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