Happy Birthday to Our Sweet K

Bonn Fèt, Bèl Pitit Fi Nou


Happy birthday, our beautiful daughter. 
Today, our littlest one turns three. She's still in Haiti, we're still in Seattle, and my heart is somewhere in between. I don't have any updates to share about when we'll be able to bring her to her new home, but I needed a space to process some of my thoughts and emotions around this.

I remember when Eisley turned three: we had a small party at our old house, with just family. It was sweltering, and the icing on her celebratory cupcake was sliding off, but she didn't mind--probably because she was wearing a birthday crown. I don't remember the exact gifts she received, but it's likely she was given books, puzzles, and imaginative play toys for her budding brain and imagination. 

Today, it's likely that K's birthday will pass quietly. Here, we will be celebrating "with her" from afar. Eisley is excited to sing happy birthday (let's be honest, she's excited to sing anything), and we'll probably enjoy a treat for K. We'd be honored if you celebrated with us, however you'd like and wherever you are!

As we began approaching the holiday season this year, it became clear that we would not be traveling to Haiti to pick-up K in time to celebrate her birthday, Thanksgiving, or (in all likelihood) Christmas in her new home. Against all advice, we have been holding our breath, thinking that November was our miracle month, and we'd be bringing her home before ringing in the new year. 
Here's why November has been such an important month for us:
-Almost exactly one year ago (November 28, 2017), we flew to Haiti to meet K for the first time.
-One year before that, November of 2016, Justin and I took a vacation to Boston and saw a little girl in an email, and just knew it was our daughter. Spoiler alert: it was! (I wrote more about that during that time, in this post.)
-One year before that, November of 2015, we had just been accepted into the adoption program with our agency, and officially began this winding journey. 

So, you can see why we were praying that November of 2018 would be when we'd get to the turn page, and begin writing the next chapter together.

Some Thoughts about Gifts and Things

The other vein of thought I've been mulling on is related to adoption, but also related to parenting in general. 

Over the past couple of years, we've been slowly gathering items that will be just for K: bright clothes for all seasons (think of the weather she hasn't experienced yet!), books starring strong girls and characters that look like her, a soft doll, warm blankets, small puzzles and toys. In the crèche, the kids aren't really able to have anything that is "just theirs". Essentially everything becomes a shared item, and we observed that this meant that toys and books were often hoarded and/or fought over. Because of this, things were often quickly broken and abandoned. We take for granted that playing and learning to take care of things are learned behaviors, and the reality is that this isn't a priority in the crèche. To be clear, this isn't intended as a criticism, this is just one of the many difficult realities that we experienced.

We also know how easy it is to take for granted our access to "stuff". The age of Amazon and fast fashion makes it easy to choose from a wide variety of things, get them quickly, and then discard/replace/get more. In my opinion, this lessens the value and appreciation, and can quickly turn us into "thing monsters". We're trying very hard to raise our family by building traditions, especially around the holidays, that center around service to others and giving, to try and balance against the overwhelming noise of the consumerist culture in which we live. But, I digress. 

I share this because we are in a unique position to introduce K to ALL OF THE THINGS, but feel a responsibility to be thoughtful in how we do this for her. I'll note that we are actively trying to do this with E too, but there is a unique difference between the two girls in this vein, based on their early upbringings. In our adoption journey, we've learned that too much (too much stuff, too many sensory offerings, too many experiences too fast) can be very overwhelming. So, while it's tempting to smother K in toys and trips and things, we'll need to be aware and take it slowly. And, just like any parent raising kids realizes that you can't raise all of your kids in the same way, we know that just because K is not far behind E in biological age, her development won't be the same as E's was at three years old. It will be thrilling to continue to introduce her to chunky wood puzzles, crayons and paints, and imaginative play toys, and watch her learn and express curiosity, and grow!


Jwaye nwèl, zanmi ak fanmi

Merry Christmas (and happy holidays), friends and family. Justin just brought up the Christmas tree and all of the accoutrements from the storage under the house, and Eisley is dancing around the house with glee, ready to decorate. I'm going to pour myself a cup of coffee and try to soak in the warmth of the season. Love to you and yours.

Adoption Decree, Adoption Certificate, and Article 23!

On August 29th, we received an email confirming that our Adoption Decree had been completed. The Decree shows that we are officially K's parents, and she has been given our last name. I don't think words can express how special it was to see this in writing. About one month later, the Adoption Certificate was sent to us; yet another official document with official signatures indicating our approved adoption. These were two huge steps, and continued to move our paperwork forward through Haiti, towards the finish line. With both of these documents, there was still no clarity on when we'd get to bring K home. To be frank, I didn't have the heart to publicly say this again, which is why I've delayed publishing this post. So, we've continued our patient wait, enjoying the gorgeous conclusion of summer in Seattle, and the colorful turning of leaves. Eisley moved into her pre-K class recently, and we've watched her continue to flourish and grow. It's funny how life keeps moving along, minute by minute, despite part of your heart being 3,400 miles away.

Justin and I arrived back home yesterday after an amazing week away celebrating our 10th year of marriage. We flew into Liverpool and spent a few days wandering the city, marveling at the strange Giants, touring the bombed out church and the Tate, and, of course, watching Liverpool FC take on Man City at Anfield. Then, we hopped a flight to Rome and spent a few more days eating ourselves silly and walking miles upon miles to see the sights. (Three simple words: cacio e pepe). We stayed in an adorable walk-up apartment that overlooked a courtyard and a cobblestone through-road. Each morning, we threw open the old wooden shutters and enjoyed a rich espresso in the window before heading out for the day.

I am so grateful to have gotten this quiet time with Justin, just the two of us. As we were talking about this trip a few months ago, we knew it was possible this was our last "big trip" together for some time, with the adoption impending. There has also been some turmoil at work recently, so it was well-timed for us to step away, re-center, and soak up some time together. How blessed we are. 

When we arrived in Liverpool, I told Justin, "For some reason, I feel like we'll hear an update about K while we're on this vacation."

Funny how these things work, because one day later, we received an email from our agency indicating that our paperwork had moved to the Ministry of Justice. These last steps are the most unclear to me, to be honest. We know that there is a series of signatures and checkpoints. We know that our paperwork goes through the Ministry of Justice (MOJ) and also Ministry of Interior (MOI). There is an application for her passport, and another visa appointment, and then we should be done. However, how long each of these takes and in which order is fuzzy. 

A day after the MOJ email, we received a second update: our Article 23 was issued on 10/4, certifying that the adoption has appropriately met Hague Convention procedures. This is another huge sign-off, and up next will be that visa appointment at the Embassy! 
Based strictly on the recent families who've finished their adoptions, our agency's best estimate is anywhere from ~1.5 to 4 months for these last steps to be completed. This means that we could be booking our trip to fly back to Haiti and bring our little girl home. Please pray for quick processing, safety through the hurricane season, and hopefully the next update you'll see from us is our homecoming plan! 

A couple of other things on my heart:

• There was a meeting held recently where IBESR shared updates on a recent evaluation of the 700+ orphanages/creches in Haiti to ensure they're meeting expectations. This will apparently lead to many orphanage closures, updates, and a focus on family reunification and foster care. There is a lot that I don't know about this, and much to be fleshed out and implemented. Adoptin is not always the right solution, and it is encouraging to see Haiti continuing to evaluate how to funnel resources to support children in the right ways.
• One of the amazing girls we met at K's creche is a super intelligent, kind, spitfire 7 year old. We knew that a family had been trying to seek a referral for her, and recently learned that they were denied. She is considered a "Waiting Child", and our agency is advocating for her placement right now. My heart has been hurting for her, as we can see her flourishing, and know she will continue to do so when she gets to her home. I truly wish our circumstances were different, and we could seek her as well. I'm praying that she is able to be matched soon.

Our Second Trip

It's been nearly a month since we returned from our second trip to Haiti, and I'm still waking up at odd times in the middle of the night, briefly thinking I'm lying in the quiet dark of the creche guest house in Kenscoff. I should start by noting that we don't have any updates on our timeline to bring K home. This trip didn't provide any insight into that, and we are still waiting (anxiously, impatiently) to hear about when our documents will finish their march through the court system, and when we get in line for a Visa and Passport (meaning, almost homecoming time!) 

This trip was very short (Thursday night-Monday afternoon, including travel), and not nearly enough time with our love, but was the amount of time we could both get away from work right now. Fortunately, we found that we were able to easily slide back into the daily routine we'd established on our bonding trip last winter. 

When we arrived back on the grounds, we were met with a solemn-faced K. We typically receive one picture of her each month along with a brief "status report" of her health and developmental growth, which doesn't vary much month to month. Based on those pictures, we have been slowly watching her grow from afar, but it was wonderful to see in person how her little legs had grown taller, and her healthy glow remained. When we first peeked into the room she lives in, it was post-lunch potty time, and many of the the kids were running around squealing and giggling. We tried to observe K for a moment without her seeing us, but the nannies quickly spotted us and handed her off (which is so jarring). We do think she recognized us, but the grins we'd seen a moment before turned into a set jaw and inquisitive (and suspicious) glare, which remained for most of the rest of our time in-country. I was even surprised to find that bringing out snacks was not a go-to way to re-engaging with K, as it had been last year! (Smart decision, my little love!)

To be clear, we did not expect K to run to us with open arms and be immediately joyful to see us again. That's just not her personality (thus far)! It's also not fair to expect this from such a wee one, after so many months away, and in such an environment. 

Over the few days we were there, we spent time with K and all of the kids, and were excited to get to reconnect with many of the kids we so cherished from our first trip. K warmed up to us for brief moments, mostly just before nap time and bedtime. But, we didn't have enough time to fall back into a solid routine with her. She was not interested in one-on-one time, playing and coloring up in the classroom, like we did daily on our bonding trip. It was disappointing, but we were grateful to soak up every moment with her and the other kids. We spent most of the days on the play field with the whole group, where we brought out the big legos, blocks, and building toys for the kids to play with and share. It was during this time that K would "allow" us to sit with her, play a bit with her, and be silly. She wasn't interested much in sitting in our laps, like she used to, but I can also very easily chalk this up to her being a 2.5 year old, striving for her independence. (That's my girl!) During play time, we were thrilled to see developmental growth: she was able to push together big legos on her own (and would also play with me by handing me the toys, asking me to put them together, and then taking them back and pulling them apart again); run around independently on the field; and even identify when she needed to go potty! 

A funny side note; the most grins and giggles I saw from K were during potty time. The creche's potty-training and toilet time method is very interesting. Directly following breakfast and lunch, all of the kids in K's room were stripped of their pants and sat on a plastic potty chair. They sat here for nearly an hour each go before they were cleaned up and clothed again. Because this was such a long period of time, the kids get a little stir-crazy, and it's kind of hilarious. If you wandered into the room during this time, you were bound to see the kids hollering, tossing their shoes at each other, laughing their little heads off, and, eventually, running full-bore around the room, tiny naked butts abound. It was a smelly time of day. For some reason, K would open up a bit during potty time, and she'd participate in all of the loud and raucous silliness occurring. We would peek in to see her brilliant and slightly devious smile, because we didn't get to see that much during other times.

Overall, we didn't hear much from K during this trip. We did hear moments of her very tiny voice, but it seemed as though she was not interested in communicating verbally much. She clearly hears others and responds to questions and directions, but where many of the kids were babbling, teasing, and hollering, she was not apt to join in. I don't know that this is a concern, but for now, just an observation we noted.

Speaking of speaking: The weekend prior to our trip, Justin and I were finally able to participate in a Haitian Creole bootcamp, led by the inimitable Gloria. Anyone who is interested in learning Creole will come across a handful of reputable and thorough resources, Gloria being one of the big ones. We've been working (painfully slowly) through her curriculum since our first trip, but I will be the first to admit that learning another spoken language is very challenging for me. I also recognize that I've been allowing this statement to be an excuse, blocking my energy and motivation. Taking part in a three-day intensive bootcamp with Gloria and a handful of others was incredibly impactful and helpful in growing some of our language skills and understanding of the structure and application of Creole. Because of this, we felt just a tiny bit more comfortable in our communication on this trip, more equipped to express ourselves and connect with the nannies and children. The driver, director, and a couple of the nannies even recognized our (again, very minor) improvement, and it helped us to continue to build relationships. We have a long way to go, but being the foreigners in-country, we recognize that we are responsible for learning the language and culture of Haiti, as opposed to expecting that everyone meet us where we are and speak English. We feel a great sense of responsibility to ensure that K's heritage is present and recognized in our home and in her upbringing, and this is one of many important facets of that! (Plus, it's an amazing, rich language, and just really cool to learn.)

One of the more difficult parts of our trip was saying goodbye to one of the creche's founders and directors, L. As shared in a previous post, we knew that he was very ill, and seeking treatment in the States. Shortly after that post, we learned that the treatment was not successful, and L had returned home to Haiti, to live out his days in peace, surrounded by family, friends, and the beauty of his home country. We were not honestly sure if we would make it back to Haiti in time to see him again, and even if we did, if we would be able to spend any time with him. When we first arrived, we were able to speak with L on the phone, and he said he would plan for us to visit during our time at the creche. The driver, Roberto, let us know that L was "doing okay". 
Likely due to L's illness, and G's sabbatical to care for him, we noticed a few small differences in our stay at the creche. Among these, our meals were slightly different, and the electricity was not as stable, so we experiences periods of time where we did not have electricity in our room.
Roberto returned on Monday to take us to the airport, and we were pleasantly surprised to hear that we would be able to stop and visit with L before proceeding to Port au Prince. L had clearly gone out of his way to rise from bed to see us, and despite his pain and discomfort, proceeded to act as the welcoming and kind host he has always been. We kept our visit short, and it is a memory I will always hold in my heart. After we returned to the States, we learned that L was no longer able to accept visitors, and he passed away shortly after, returning home to the Lord. I don't think I can truly express the gratitude I have for L and G, and for the many, many lives they have touched so deeply. We are so blessed to have known him.

I'll leave you on this lighter memory: On the first day of our trip, we saw enormous buckets of ripe yellow mangoes carried into the creche, and each day following, the kids were each given an entire mango to enjoy. It was a sticky mess, but I've never seen a happier bunch of kids, sitting in the sunshine, devouring the sweet fruit. (Hot tip: you may use this as a torture mechanism on Justin. He cannot handle sticky hands.) They were experts at cleaning out the fruit, from skin to pit, and this was one of many times that I took pause to reflect on the simple joys in life. We have so much to be grateful for, and so often feel burdened by the fray of work, raising E, daily routines, etc., and get caught up in the complaints and stress. But (and if you know me, you'll hear me say this often, semi-jokingly), boy are these FIRST WORLD PROBLEMS. To return to Haiti and the creche reminds me that there are much greater things in this world to care for, worry about, and direct our passion towards.

My challenge to you: Next time you find yourself annoyed by traffic, or when your Amazon Prime order arrives later than you wanted, or when you can't find your cell phone...just stop for a moment. Open your eyes and look around you. Reflect on all of the good you have. Express gratitude. Recognize the pain or needs of others. And, most importantly, give.

Our Bonding Trip: Part Two

Bonjou zanmi!

We're settling into the swing of a hot and busy summer here. May brought Mother's Day, June brought my birthday and Father's Day, July will bring Eisley's birthday, Gloria's Haitian Creole boot camp, and a trip to see K again! We are missing our little love like crazy, so have booked a (very quick) trip back to Haiti at the end of July. We'll again stay at the creche, wake up with the roosters, and spend the days playing, cuddling, and feeding K snacks. (This is the current way to her heart and one of many reasons why I know she is my girl.)

I'm counting down the days until we get to squeeze her again, and I admit that (among many emotions) I'm feeling nervous. How much will she recognize or remember us? Will we have to rebuild our connection from scratch, and spend the entire trip working to reestablish trust and comfort? Will the nannies continue to laugh at our poor attempts at Creole? (Just kidding. This one is a given, and that is okay. We're working on it.) 

I realized that in the midst of our busy days, I've fallen off the blogging train. I've even had a draft percolating since we came home from our bonding trip last December about some of day to day experiences in Haiti. In all honesty, it took so much energy and emotion to process the experience, let alone refine it into consumable words, that I've not been able to go back and finish that particular draft. However, in thinking about actually being back in country again, I wanted to dust it off. 

-------------------------------------

If you want to put yourself back into the scene again, go back to Our Bonding Trip: The Arrival and Our Bonding Trip: Connecting with K.



A few memories from how we passed the days on our bonding trip last year:

As we settled into the creche, it took some time for us to find a routine or sense of normalcy. Two weeks is a long time to be in one place, let alone in a small orphanage tucked away on a remote mountainside in Haiti. The surrounding area was breathtaking. We had a small deck behind our bedroom with just enough space for two chairs and a table that overlooked the mountain and surrounding foothills. During the kid's nap time or when the sun went down, Justin and I spent time sitting here, decompressing. Reading, writing, listening to music or podcasts, or just gazing down at the valley below, it was a small space away from the chaos of the day. 

In the morning, children who lived in small shacks in the valley climbed up the hillside to walk to school. Goats grazed on the brambles here throughout the day. In the evenings, the sounds of parties drifted up the mountainside, bonfires crackling. 

After waking in the mornings, we took turns running (almost literally) through the cold, slimy shower. The bathroom was fed by a water reservoir above the building, and at times it collected a thick, dark green algae. On lucky days, the trickle of shower water slowed more than usual, and unexpectedly spit out chunks of algae. A free spa experience! 

We were fed our meals away from the children in the classroom that overlooked the playfield. Typically we ate before the kids, so as soon as we'd downed our food, we would hurry back to K's room and help with the feeding/entertaining/dressing. (Really, we tried to assist with whatever we could, however we could insert ourselves.) During our first week in the creche, K was still in the infant/waddler room, so the help seemed mildly appreciated. During our second week, when she moved into the toddler/preschool-aged room, the little ones were expected to feed themselves. It was challenging to watch this transition, from no autonomy (in fact, they were discouraged from using their own utensils in the littles room, perhaps because of how slow and messy it was, and it was hard for me to adapt to that) to total autonomy at meal time. 

We passed the days with K and the other children playing and sitting, mostly on the play field. Once K was semi-comfortable with us, we scooped her up and spent a couple of hours with just her in the classroom space. This allowed us some time away from the fray of all of the children, connecting with her individually in a quiet space. It was clear at first that she was not sure yet how to play. Blocks, crayons, playdough - it all seemed foreign. This was a good reminder to us that in this environment, with so many children and only so many hands to go around, one-on-one learning time was just not possible. But with some time and patience, we saw the most incredible strides, even to the point where she could mimic us pushing a paintbrush around on a canvas or stacked up blocks and then gleefully crashed them down, like any other two year old. Each activity lasted mere minutes, but each minute of play gave us a tantalizing peek into her growing, hungry, capable brain. On a few of the days, she was overly tired and not interested in playing, and I was able to rock her to sleep. I feel teary now thinking about her napping in my arms, her soft snores and hot breath on my neck. These are the delicious moments.

After she grew bored with us, and our small bag of snacks was not enough to distract any longer, we'd take K down to the field where the other children were sitting or playing. I may have mentioned it before, but this had been built not long before we arrived, and it is an integral space for them to play safely together. I can hardly imagine what they did before it was there, and feel so grateful for all of the hard work others put into creating this space. The kids were down there for many hours each day, and the first few days moved slowly. Then, we learned to bring down a bag of big legos, blocks, and soft toys from the classroom space and dump them on the field. The first day or two, this led to total chaos: they did not know how to share or play together. But, kids are remarkably smart, and they soon learned to (mostly) disperse the toys and the bags they'd come down in. These, a small tricycle, and a couple of soccer balls passed the afternoons in the sunshine. K would usually sit contentedly on or near one of us, hoarding a pile of legos, and screeching when friends tried to take them from her. I think I was chanting pataje (share) and pa jete (do not throw) in my sleep.


Lunch was served, and the littles were quickly put down for naps. Sadly, there was very little play time between nap, dinner, and bedtime, but we found spaces of time that we could slip in and be silly with the kids, or bring K outside of her room to play with us and a few soft books in the setting light.


When the noise of the children crying became overwhelming, we would leave the creche grounds for our daily walk. I'm not a great estimate of distance, but our walks took us over the winding, pothole littered roads back to the main road; maybe 30 minutes each way? Part of our walk was dusty and desolate, part of it was verdant and populated. We'd practice our Bonjou! or Bonswa! as we passed groups of children in their school uniforms, families sitting outside of their small homes, or motorbikes taxiing passengers to and fro. More than once, brave school children darted out to practice their English with us. One afternoon, a little girl clamped onto my hand and held on, staring up at me with wide eyes down the long path home, while her two girlfriends stared and giggled. We were clearly a foreign sight, a novelty, and it was humbling.

We got into a regular routine of walking down the mountain to a particular bend in the road where we could pause and sit on the wall built next to the road and look down over the valley and all of Port au Prince. It was gorgeous. At times we could watch fog and clouds roll over the hillside, shrouding the city. We could almost taste the precipitation hovering in the air. I don't think I would have made it through the two weeks without these walks that broke up our days and allowed us some respite together.

On the second week of the trip, when the second couple came to the creche, we'd sometimes walk together. The wife of this duo has spent time working in Haiti, and was much more comfortable in making her way around. On our treks, we wandered by what appeared to be a small store front, a small wooden building with items stacked on shelves. Outside, locals often sat around tables or a small grill, drinking and throwing dice. With her additional knowledge and confidence, our new friend recognized that we could purchase bottles of dusty, cold Prestige, the local beer, from the shop. Amusingly, one evening, we had dinner at the director's home, and director L slyly mentioned that he'd heard we had enjoyed a Prestige the prior evening. "I have eyes everywhere." he commented and laughed. 

-------------------------------------

Baby girl, we know from the few pictures we've seen that you are growing and changing every day. We miss you so, and will be there soon. Nou renmen ou, manman ak papa

Marching On

I've been feeling a bit down lately when thinking about K and the adoption. This morning at the gym, for no particular reason I can identify, a wave of emotion came over me, and I found myself fighting back tears. Is she okay? Is she missing us? I have these moments of intense feelings every so often, and to recover I'll hold E extra tight, scroll through the well-worn album of pictures and videos we captured while in country, and just try to pause to breathe deeply, reflect, and pray over K. There are also a few songs I keep turning to, that, while a bit on the sad side, help center me in my thoughts about her. I've linked them here. They're great songs in general, and a good addition to your playlists!

Timshel, Mumford and Sons
But you are not alone in this
And you are not alone in this
As brothers we will stand and we'll hold your hand
Hold your hand
Rivers and Roads, The Head and the Heart
Rivers and roads
Rivers and roads
Rivers 'til I reach you

Rise Up, Andra Day (Thank you, Kate!)
I'll rise like the day
I'll rise up
I'll rise unafraid
I'll rise up
And I'll do it a thousand times again
And I'll rise up
High like the waves
I'll rise up
In spite of the ache
I'll rise up
And I'll do it a thousands times again
For you
For you
For you...

Where we're at, 4 months post-bonding trip

I800 Conditional Approval
Last month, we had a heart-stopping moment when we received a dread-pink-slip "RFE" (request for evidence) asking for a key document. This was something that we had understood was already turned in, and I panicked, sure that this would topple the whole tenuous process over. (PS: Just like you should not Google medical symptoms and self-diagnose, you should not Google RFE results. Lesson learned.) Fortunately, the orphanage was able to help quickly locate it, and the I800 hiccup was not prolonged too much. Not long after, our conditional approval of our I800 application arrived in the mail, and we were able to check one more box on this long list of steps. Essentially, this document is the US government affirmation that we will be allowed to deem K as our 'relative' and bring her into the country. This also kicks-off of the next steps in Haiti. After the I800, we began waiting for a Visa appointment to be scheduled at the US Embassy in Haiti. We received the invitation for this not long after, and those who we have granted power of attorney in Haiti were able to attend on our behalf. 

Article 5
Just a couple of days later (2/28), we received confirmation that this meeting went as planned, and we received our Article 5! As we continue to impatiently wade through this sea of paperwork, seeing this official looking document with a stamp of approval and seal from the embassy in Port au Prince felt like such a win.  
Article 5 is the document that informs IBESR in Haiti that the US government is satisfied with the documentation presented so far. When this is completed, K will be issued a US visa to enter the country and automatically become a US citizen. 

Exiting IBESR, and Beyond
Now, we are waiting to receive an authorization letter that we have "exited IBESR"; i.e. the court process in Haiti may begin. This may take a few weeks, or a couple of months. We also understand that when we exit IBESR, we may not actually receive notification until some time after.  Then, we proceed through a series of gates in the Haitian courts. Once we get into the system, the process may go "quickly" (a month or two?), but waiting in this virtual line to get into the system may take anywhere from 3-7 months more. When we start progressing through these court steps, we will share more of what we learn. In a rough estimate (like, close your eyes spin around twelve times throw a dart at a moving target estimate), we may get to travel back to Haiti to pick up K by the end of 2018. That is if all goes smoothly, of course (no political unrest, government shut-downs or shortages, power outages, lack of passport booklets, broken down motorbikes, dreaded RFE's, etc.).

In the meantime, we are hoping to go back for a visit this summer. We have waffled back and forth on this, to be honest, because we have some fears that this will be too hard on K. The children in the creche are quite accustomed to the routine of parents arriving for their bonding trip, leaving for a time, and then returning to pick them up. We worry that she will think we are coming back to bring her home, and be even more heart-broken when we leave (again) without her.  On the other hand, it would give us that much more time connecting with her in her home-country, soaking in experiences of her upbringing, her nannies, and her friends, as well as continuing to connect with her. And, I am missing her so desperately right now, that if I could hop on a flight tomorrow, I would. 
We had initially been told we could go back to visit any time after we completed our bonding trip. However, our agency shared a couple of months ago that there is apparently a rule that you cannot return to visit until you exit IBESR. It was not being enforced in the past, but, just our luck, they are starting to see it be enforced. We don't want to put anything at risk, so will wait (impatiently) for the exit letter. 

Another piece of this complex puzzle is that one of the two directors of the creche, L, has fallen quite ill. L and his wife (the other director) are currently residing in the States, so that he can receive medical treatment, and we are deeply concerned for his health and their well-being. This creche, their technical school, and so many children's lives would not be the same without the incredibly hard work and love that they have poured out, and we pray that he may heal quickly and return home. 

In the meantime, we are grateful to receive a small snippet about K each month--a brief update on her health and well-being, and a picture. In last month's picture, we can already see that she has grown. Her intense and demonstrative eyes were shining. She was not frowning (as she's been in all of her past pictures), but not quite smiling. 

Oh, love, we miss you so. 

Our Bonding Trip: Connecting with K

Bonjou zanmi!

When we began this adoption journey, over two years ago, we very quickly saw a theme emerge in our training, reading, and conversations: bonding and attachment with an adopted child, particularly a child coming from difficult places, who has experienced trauma, who has spent significant time in an institutional setting, is hard. This is actually a supreme understatement, which deserves its own post/series/lifelong discussion. However, I note this here briefly because as we prepared to finally meet our little girl, the feelings we experienced were so different from the feelings I remember having with Eisley. 

When I was nearing the end of my pregnancy with Eisley, I recall feeling nervous and excited about her arrival. I remember worrying about the birth process and nursing and getting her home safely in her car seat. I completely took for granted the fact that she would come out, lay upon my chest, and gaze deeply into my eyes and soul; an immediate and visceral connection. From then on, I've rarely had to worry about her feelings of security and connection. She is a child who gives and receives love with joy and abundance. 

On our way to meet K, I was incredibly excited to be so close to holding her in my arms. I knew I wanted to soak up every moment with her that I possibly could, so that we had something to hold onto while we waited for her to come home. In tandem, I also felt overrun with so many other emotions that I struggled with sorting them all out. I was nervous that she wouldn't look like the picture we'd seen (I have no idea why). I was fearful that she would reject and despise us. I was anxious that it would be obvious to everyone around us that we were not her parents, and we had no business being there. It is painful for me to write these thoughts down now, and I feel ashamed. These are not the feelings you should be having when meeting your new child! 

As shared in my last post, it took a few days for K to feel comfortable around us. She would cry when I picked her up, desperately looking around for her trusted nannies. When I was able to soothe her enough to be settled in my arms, she would then buck at me if I tried to make any changes. If I was sitting when she finally calmed, how dare I stand up! If she was content with me holding her while we stood overlooking the play field, she would have a fit if I tried to carry her down onto the field near her friends. Over the first few days of this, I felt embarrassed at being unable to calm her (even though I knew that this was normal for our brand-new relationship!). A few days into our stay, G, the female director of the creche came to visit. 

Now, as a separate note, we noticed that when visitors such as the directors or social worker arrived, things very quickly snapped into routine.The nannies and nurses have an incredibly taxing job, caring for so many children. However, it wasn't uncommon for the kids to sit in their nursery table for long periods of time, or sit on the play field without any toys during the afternoon play hours. We carved out our niche here, and jumped in to lend a hand with keeping the kids active and engaged. With the help of the other couples, we began bringing books and toys out to the kids. It was incredible to see the kids flourish and begin to learn to play and share with each other.

When G heard that we were feeling challenged with our initial connection with K, she said she'd come visit and talk with K, and "give her blessing". She and K have always had a special connection, and K is her little princess. We later learned why, but I'll save that for another day. When G arrived at the creche, Justin and I were sitting with K in the sunshine, having just settled her. I was remiss to move, because I knew she'd get upset again if I did. K watched G approach, and G held out her arms for K to come to her. In the first few days, as soon as a nanny held out their arms to K, she leaped away from me and went to them. This happened enough that I burst into tears one afternoon, feeling exhausted and frustrated. This day, though, K balked, whined, and leaned back into me; she chose not to go to G. I was surprised and not quite sure how to react. G smiled and nodded. "She is already bonding with you." 

While we know that attachment and bonding will take time, deliberate thought, and patience, I felt such a sense of relief hearing this said aloud, particularly from someone so close to K. We know that there is no quick way to start the attachment and bonding process, and no promise that it will happen in a specific order or timeline. Nonetheless, I tucked this moment into my heart, and it honestly helped me through some of the other challenges we faced. 

G talked with the three of us for a little while, and then we all traipsed down to the play field to play with all of the kids, who were overjoyed to see her. G is an incredible woman with amazing stories and experiences. I grew to look up to her over our time in country, and seeing her in her element, loving on these kids, still warms my heart in ways I cannot describe. Carrying K, as we got closer to the field, I held my breath, waiting for her to get upset at the change. She let me walk down the steps, but when I went to sit down near her friends (with her still in my arms!), she threw a fit. I quickly tried to stand up, talking with her, to calm her, but she continued to cry and squirm. G picked up on this immediately and came over, talking to K and gently scolding her for the tantrum. She turned to J and I and laughed about her toddler behavior. K eventually calmed and while she continued to pout, she warmed up to playing with blocks, even sitting on her own (while still checking back in with me every so often). In other words, she was fine. 

As the days went on, we learned that this was just a facet of K's personality: she is in fact a normal two-year old who wants to exercise control over her situation, and if she isn't getting her way, she has a tantrum! It was amazing that this felt like a revelation to us, but for some reason it took G's reminder to help us let go of some of our anxiety about connecting with K. These behaviors were (are) part of the bonding process. K began to express her emotions further with us; joy and silliness, envy and possessiveness (often over food and my attention). K was allowing us in, testing and exploring boundaries. I've never been more excited to experience toddler mood swings!

I'd love to say that the rest of our time was all sunshine and rainbows, but of course that is not reality. During our two weeks with her, I am proud of the strides we made connecting, and am so grateful, as I know that not every family has this experience. We carved out a routine with her each day, and were amazed to watch her learn how to paint, methodically feed herself, and play. She clicked more with me, though, than with Justin. It was not unexpected that she would favor one of us (if either of us), and we noticed quickly that there are very few men around the orphanage, making him even more foreign to K. This was very hard on him. 

Looking ahead, it is going to be a strange experience for K (understatement of a lifetime) to leave the creche and learn to be a part of a family. Can you even imagine how scary and foreign this would be? Stepping onto an airplane, when the only place you've been outside of your orphanage were sporadic hospital visits? Being shown your own bedroom, when all you've ever known was a communal space? Getting all-day access to a pantry and fridge full of new foods, when you've only ever been served a limited array of foods in a small dish? These are a mere few things that will be new and exciting and overwhelming for K, and we ask that you practice patience with us as we help K work through new experiences and the feelings that will come with them. This will take space, and time, and understanding. 

I know that we have a lot of work to do when K comes home, to build and bolster our relationships. I also know that it is very possible we'll have to start from the beginning with her when we see her again. And that is okay, because I have known the spark and love inside of her, our little girl.

Our Bonding Trip: The Arrival

I'm feeling ready to dive into writing about our bonding trip now. Let's see how far I get without writing a novel in one post (as I'm apt to do).

If adopting as a married couple, Haiti requires both parents to travel on both the bonding trip (also referred to as the socialization trip) and the pickup trip. The bonding trip is a minimum of two weeks, and pickup is a minimum of one week. 

We knew that being away for more than two weeks would be challenging. I've never been in one place for that long, let alone one place with such high emotional stakes involved. We had been discussing whether or not to bring Eisley on the trip, and ultimately decided that it would be too much unknown for her, on top of it being a big impact on her routine. We are so fortunate to have two sets of grandparents nearby who adore her and we were able to put together a care calendar (literally) for her and Dublin the pug. 

Looking back, I'm glad we made this decision. The experience living in K's creche was a fantastic experience, overall. But, the trip into Haiti, the drive to the creche, and the emotions we rocketed through would have been very hard for her little 3.5 year old body. Heck, they were hard on my over-30 year old body. I very much look forward to times in the future when we can take her to visit her sister's home country, but feel grateful we were able to spend this unique time together with K, and work through it together as a couple.

The drive

Upon arriving in Port au Prince (by way of overnight flight to Miami), we were met with heat, throngs of people hollering outside of the airport, and an incredible driver, who works for the organization who oversees the creche and a school a few hours away. The directors, a married couple that we'll call L & G, later told us that while they employ a few drivers, he is the only one they trust with families and the children. We soon learned why--the commute out of PAP and up into the mountainside was a maze full of honking and unbidden merging. We marveled at the novelty of the one stoplight we saw the whole time. However crazy it felt as a passenger, though, the large number of cars, motorbikes piled high with passengers or produce, and colorfully painted buses (called tap taps) were able to navigate it all in a totally cohesive manner. It's awesome. 

We had been told the number one item to pack with us was our patience, and the first drive proved this advice to be accurate. My first image of PAP was of streets lined with rubble and street vendors on top of one another, selling wares ranging from westernized clothing, to brightly colored art, to produce, raw chicken, and shrimp (sitting in the sun). On the slow wind through the city (after a couple of stops at stores, because the organization is not able to run errands in the city regularly, so make the best of each trip), we soaked in the experience. Later talking to Director L, I mentioned that we still saw the impacts of the 2010 earthquake and other natural disasters, and asked if it was very challenging for the city to rebuild.
"No, not very difficult," he said, pausing, "It is impossible."
We learned that based on a lack of insurance on buildings and businesses, their organization had lost multiple buildings in the earthquake--flattened--and thus lost large amounts of income, which they would never recover. This is not an unusual story, and while I recognize that I've only seen a small sliver of the experience of this third world country, my heart aches for the trauma and unimaginable loss these disasters create. We come from a country so rich in so much, and in so many ways take this for granted. But, I digress; another topic for another day.

As we began to ascend the mountain, the landscape shifted to verdant green valleys, with farm land scattered throughout. Families lived in an eclectic mix of shacks, broken-down/half-built buildings, and large, gated homes. I could feel the air grow thinner, and about an hour and a half outside of PAP, we turned off onto the last mile of road, which was largely unpaved. Some of this was covered in chunky gravel, but overall, we bumped through winding pothole after large hole after giant divot until we reached the creche. It was one part hilarity, and one part teeth jarring. The directors recommended that we arrive before nightfall, and now we could see why: traversing these roads in the dark would be a whole new adventure! (Which, I should add, we did on another night. Oh, and we also rode the whole drive of PAP to the creche in the bed of a truck on another night. That was enough adventure for me for a few years, thank you very much.)

The creche 

After pulling into the creche, we saw two other white people who waved hello and said they would introduce themselves later. (Side note: we were the minority our whole trip, obviously, and we stood out like sore thumbs. SO humbling!) We later learned this was K & J, a couple from the midwest, who was one week into their bonding trip with a spunky little girl. 

The lead nurse came to greet us and took us to meet K. K's room, the nursery, housed around 15 cribs for kids ranging from infancy to about two years old. Many of the toddlers, all clad in cozy footie pajamas, were standing in their cribs, babbling, chanting, and rocking. K's "mama nanny" (whom she's been closest to since she came into the creche) lifted her from her crib and carried her over to us, they told K something like "Here is your mama and dada, they love you very much" over and over, and tried to put her in my arms. K promptly threw a fit. I was aching to hold this sweet child, but I did not blame her for her reaction, and instead sat down on the floor with her, allowing space. I cannot imagine the feeling of confusion and pressure for this sweet two year old, being told these two strangers are her mama and dada and being expected to understand and agree. We knew we'd have work ahead of us to gain K's trust and begin to connect with her, and our agency had even warned us that while trip is intended for "bonding", it is really an unfair expectation, when it's such a short trip (in the grand scheme), and we come home without our child.  I think we sat on the floor with K for about half an hour, half-heartedly trying to dangle small toys and a soft book in front of her, and she eventually calmed down into a comfortable state of ignoring us. 


All in all, it took about 3 days of taking her from mama nanny, handing her back in tears, making longer  and feeding her (the key to her heart!) to break through the ice a bit, and begin to get eye contact and smiles from K. 

Our sweet girl

I feel so grateful for the special time we got to spending learning about K and soaking her in. 
Her skin is a smooth, dark cocoa. She has wide and expressive eyes, which flash with her mood frequently (and great brows!) 
Her chubby cheeks and round belly are edible, and her little braids poked out of her head in the most adorable way. When undone, her tight curls haloed across her head in the most beautiful and delightful puff.
When she is serious, her eyes are pensive and her lip pokes out. 
When she is nervous or sad or upset, she grabs a fistful of her clothing at the neckline, and chews on it until it's a soggy mess. 
She has an adorable habit of standing in place and shifting her feet back and forth (almost waddling), which appears to be a comforting technique.
When she is silly, she might sing to herself or shout "NO!" and crack up. 
When she is happy, she radiates light and wrinkles her nose with her smile. 
At our best moments, in the later days of our trip, she would come jogging to me with her arms out and fall into me (whether I was ready for it or not) for a hug and to be lifted up.


Okay, that's all I have in me for now. I've been playing these moments over and over again in my head since the tearful moment we left the creche, but for some reason, putting pen to paper feels more draining. 

renmen ak anbrase (love and hugs), J & J

A New Year!

Today is New Year's Day 2018, and it's been 2.5 weeks since we came home from our time in Haiti.

On January 1st, it's Haitian tradition to eat soup joumou, an aromatic pumpkin/squash soup. We have a large pot bubbling away on the stove, a new tradition that we are happily folding into our family. The history of soup joumou is a powerful one: during the terrible early years of Haiti, the French forbid Haitian slaves from enjoying the dish, considering it a delicacy "too sophisticated for a slave's palate". To commemorate and celebrate the independence won on January 1st 1804, soup joumou is enjoyed on New Year's Day by most Haitians, a symbol of freedom. We had this dish twice while living at the creche, and I'm excited to try this new recipe (and a few others!), to begin rooting Haitian culture in our home.

Our time in Haiti was truly life changing, and I could not be more sure that K is our daughter, and Eisley's sister. I don't quite know how to pass along the feelings we experienced while there, except to say that we are humbled, full of gratitude, and brimming with excitement for K's future. She is bright, funny, and the cutest little peanut. We were able to watch her learn in our two short weeks with her, and her spirit shone through as she tested, giggled, and cuddled with us. I feel security in knowing that she is being cared for while we are waiting for the next steps of the process to move forward. We are permitted to return and visit whenever we would like, not that we've completed this stage of socialization, and we are hopeful that we can go back for a short trip in a few month's time. 

Justin and I both journaled nearly every day in Haiti, but I have been struggling to distill the experience into shareable words, as opposed to the long, rambling, stream-of-consciousness pages I wrote there. Honestly, I feel as though I've been struggling in general since coming home. We were both remarkably healthy at the creche (despite being surrounded by 60+ kids, many with constant runny noses or coughs), but I haven't felt physically well since getting home. My body is coming around now, and I'm back at the gym too, which I think is helping. More than this, though, I'm feeling challenged in how to share about our experience in a clear way, as my emotions are a bit all over the place. I feel more consistently "low" than I ever have before. I think I may feel this way until we get to see K again, or until she gets to come home to us. I'm not okay, but I'll be okay. 

Thank you to all of you who have been so thoughtful since we came home. Thank you for asking questions about our time in Haiti and our time getting to know K, and being patient while we search for words to explain. Thank you for being eager to see pictures, and being understanding while we fawn over countless images of her sweet face. 

In the meantime, I will return to this blog and work to share our experience with you all, piece by piece. It helps me to process, bring you along, and also have something to look back to as K grows up! Thank you in advance for your patience as I unpack the words. We still cannot share her personal details publicly (aka, on the internet) until the adoption is complete, but as we see you in person, we're happy to share more with you. 

As we embark on this new year, my greatest prayer is that we will be able to move through the rest of this process smoothly and quickly, and bring our little girl home. I also pray for the children we met in the creche, and their families, and for families to be provided to the few sweet kids we met who do not yet have a match. I wish we had the resources and capability to bring them home too! 

Happy New Year's to you and yours! 

PS: Here are a few links to versions of the soup joumou recipe, if you're interested in giving it a try! It's a flexible and forgiving recipe, traditionally made with meat, but we're doing a vegetarian version. And yes, spaghetti (or another pasta, if you prefer) is a must-have ingredient!
Also, check out our new favorite side dish, pikliz, a spicy vinegar condiment, mainly made with cabbage, carrots, and onion. 

God's Littlest Angels Haitian recipe page
The Spice Detective soup joumo
Three Many Cooks soup joumo