go smoother.

Each suitcase—whether to be checked and carry-on—was opened and searched prior to check-in. This was new since last time we flew out of Haiti—or maybe it’s just particular to Spirit Airlines. An elderly man in front of us was told he’d have to toss his big bottle of liquor wrapped in aluminum foil. No problem--he opened it up and guzzled it down right there on the spot!

It was both amusing and endearing to me to watch people trying to figure out the overhead bins and seatbelts and looking curiously at the barf bags and safety instructions. As we went through customs upon landing in Florida, we watched as a border patrol dog got all worked up as he sniffed one grandma’s bags. Everyone stopped and stared. Were we witnessing a big drug bust? She was detained as the border patrol officers dug through her bag and pulled out—an illegal mango!

I’ve been flying all my life and still think it’s crazy that people can get into this huge piece of machinery and travel above the clouds. It’s amazing, isn’t it? I wondered whether the people around us were excited, nervous, scared. I enjoyed daydreaming about where each of them was going, what they were going to be doing in the States and what adventures awaited them.  What were they thinking as we arrived in Ft. Lauderdale and flew over all those huge houses, manicured lawns and swimming pools in every other yard? In many ways, Haiti and Florida are like two different worlds. For someone who didn’t know what to expect, I imagine it would seem like landing on a different planet.  I was thinking these things to myself as K napped in the seat beside me. I kissed her awake as the plane pulled up to the gate. She woke up, looked out the window and loudly announced “We’re back on Earth!”

We had a leisurely drive home, stopped at Chilis for a late lunch, got into town and visited with Mamatoo and picked up Chloe, swung by Publix for a few groceries (I actually had to consciously refrain from saying "Bonjou!" to people we walked past at the grocery store--it had become a habit!) and hung out with Pa for a little while once we got home.  It was such an amazing trip. I’m so glad we took the girls! I’m so thankful for the time spent with the boys. And I’m so ready to go back.

Haiti Second Adoption Trip Journal (4/2/13-4/7/13): Bonding Time

Thursday morning, we woke up and walked to the resort’s open-air restaurant for breakfast. Coffee, mango juice, pancakes, fruit and (my favorite!) an omelet station. After breakfast, we went back to our bungalow and the girls did some schoolwork and played on the beach while I finished getting dressed.

Impromptu photo shoot.  Our littles are NOT camera shy!
These were taken on the steps of our bungalow. 
Look at the view and how close we were to the ocean!  Loved sleeping to sound of waves crashing!

Once we were ready for the day, we bought some bottles of water and walked up to the children’s village. The girls were delighted by the goats, cows, pigs, chickens and other livestock wandering along the road.  When D and I traveled back in November, we went up to the village twice a day to play with the boys out on the playground. We’d spend a couple hours there in the morning, head back to the resort while the boys had lunch and napped in their cottage, then we'd walk back up to the village for a couple more hours of play before dinner. We were expecting a similar routine on this trip.  Boy, were we in for a surprise! 

We arrived at the village and stopped by the office to let the staff know we were there. D and the girls chatted with Supreme while Beverly and I walked to the boys’ cottage to pick them up for our playdate. J was finishing up his breakfast bottle and HM was dressed and ready for fun. I thought we were just taking the boys over to the playground. . . when Beverly handed me a packed diaper bag and suggested we take them back to the hotel for bonding! Just have them back around 4 or 5 o’clock, she advised.

Wow. As excited as I was about the idea of having the boys with us all day, I admit I was also a little nervous about D and me suddenly having full responsibility for 5 little ones. I didn’t know how the boys would react being out of their familiar surroundings and people. Would the language barrier with HM be a problem? Would we stay in the room (probably not since the power was off during the day and it was HOT!) or would we be brave enough to take them all to the beach or pool? We'd have to navigate these things by the seat of our pants, as the next thing we knew we were escorted to the gate and walking back to the resort with three little girls and two little boys in tow!

This was pretty much the routine Thursday, Friday and Saturday. We swam in the pool, had picnics in a shady, grassy area near the beach, blew bubbles, played with machinas and kicked the soccer ball. We’d managed to tuck some of the boys’ unopened Christmas presents into our suitcases and HM was thrilled to open gifts from Uncle Brian (machinas! his favorite!) and Gabby (a Colorado t-shirt that he immediately wanted to wear!).

Our time at the resort with all our littles was crazy and chaotic and completely wonderful.

Bubbles!

A few notes about our precious HM. . .

Anytime we had drinks or snacks, he made sure J and everyone else was served before he would partake. He enjoyed being the one to hand out cookies or rice crispy treats or bottles of water.

He’s very protective of and loving toward J.

He called D Papa and me Manman. Oh, melt my heart! 

He reached up his arms and asked us to hold him when he was anxious or tired or scared. He was NOT a fan of the goats, cows, pigs, chickens and other livestock wandering along the road! 

He quickly learned the girls' names and used them.

He liked everyone to be together and would go looking for anyone who slipped out of the crowd.

He LOVES machinas, cameras, sunglasses, chapos, sweets and soft drinks!

He has NO fear of water.  As soon as we walked up to the pool, he broke into a run and jumped in (in an area over his head).  D threw down the towels and stuff he was holding and took off right behind him--catching him just as they were hitting the water.  This was so unnerving as I'm such a huge worry-wart when it comes to kids and water.  Swimming lessons will be on the agenda as soon as practicable after our cocooning period.  He didn’t want to wear floaties but enjoyed splashing around in the shallow end (especially splashing Papa and getting a big reaction) and being held by us when it was over his head.

He expressed his objections with a cute little pouty lip and frowny face. . . and if he really didn't like something, by throwing his flip-flops.

He’s talkative and inquisitive and has the sweetest little singing voice. We wished we spoke kreyol, because it would have been so helpful to explain all of the new things we were seeing and doing and set his expectations about what was to follow. I’m sure it was frustrating for him to not have us answering the questions he was asking, yet was courageous and trusting enough to go along.  Bless his heart.

He likes to be funny and make his sisters laugh. He did a silly little dance in our room and I said something like “shake that booty, HM!” The girls laughed and he just ate up the attention. From then on, at random times, he would dance and shake his hips and say “shake that booty!” His first English phrase.

Everybody Splash Papa!

A few notes about our sweet J. . .

He’s too adorable for words.

He has the cutest little grin. Perfect little tiny white teeth.  A big smile spreads across his face when he realizes someone is talking to or about him.

He’s so chunky and healthy-looking. Love the arm and thigh rolls.

His hair is growing into an awesome little fro-hawk. He rocks it!  And reminded us of a little Mr. T impersonator when he put on a scowly face.           

He’s a content, happy, laid-back little guy.

J also loved the pool. It was so hot outside and the water was cool but not cold. It was refreshing!  J seemed to think it was the best thing ever. He would slap his hand down on the surface and giggle whenever the water would splash up on us.

He loves to be held and carried and did not want Mama to put him down.  We still haven't seen the "crawling with great speed" mentioned in our last update. 

Futbol!

A few notes about our supergirls. . .

They were so patient with HM and so nurturing toward J. They impressed us with their willingness to put the boys before themselves at every opportunity (not sure this will be the case once they're home and the honeymoon is over, but it filled my heart and helped them really connect with the boys on this trip).

I loved that our big girls got to experience being in the minority. We make an effort to include a lot of diversity in our lives, friendships and daily interactions but for the most part, people of color are a minority in our girls’ world. I want them to grow up with an understanding that this is something particular to the area where we live but not representative of the composition of the world at large, if that makes sense.

K noticed that most everyone we saw in Haiti was black. One time I asked her “What do you think about Haiti?” and she answered “there’s lotsa brown peeps.”  "Is that awesome?," I asked, and she said "Yep. I like Haiti!" 

K has the kind of personality that’s as big as any room she’s in. She’s so expressive, animated, articulate and adorable that she attracts attention wherever she goes. Many of the Haitians we encountered thought she was Haitian. A few said things to her in Kreyol and when she didn’t answer back, they smiled and said “oh. . . American!” 
Every time someone asks K if she's excited about having little brothers, she responds, "Yes.  And I'm gonna be the boss of them!"  Baby sister can't wait to be a big sister and boss!
Our girls are natural jet-setters. I hope we have the opportunity to take them all over the world as they grow up because they are such great travel companions. They’ve already seen and experienced so much more than D and I did at their age and I often wonder how these things will shape and influence who and what they grow up to be. I love seeing new places and cultures through their eyes and I love that they’re genuinely interested and curious and excited about difference and adventure and trying new things.

They truly love their brothers.  Every day they pray for them and talk about how badly they want to go back to Haiti and how they can’t wait to get their brothers home.

The most dreaded part of every day was taking the boys back to the village. Not only because it’s so hard to say goodbye—even for a night—but the walk itself was a big, hot, dramatic ordeal. On the morning walks, everyone was rested and energetic and ready to play. But by the end of the afternoon, there was more moaning and groaning and whining and complaining over the 15 minute walk to the children's village than there was over 12 hours of sitting still and being quiet on Embassy Day! After a full day of swimming and play, the children were all tired. Daddy and Mama were tired, too! Did I mention it was as hot as an oven? Even the breeze coming in off the ocean felt hot! It felt like we were trekking across the Sahara Desert!

A rainbow surrounded the sun all Friday afternoon. 
Hard to capture in a picture, but it was the wildest thing!  I googled it and discovered it's a rare atmospheric phenonemon called a called a "sun halo" or "sun dog" and is formed by tiny ice crystals way up in the atmosphere. 

Of course J had to be carried--I volunteered for that job.  Then there was the backpack full of water bottles. . .  As soon as HM realized we were going back to the village, he started getting sad and refused to walk. So D carried him. K decided she's still enough of a little sister to require holding, too.  So D picked her up and had 3 year olds on each hip.  A fussed that no one was able to hold her, so I tried to pack-horse with her on one of my hips (didn't last long) and J on the other.  We rotated babes and the backpack every few minutes, took regular breaks so I could do some Lamaze breathing (it DID finally come in handy!), and stopped every 50 or 100 steps to and drink some water, catch our breaths, ask "where's the hut?"* and psych ourselves up to start walking again. 

Leaving the resort for the village.

After we dropped off the boys, we had to turn around and trek back to the resort with the girls.


Once we got there, we all sat in the chairs under the ceiling fans in the lobby area. D bought us soft drinks at the bar. We felt like survivors!

In real life, D's face was as red as the Coke can.  

A and MN thought they could really blend in with the locals 
if they could only master the art of carrying stuff on their heads.  

Cheers!  Celebrating surviving another afternoon hike.

By the time Saturday afternoon rolled around, I could hardly bear the thought of doing that walk. We decided to ask one of the men at the hotel desk if it would be possible to call a tap-tap to drive us up the street to the children’s village.  I was afraid I would get a “it’s just across the bridge” response.**  But no, drivers in Haiti don’t mind taking a family down the driveway and back. The children enjoyed the ride and we tipped handsomely.  Worth every penny!

Fun in the pool.  Our girls think giving someone bunny ears in a photo is the funniest thing ever.
They think it means "I love you", which makes it even more hilarious to them when the boys do it to the girls at school.

D carried MN back to the room one night after dinner so she wouldn't feel

left out as the only child who didn't get carried on our walks to the children's village!

Saturday evening's goodbye was the hardest of all. I kissed sweet J and looked him over closely as I handed him back to his special mother. I tried to take note of every little detail. The smell of his hair. His grip around my finger. His tiny toenails. The way his eyes sparkle when he grins.  Our baby boy is growing and changing every day. It happens so fast at this age! I know he’s going to change so much more in the coming weeks and months before we see him again.

I could only imagine what HM was thinking as we told him goodbye. I know the village staff and special mothers try to explain the process and that we are his family and that we are here to visit and that he’ll one day go home with us. But does he really comprehend what they are telling him? He’s lived at the village since he was a baby. Does he even have a frame of reference to understand what “go home” means or how family life works? His mother visits him at the village and then we visit every few months. Does he think that’s what family is? People who come and visit every few months? Does he think we live at the resort or does he understand that we live far away? And does he understand what “far away” is, since his whole life has been spent within a few square miles? It must be so confusing to him. I hate that our bringing him home is going to turn his whole world upside down and rip away so much familiarity and comfort. I pray God gives him strength for all the transitions ahead and brings healing to his little heart.

Footnotes:

*D and I spent a semester of college at Innsbruck University in Austria. Most weeks we spent a day hiking in the Alps with Club Innsbruck. The destinations were almost always “huts” situated near the summits of the mountains—little chalets serving schnitzel and apfel strudel mit schlag and other goodies and sometimes offering overnight accommodation to hikers. We would usually hike for a couple hours in the morning the before the hut would come into view, way off in the distance. Then it always seemed like for the next couple of hours after that, the hut never got any closer. We’d hike and hike and hike and then look up and ask “where’s the hut?” and it would be just as far away as it was before. It seemed it moved back a few feet every time we moved a few feet closer. Then suddenly, it would be right there and we’d plop down on the grass and spend an hour or two resting and getting something to eat before making our descent. “Where’s the hut?” is now a little inside joke with me and D, something we say when it doesn’t seem like we’re making progress or if we are walking somewhere and are anxious to reach our destination.

**D and I honeymooned in Paris. Before we left, we located our hotel on a map and saw that it was right across the bridge from a train stop (note: this was before internet and GPS. We are old.) We’d been to Paris before and were familiar with the trains and figured we’d just hop on a train from the airport and take it to that stop and then just walk across the bridge with our bags. Well, my suitcases were very heavy (I used to be a notorious over-packer—they used to not charge you or make a big deal when suitcases were overweight, they’d just slap a big yellow “HEAVY” sticker on it to warn the baggage handlers). I was already weary from the overnight flight and when we got off the train I decided my bags were too bulky and heavy to lug down the sidewalk. So we waved down a cab and I told the driver I wanted to go to the Hotel Lutece and pointed across the bridge. And he said “Well, that’s just over the bridge, you don’t need a cab for that” and drove away. Well, I knew it was just over the bridge but I WANTED a cab for that and I was willing to PAY for the ride! So D gave it a shot. SAME RESPONSE! So. . . we lugged our suitcases across the bridge to the hotel.

Haiti Second Adoption Trip Journal (4/2/13-4/7/13): Anatomy Lesson

It wasn’t long after little brothers entered the picture before potty breaks and diaper changes made the differences in, um, male and female plumbing, apparent. This topic seems to be a non-issue in families with both daughters and sons.  I knew it was a conversation we'd have sooner or later.  I wasn't so much that we deliberately avoided it, but in our home of all girls and a modest man, it just never came up.            

Fast forward to Haiti. Judging by the confused, curious, concerned looks on the girls’ faces as we changed J’s diaper and put on HM’s swim trunks, it was clear that a short, simple, honest, direct, matter-of-fact, anatomy lesson was in order. No big deal.  What we hadn’t anticipated the challenge of maintaining our composure in responding to the observations and questions that followed (you’ll have to guess who said what):

“ALL boys? Are you saying even DADDY has one of those nose things?”

“Actually, I’ve known for a long time that O and A (their boy cousins) had extra parts on their vaginas.”

“Is it peNIS or peaNUTS? I heard (boy in her class) call his fanny his nuts once.”

“It’s a really awkward body part, isn’t it?”

“So people are just like animals. The boys have longer privates and the girls have longer eyelashes.”

“I wish I had a penis. It’d be fun to be able to stand up and go potty, especially in nasty bathrooms.”

It must have been our destiny to venture into that territory on that particular day. Had it not happened in our room, we surely would have had some explaining to do when we wandered out to the pool and were joined a bunch of UN troops spending their leave day at our resort. We were soon surrounded by a crowd buff European military men—sporting SPEEDOS! The girls’ reactions were classic:

M- “Um, those swimsuits are T.M.I!”

A- (dramatic sigh and eyeroll) “Well NOW I’ve seen EVERYthing!”

K- “MANS in PANTIES?!?!?!?”

Lord have mercy. 

Haiti Second Adoption Trip Journal (4/2/13-4/7/13): The Longest Day of their Lives

Our second day in Haiti started with both phone alarms going off at 4:00 a.m. Didn’t want to chance having one being set wrong or one running out of juice in the night.

Our driver and Beverly picked us up at 5:30 for the hour-and-a-half drive to the US Embassy in Port-au-Prince. Our appointment with USCIS was scheduled for 7:30. The game plan was to attend our Embassy appointment and interview, grab lunch and appear at Parquet (high court) in the afternoon. We knew it would be a long day, particularly for the three active little girls accompanying us, but we were ready for the challenge and excited about making some progress in the adoption process.

We got to see a lot of Port-au-Prince as we made our way to the Embassy down roads and alleys we hadn’t previously traveled. It had rained overnight and the streets were muddy and puddled. I always notice the Haitian mamas and daddies walking their little girls to church or school—it seems no matter how dusty or muddy it is, their daughters look immaculate—from their floppy pastel hairbows to their white bobby socks! As someone who knows how hard it is to get little girls dressed up and keep them clean, I'm always amazed at how well they pull this off!

We passed the UN headquarters and some painting vendors (I REALLY want a colorful painting from Haiti for our dining room (something similar to this) and am trying to figure out where to go in PAP for the best selection). We pulled up in front of the Embassy at 7.

We (as in D and me) assumed that with our 7:30 appointment we would be in and out. We knew there’d be a lot of security (bag searches, electronics confiscations, etc..), so we decided to leave everything but our paperwork and passports in the van and told the girls to leave their backpacks (full of books, sketch pads, snacks, schoolwork, and other of carefully-thought-out activities and things to make long waits go smoothly) in the van as well. Well, you know what they say about assuming. . . this turned out to be a huge mistake!

We made our way through the various security checkpoints and arrived at the designated room right on time. The Embassy staff were stationed behind bank-teller-style windows. There were about 10-12 other people there when we walked in. We were told that if we had an appointment we were just to take a seat and wait for our name to be called. Sure enough, around 7:45, we were called to a window. We handed over our I-600 paperwork and documentation.  The woman behind the glass looked it over and told us we'd be called back later for our interview. So we had a seat.

People continued to trickle in, including another couple that was called to the window a half hour or so after us and who we overheard were also filing their I-600. They sat across the room and waited for their interview. I wondered if any of the people in there were birth families there for their interviews—I tried to imagine what that experience must be like.

Over the next hour or so, the room filled up.  All the chairs got taken and people began standing along the walls. A group of women came in and set up little DNA test stations in front of the teller windows. They put on rubber gloves and started calling people up for cheek swabs—I think mostly to confirm parent-child relationships in connection with issuing US visas.  That was somewhat entertaining and educational to watch. 

Based on the passports they held in their hands, it appeared most everyone in there was Haitian or Haitian-American. Our family was definitely conspicuous. I could tell the wheels in people's heads were turning as they studied us, particularly when they realized K was with us. Knowing we stood out made me even more self-conscious about maintaining a pleasant demeanor and our daughters having good behavior.

Another hour passed. The other couple had their interview and left. We continued to wait. I’d printed some extra copies of the I-600 and Beverly had a pen, so we let them take turns drawing pictures. The girls whispered that they were hungry—they hadn't eaten since dinner the night before (and their breakfast bars were in their backpacks in the van!). They were trying so hard to sit still and be quiet and use their “Queen of England” manners, but we could tell they were growing restless. The whole experience was a real exercise in self-discipline and control.  I prayed they'd hang in there and encouraged them to keep up the good work.

Yet another hour passed. We continued to wait. My head was throbbing because I hadn’t had coffee. Seems my body's grown dependent on a morning jolt of caffeine. And to add to my bodily issues and further complicate the situation, Aunt Flo decided to join us. Lovely. The girls started getting a little delerious--they needed to release all that energy building up in their systems!  I may have resorted to threats and bribes at this point (of my children, that is!) (and all made under my breath but with a big smile on my face). Surely we were on the home stretch of this experience!

I said a prayer and gave myself a silent pep talk.  I had to be patient and persevere! I had to shift my focus from the frustration of waiting to the hope and reward of what lies ahead. Isn’t that true of every step of the adoption process? We know our sons are worth every wait, every big hurdle and every little inconvenience we encounter on this journey!

The crowd started to shrink back down so I was sure we’d be seen soon.  And we sat there as another hour passed! Still waiting. . . .

By 11:30, there were only about 20 other people left in the room. I wondered if we’d been overlooked. Just then, a man walked in and made an announcement to everyone in French.  And all the Embassy staff abandoned their windows. I asked Beverly what was going on. Apparently they were all required or expected or wanted to attend a luncheon with an ambassador. Many of the other people who had been waiting with us left. We and a handful of others stayed. Our girls continued to take turns drawing pictures and making up stories to go with them and accompanying me on frequent trips to the ladies’ room. I was so proud of them! I knew all the waiting and being silent and sitting still wasn’t easy on their busy little bodies!

Finally, at about 12:40, a man appeared at one of the windows and called our name!  I could have sworn I heard angels singing the Hallelujah chorus.  The officer who interviewed us was very thorough and seemed genuinely concerned with adoption ethics and USCIS’s role in investigating cases prior to visa issuance. We were advised of additional requirements and documentation that needs to be provided to obtain visas and of how to extend the deadline (set three months out) for providing such things in the likely event our court case is not wrapped up before the deadline passes (which, unfortunately, tends to be the norm).

We left the Embassy a little frazzled and totally drained, buit SO relieved to have another step of the adoption process checked off as done! As we walked out to the curb to look for our driver, I asked Beverly if we’d be grabbing lunch. No time for lunch, as it was now after 1:00 and we were supposed to be at Parquet by 2:00!!!! So off we went, racing, honking, swerving and bouncing our way across town. The girls ate their breakfast bars en route to the attorneys’ office, where we stopped only long enough for him to hop in the van.

When we got to Parquet, the attorney took our passports and told us to wait in the van and he would come back for us when the judge was ready to see us. We waited for about an hour and he came out and got us. We followed the attorney to the judge’s office and then followed the attorney and the judge to a long room with a desk at one end and a sofa and coffee table at the other. We sat on the sofa as the attorney and the judge looked over our paperwork and discussed our case. We were dismissed after a few minutes and then waited another hour or so in the van until our attorney came back. When we started the process, I thought it would be a good idea to borrow Bo's Rosetta Stone to brush up on my French so I'd understand what was being said in the court proceedings and such.  Well, it's still something I'd like to do, but it wouldn't really have been a great benefit.  We left Parquet around 4 p.m.—12 hours after our day began! Whew!

After we dropped the attorney back at his office, we asked Beverly and our driver if they would let us take them out for something to eat. We weren’t sure whether they were taking us up on the offer or not, but a few minutes later we pulled up in front of Muncheez.

There was a big soccer match on TV and Muncheez was packed with men watching the game. We sat on the patio and the men cheered and we swatted flies and ate cheeseburgers and pizza.  Beverly introduced us to Cola Couronne, a pineapple-flavored soda made in Port-au-Prince.  It was so good!  Apparently a few places in Florida carry it—I will be discussing this with my Publix store manager!  This is something I'd love to keep stocked in our fridge!      

Over dinner, Beverly told us a little bit about the boys. HM’s nickname in the village is “the Chief”. He's very smart and likes to be in charge. When it’s bedtime, he goes from room to room in his cottage making sure the other children are staying on task with their bedtime routine. He shouts “I’m the Chief of Police! Everyone get to bed!” J is referred to as “the pride of the village.” All the special mothers love to dote on him and pamper him and spoil him.  We told her it was important to us to meet their mother and that they have pictures taken with her before they leave Haiti.  She promised to do her best to make that happen (and she did). 

After dinner, we hit the road home. They took us back to the resort because the children at the village would already be getting ready for bed. The thought of my little Chief at work brought a smile to my face. D and I were drained but the girls were ready to release all the energy they’d so wonderfully kept bottled up all day, so we let them take a dip in the pool before dinner to celebrate while we relaxed and enjoyed the sunset. 

We were truly, truly impressed with how well they behaved all day. I’m pretty sure it was the longest day of their lives. We decided “Embassy Day” will be a good point of reference for any waiting-type activity they might face for the rest of their lives. Long line to ride Space Mountain? Hey, it's only a fraction of Embassy Day!  Appointment at Watson Clinic? That's nothing compared to Embassy Day! Gotta go to the DMV? Don’t worry—it’ll be a breeze.  Remember Embassy Day?  A meeting with Financial Aid during college class registration? Go for it! It surely won’t seem as long as Embassy Day! Waiting for the adoption process to finalize so you can bring your children home? Well, think many, many Embassy Days (in addition to the real one).  Adoption waiting has gotta be some of the hardest waiting there is. Of course, there will be highlights and memories and laughs along the way, but the waiting part pretty much stinks. Just know that it’ll all be worth it. So worth it! And it will.

Tonight's sunset! 
There are many things I love about Haiti.  This is in the top 20.

First Birthday

Today's your first birthday, J.

And you’re there and we’re here.

And my heart needs a band-aid.

I was looking at my calendar this morning. This day last year was a Thursday. The next Monday I’d be starting a new job.  I’d taken the week off to rest and recharge before jumping into a new phase of my career. I remember spring cleaning the house and organizing our pantry and planning what I’d wear each day of the next week. Little did I know that on that day, in a tiny hut in Haiti, a woman was giving birth to a baby boy.  And that baby boy would be my son.  I am so grateful to God for bringing you—and her—into my life. While none of us knew how our paths would cross, God did. The losses and disappointments and complications of life don’t always make sense to us. But we know God loves us and we know He is good. The angels rejoiced when you were born and God has great plans for your life.  It will be an honor and privilege for me to be a part of it. You, precious little one, are so special and so loved!

Haiti Second Adoption Trip Journal (4/2/13-4/7/13): Thinking of Her on Mother's Day

We walked to the covered pavilion next to the playground.

There she was.  Tall and slender. Hair pulled back. High cheekbones. Dark brown, almond-shaped eyes.

HM and J have her eyes.

We embraced. I didn't want to let go.  I cried as I prayed God would give me words to convey my gratitude, respect, compassion and love for her. That He would anoint our conversation and time together. We pulled chairs up next to hers.  Formed a circle with our translator.

She told us some things she wanted the boys to know about her and their stories. She requested that we have them presented at church. We agreed to share those things with HM and J, to have them dedicated and raise them in the church, and to give them all the love we have.  I promised she will always be honored in our home, that her name will fall lovingly and frequently on our boys’ ears, that they will know of her love for them.

Our time together was precious and sacred.  Most of the details will be kept for our sons and not shared here.  It is our hope that it will not be our only meeting with her.  That it only marks the beginning of a lifelong relationship.

D asked if we could pray with her before she left.  She agreed and he prayed. 

As we walked down the gravel path past the office, our girls unexpectedly ran out to meet us. I introduced her to them. They surprised me (and her, too, I’m sure) by surrounding her with a group hug. I saw a twinkle in her eye when she looked down at K. “Adoption” Beverly said as she put her hand on K’s head. “This is the grace and mercy of God,” our boys’ mother replied. 

We watched her walk to the gate of the village.  I don’t know what her heart was feeling, but I pray she felt a sense of peace. Peace that she will not be forgotten. Peace that her sons will be well cared for and loved. She will always be their mother. The brave, tenacious woman who gave them life. The woman who loved them first, loves them still and will love them always.

In so many ways, our lives couldn’t be more different. Yet I am as intimately connected with her as two women can possibly be. Because of two little boys that are sons to us both.

Haiti Second Adoption Trip Journal (4/2/13-4/7/13)

We received IBESR approval (required before an adoption case is filed with the courts) on March 12. The judgment of adoption and registry of the judgment with the Minister of the Interior are what finalizes the adoption on the Haiti side. Adoptive parents are required to appear in court as part of the judicial proceedings. That court appearance was the primary purpose for our trip.

Once the adoption is finalized on the Haiti side, there are additional steps to obtain a child’s Haitian passport and visa to enter the U.S. For the visa, adoptive parents are required to file an I-600 petition and be interviewed by USCIS (any living birth family members are also interviewed separately by USCIS). The Embassy allows parents to schedule an appointment for their filing and interview once they’ve received IBESR approval. That way, their file can be open and waiting when the adoption decree is registered. Many agencies (including ours) arrange for adoptive parents to take care of both the court appearances and the I-600 filing/ interview during the same trip, so that only one additional trip (the final trip to bring their child(ren) home) is necessary. We found out on March 15 that we had a 7:30 a.m. USCIS appointment at the Embassy in Port-au-Prince on April 3. Our Parquet (high court) appearance was scheduled for 2:00 that afternoon.

With school in session, we thought it would be easier to pack an extra suitcase and take our girls along than to delegate school mornings, lunches, homework, agenda signing and extra-curriculars to the grandparents for a whole week. The fact that our girls are flexible, adventurous, obedient little troopers who love to travel certainly makes such decisions easier. It is truly a joy for us to travel with them! We asked their teachers to send some schoolwork so they wouldn’t get behind and we packed our bags and we were off!

When we were researching flights, we discovered the Spirit Airlines flights out of Ft. Lauderdale (about a 4 hour drive south) were so much cheaper than the American Airlines flights out of Tampa (where we usually fly out) that if we’d be willing to make the drive, we could pay for the entire trip (airfare, lodging, food--everything) PLUS cover our hotel for our weekend at Disney for K’s birthday, for LESS than the airfare alone were we to fly out of Tampa. With that kind of savings, we couldn’t resist giving drive + fly thing a whirl for this trip. I have to say it worked out well. The only thing I might do differently would be to take the day before off, drive down leisurely and get some sleep at a hotel close to the airport. Our wanting to work on Monday (and the fact that we waited until Monday evening to pack) made it a little crazy.

Our flight out of FLL was scheduled to depart at 7:15 a.m. Tuesday morning. We planned to get a few hours’ sleep and leave the house around midnight to give ourselves a little time cushion for the drive to the airport. I’m normally not a fan of driving late at night OR of the drive from our house to YeeHaw Junction (think miles and miles of two lanes and tons of semi trucks), but it was all for a good cause and I was sure our pumping adrenaline would keep us awake. D started getting cross-eyed around Lake Wales (literally, he had some sort of vertigo episode which thankfully passed after a bit and didn’t return) so I drove most of the way, keeping myself awake and amused by singing along to the best hits of the 70s, 80s and 90s on the radio. Music from my prime—HaHa! The girls slept the entire trip. We made great time, got a parking spot right next to the elevator, breezed through check-in and security, and had plenty of time to relax with our Dunkin’ Donuts, coffee and chocolate milk while waiting to board.

Watching for our plane.  Ready to go to Haiti!

I read somewhere that most of the passengers on the Spirit Airlines flights into and out of FLL tend to be Haitian and Haitian-American. That was accurate for our flights. There was one other blanc man on our flight to Port-au-Prince and we were the only blanc people on our flight back to Florida. I need to look up whether blanc is the term Haitians use to refer to Caucasian people? Kind of like Muzungu in Zambia or Ferengi in Ethiopia? I know it’s the term the children at our sons’ children’s village use (I’ve heard myself referred to as HM’s “mama blanc”). Anyway, I loved that we were already surrounded by Haitians and hearing kreyol spoken all around us. It reminded me of flying Ethiopian Airlines to Addis—like an appetizer for your destination while you’re still in route.

We got to use the brand new arrivals terminal at Toussaint L’Overture. It wasn’t yet open when we were in Haiti last fall. Everything from the restrooms (you see ALL the restrooms when you travel with three little girls!) to immigration to baggage claim was so nice and clean and shiny. What a welcome! The new terminal is a huge improvement. Rebuilding, restoration and progress is a good first impression for visitors to the country. We breezed through, found our driver and were soon buckling our girls in the van (this was definitely for me the MOST nerve-wracking aspect of taking our girls!) (Haitian drivers are crazy!) (And accidents do happen—we saw a couple fender benders in town and came across some really messed up tap-taps on the side of the road as we drove through the villages) and sitting back to watch them experience Haiti.

We were eager to get our girls’ impressions of their brothers’ country—through their own innocent, filled-with-wonder eyes. We were truly hoping they’d see more beauty than brokenness and that they’d be able to find beauty amidst the brokenness.

Before we left, we told our daughters it was important that they use their best "Queen of England" manners at the Embassy and Court so people would see what sweet and loving sisters the boys would have.  Another thing we told them was that once they were in Haiti, they would be ambassadors for all children of the United States.  We told them that many of the people we would see do not see a lot of American children. If our girls were rude or fussy, those people might think all American children were cross. But if our girls were kind and well-mannered and smiled, they might think good things about American children. Maybe a Haitian previously met a grouchy American and now thought all Americans were that way—perhaps the B Girls could be the ones to change that! Before we travelled, we practiced Bonjou, Bonswa, Sou-play, Merci, Oui and Non. We told them that if people stared or smiled at them, they should look back and return the smile. If they saw a child looking at them, they should smile and wave and say a friendly Bonjou! And to our delight, they did these things all week—and almost always got warm responses from the Haitian people they interacted with! A couple weeks after we got back, Miss M noticed that the woman ringing up our beignets at Disney was from Port-au-Prince (it was on her name badge). That woman’s whole face lit up when M said “Merci!” as she left with her chocolate milk. Being friendly and making an effort can go so far with people!

The ride to the hotel was as bumpy and swervy and horn-honkingy full of “playing chicken” as I remembered. M and A had window seats and looked out intently—taking in every detail. Groups of children in uniforms—girls with big floppy matching bows in their hair—walking proudly to school with books in their arms and hope in their eyes. The future of Haiti.

Image by Briana Payne of Great Minds Think Too Much

Tap-taps and buses full of people—inside, on top and hanging onto the back. People selling all sorts of things on the sidewalks. People dressed in work uniforms and suits. Port-au-Prince was bustling with activity. Hardworking, resilient people.

View from our dashboard.  Note that we were going 50+ mph!

Miss M had to snap a picture of this goat loudly whinny-ing on the back of this moto.
To me, the more surprising and rare thing captured in this photo is that both moto drivers are wearing helmets!  

Our van was approached by several street kids—dressed in rags, begging for handouts. Oh, how they pull my heartstrings. The heaviness was punctuated by a bit of comic relief when one of them looked Miss M in the eye and asked (in English!) if she’d marry him. She giggled and turned red. We passed a large tent city on the outskirts of town. Miss A observed “that’s the seventh un-truck I’ve seen since we’ve been here” (referring to a UN vehicle). There is still work to be done.

We left the city and entered the countryside. Drove over a bridge and saw naked children splashing and swimming in a muddy river beneath us. Random horses, donkeys, cows, dogs, and pigs wandered along the road. The mountains were not as green as they were in November—but they were just as majestic. The grass had turned brown and the air seemed hotter and drier. Reminded me of the landscape in Southern Colorado. Only when I turned my head from the mountains on the right, I saw pristine, postcard-worthy Caribbean beaches on the left. And that water. I’ve never seen water so blue. True royal blue scattered with fishing vessels. Breathtaking.

Ahhh, the gorgeous Haiti coastline!

As we passed through the villages, down the crowded market roads, I looked out and watched the people as they watched us drive through. Miss A, my petite angel-faced 6 year old, had her window open. She must have been an unexpected sight, as I kept seeing people do double-takes and smile and wave at her as we went by. My heart swelled as I watched her smile and wave back—connecting with them and connecting herself to Haiti.

When we got to the resort, we asked the girls what they thought. Miss M said she saw three sad things—a small child crying in the tent city and a lonely-looking man with one leg sitting on a sidewalk. K (who has become much more aware of, or at least much more talkative about, hair and skin color in recent months) observed that “the peoples have brown skin like me.” The big girls suggested that our family move to Haiti. They would continue to make their case for the move all week. Mountains for hiking. Oceans for swimming. Miss M decided that if we don’t relocate to Haiti as a family, she’ll just live on a farm in Haiti when she grows up. Miss A made arrangements to move in with her. They’ll have horses that they’ll teach Haitian children to ride and they’ll grow bananas and mangos. Sounds like a good life to me. Maybe D and I will move in with them.

Pulling into our resort after the ultimate and real Mr. Toad's wild ride!

Once we checked in and freshened up in our bungalow,

K couldn't wait to unpack the Woody-Buzz puzzles!

we walked to the children’s village to meet with Supreme and the new director, Beverly, to discuss our Embassy and court appointments. As Beverly was looking over the paperwork we brought and confirming everything was in order, a familiar little face walked through the door of the office. Our sweet HM who’d grown so much in the 4 months since we’d seen him! He was a little shy but seemed to remember us and smiled as we sing-songed his name. And who was this chunky little guy being carried in by a nanny? Our latest update said he “crawls with great speed” but we didn’t get to see that as he insisted on being carried all week! Baby J came right to me with a big grin on his face—showing off all his new teeth! We all oohed and ahhed and fussed over the boys for a few minutes and then were informed by Beverly that the clerk of the local court was only going to be there for a little while longer so we should head out and take care of that filing right then. We made a split-second decision to leave our girls there with the boys at the village. I propped J up next to Miss M and we headed out. He was not happy about being put down and we could hear him wailing as we hopped in the van with one of the village employees. The first time we ever heard him cry. A while later down the road, we looked at each other and said—did we really just leave our girls at an orphanage in a third world country? It does sound crazy, but it also reflects how comfortable and safe we felt there and how much trust we have in the Holt staff. And it really was for less than an hour, Mama.

It was about a 20 minute drive to the courthouse in Arcahaie. We met with the clerk of court in a tiny office, stacked high with files, papers spilling out of an old file cabinet in the corner, lit by a single bulb hanging from the ceiling. The clerk wrote down a bunch of stuff in a spiral notebook and had us sign under our personal information he’d copied from our passports and drivers licenses.  We spoke briefly with him about Haiti and our trip and that was that. 

We got back to the village office to find J contentedly snuggled up to Miss M and Misses A and K laughing and playing with HM and another little girl from the village. Beverly later told me that J stopped crying within minutes of us leaving and that she’d observed a special bond developing between him and Miss M. It was true. Throughout the week, we noticed a special connection between our oldest daughter and youngest son. She doted on him constantly and wanted to help with everything from bottle-feeding to diaper-changing.

A special bond.  Our oldest and youngest.

We decided to take the kiddos out of the office so the staff could get some work done. We walked out to the playground to swing, slide and try to get some pictures of our Fab Five (5 CHILDREN!!! REALLY????) playing together in Haiti. It was surreal. Other adoptive parents can probably relate to the sense of incompleteness you feel when waiting to bring your child(ren) home. With every good memory and in every great photo, there’s a little sense that someone is missing. Most families don’t get to experience the joy of everyone being together until the end of their journey. We felt so blessed to be able to get a little glimpse of the chaos and completion in store for us when the boys finally come home.

HM capturing his own memories.  A future Big Star photographer?

When the cottage mamas started preparing their houses for dinner, we decided it was a good time for goodbye hugs. It had been a long night+day (though not nearly as long as the next day would seem) and we had to be dressed up and ready for our Embassy and Parquet appointments by 5:30 the next morning. We walked back to the resort, watched the sun set over Gonave Island from our bungalow porch, ate dinner and went to bed—full hearts, full tummies and full of anticipation about what the rest of the week would have in store.

Haiti Second Adoption Trip Journal (4/2/13-4/7/13)

I don’t know where to begin to describe our family's trip to Haiti earlier this month.

There are many little details. . . things I want to remember years from now. . .  that I hope to jot down in the coming days.

And a few life-redefining moments I wouldn’t in a million years forget. . . which are too personal and too interwoven with our children’s stories to share here. . . but that will forever be written on our hearts.
 

Timoun nou yo.  Lavi se bon.

Out of IBESR!

Last week, President Martelly signed off on our adoption and we exited IBESR!  Several other families that entered around the same time we did exited over the last couple of months so we’ve been hopeful that we’d hear good news soon.  Sadly, there are some families that have been stuck in that stage for much longer than us--there seems to be no rhyme or reason in the order of processing.  We still have a bunch more hoops to jump through to get our boys home (I took the time to write them all out HERE) but this is a HUGE step!  It seems that the rest of the steps are a little less mysterious and a little more predictable than IBESR and the President’s desk.  I guess we shall see as we continue on  this great adoption adventure.  Next month, we’ll be making another trip down to Haiti to make our appearances at lower and upper courts and for our I-600 paperwork appointment and interview with the U.S. Embassy.  A 2013 homecoming is looking like a very real possibility!

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.