Home at Last

We did it, ya'll. Our little love, Kattiana, is finally home. She and I arrived back in Seattle the evening of Thursday, March 21, 2019. We've been tucked away at home since then, deep into the warm folds of bonding and attaching as a family of four, and I'll share more about our new day-to-day as we settle in further. But first, I wanted to document the last stage, share what the pick-up trip was like, and of course add a few pictures and videos. (Skip to the end for this; apologies for this novel.)





















 Our Decision to Travel

Kattiana's Visa was printed pretty quickly (on March 6th), meaning she could officially leave Haiti and come home to the U.S. However, the U.S. Travel Advisory still had not come down from the Level 4 "Do Not Travel", which put us in a difficult situation. Wait for who knows how long until the Travel Advisory comes down, or take the risk and travel, knowing that if unrest kicked up again, it may be extremely challenging to leave the country? Our agency sternly cautioned us, telling us that it was likely that no one would come and rescue us if something went wrong, and that they did not recommend travel. Justin and I spent a long, fretful weekend discussing it and talking to parents who had recently traveled or who were in the country, hearing many great perspectives and advice. I am so grateful for how honest, kind, and thoughtful so many strangers were to us.

We mostly heard that things were tense but "fine" for the time being. We knew this could change in an instant, but my fear was that if conditions did disintegrate, we would never be able to get there. We also knew that there was an American volunteer, Sue, staying at the creche, and it gave me comfort, knowing there was someone else there. 
Technically, you're required to be in-country for one week, but we asked the creche if we could shorten our trip, and they were willing to trim it down to 4 days/3 nights.  
We decided that we would go, and go quickly.

At this point, Justin and I decided to "divide and conquer": I would travel to Haiti solo to pick up Kattiana, and Justin would stay back in the U.S. to take care of Eisley and the dogs. This way, if anything were to occur in Haiti that would cause a delay in coming home, only one of us would be stuck, lessening the impact on Eisley. This decision did not come lightly, and to be frank, it kind of terrified me. Not because I felt like I'd be unsafe in Haiti, but because the idea of doing all of it on my own was daunting. 
We checked on my life insurance, booked three one-way flights, and bought travel insurance.

Monday: Arriving in Haiti

My flights to Haiti were uneventful. When I deplaned, I looked for the gruff porter who we hire to help expedite us through immigration, pick up our luggage, and guide us to our driver. I was relieved to quickly spot him, but then saw that he was holding a sign with someone else's name - it seemed that no one was there to help me. Great start. I sucked it up, got in the long immigration line, and settled in for a wait. Twenty minutes in, I realized I needed to first pay the passport fee (a different line, of course), hustled over to do this, and then went to the end of the immigration line to start over. Sigh. A few minutes later I spotted the porter again holding a sign, but this time it had my name on it! He pulled me out of line and helped me get through the rest of the steps quickly. The drive through Port-au-Prince, Petionville, and up the mountain to the creche was long and slower than normal.

I knew that once I arrived at the creche to pick up Kattiana, she would be fully in my care, eating with me, and sleeping in my room. This made sense, since she has legally become our child, but this meant she was expected to immediately transition from everything she has ever known to all new experiences, without any real preparation. It's a lot to ask of a little one. 

When I got up to the classroom where the kids were, Kattiana actually smiled and walked to me, allowing me to hug and hold her. I was so grateful that Sue (and Idette, another volunteer who arrived later!) captured precious pictures of this moment, and many others during our time together. 

We slowly transitioned to our room, and Kattiana closed off, wary of me. It took time, but she began to warm up as I pulled out trinkets, toys, and snacks from my bag. 
That evening we shared dinner at the director's home with Sue, where she is staying, and Kattiana put away more spaghetti, vegetables, and cake than I thought was humanly possible. This kid knows how to eat, and while I recognize she's lived with food scarcity for much of her life, I was glad to see her willing to try new foods and snacks. It was really special seeing her make choices throughout the week, deciding what she did and did not want to eat on her plate, taking her time and savoring treats. These are things she's never had the luxury of doing before.

Tuesday: Visa, Passport, Exit Letter, and First Father 

We woke very early Tuesday morning to drive back down to Port-au-Prince for our Visa appointment at the Embassy. The drive would typically only be about an hour, but it took well over two hours, as the driver picked up and dropped off others along the way. Kattiana was not thrilled to be in the car (and got carsick, poor thing), and I held her tightly (no car seats) on the bumpy ride down. We had an appointment for 8:00, right when the Embassy opened, and moved through the line and security quickly. It had been recommended that I bring snacks, toys, and extra clothes for K, but we weren't allowed to actually bring anything but our passport and ID inside, not even our phone.  

When we got into the waiting room, I was quickly called to a window and told K's items would be ready shortly. About ten minutes later they called me up again, and told me they were missing a signature from an Embassy employee on one of the pieces of paperwork. (YEP! COOL!) They said he was in a meeting, we'd need to wait for him, but they didn't know how long it would be. (DOUBLE COOL!) We all sat silently and stared at each other. Finally, about an hour later, I was called back up and handed a packet of K's passport and visa, certificate of Hague adoption, and sealed packet for immigration into the U.S. The guy who gave it to me tried to chat with me about my connection to Haiti, gave Kattiana a lollipop, and overall seemed very pleased with himself to get to deliver these life-changing pieces of paperwork to me. I was exhausted and just wanted to take them and go, and didn't have patience for his saviorism.

Next, we drove to the creche's head office to pick up Kattiana's exit letter, which is required to pass through immigration in the Haitian airport. (Note: "letter" is a total misnomer, it's a whole packet of documents.) We had been told it might be possible to meet Kattiana's birth dad here, and due to the unrest and short trip, I had assumed it was no longer on the table. However, while at the office, he did arrive! Kattiana was scared, I was emotional, and he seemed patient with me. For her privacy, I won't share the details of our conversation, but I am eternally grateful we were given the opportunity to meet him, capture pictures, and ask a few questions. I was able to convey to him that it was an honor to raise his daughter, and offered to share pictures and updates through the creche as she grows up. This experience and the information he shared will be so key for K as she gets older. So many adoptees don't have this opportunity, and I can hardly express how special it was to me.

Wednesday: Bon Voyage  

One of the traditions of picking up your child from the creche is for the parent(s) to throw a farewell party, including a cake, treats, decorations, and fun. We knew that there was a bakery in Petionville where a cake could be purchased, but in planning for the trip, I wasn't sure if it would be reasonable to ask for this to be picked up, so I decided to bake at the director's house. To plan for this, I packed two baking pans, boxes of cake mix, frosting and toppings, oil, and applesauce (as I wasn't sure I'd have access to eggs). I also packed supplies for a party mix, lemonade mix, balloons, streamers, and other decor. It was a lot, and a large part of why my checked luggage was over 70 pounds! The head of the orphanage checked in with me on Tuesday and told me I hadn't brought enough, and estimated that I should pay $100 for a cake from the bakery and more treats. I held firm and said this was what I would be able to provide, and she was annoyed, but it turned out to be just enough, and the kids were thrilled.

Kattiana and I baked and decorated the cakes together with Sue on Tuesday night. High-altitude baking in an oven with no real temperature gauge -- a first for me! I cannot express how thankful I am that K and I were able to spend time with Sue and Idette this week; they were kind, compassionate, and patient. We were able to share meals and a lot of laughter together, and I don't think I could have made it through this solo trip without them. 
Baking with Kattiana was hilarious; she did not understand why I would want to mix up this giant bowl of tasty batter, and then not eat it! I handed her the spatula to lick (a time old tradition), and made the mistake of turning away for a moment. When I turned back, she had plunged the spatula into the bowl and scooped up a giant mouthful batter. Needless to say, she likes chocolate. 

The party was a complex experience. I dressed us both in simple "party" dresses, to celebrate the occasion, and Kattiana ran around squealing in delight at first. The head nurse got the party going by leading everyone in songs and dances, and it was beautiful and special. K was mostly happy, but began to turn inward a bit as the focus turned to her, and the kids and nannies sang her adieu. I can only begin to imagine what she was feeling. Despite the challenges that growing up in an institutionalized environment causes, such as the lack of felt safety and connection in a familial environment, this is all K has ever known. These are her people, and leaving them will be leaving her world.

Thursday: Departure and Homecoming

We rose very early Thursday morning to travel to the airport. The drive back down felt similar to Tuesday: multiple starts and stops, another carsick Kattiana, and a supremely stressed out mom. I didn't realize it until I fell into Justin's arms Thursday night that my stomach had been clenched into a perpetual knot for the entire trip to Haiti. At the airport, our favorite porter helped expedite my check-in with the airline and guide me through security and immigration. I don't think I could have done this without him, as I lugged two bags, a backpack, and Kattiana along. Passing through immigration was quick and easy, which was amusing, as multiple adoptive parents had told me this part of the process was mildly disconcerting. I knew I'd have to hand off both of our passports and our exit letter here, and had been warned that they would vanish with these documents for an unknown amount of time, without any explanation. Instead, I had to remind the immigration officer that he needed her exit letter. He took it without looking at it and literally tossed it aside on his desk. I guess this is just another point of proof that nothing in this process is predictable.

Our flights were scheduled for PAP to NYC, and then NYC to SEA. I had brought two small airplane toys to the creche, to play with them and talked about our flights with Kattiana, in the hopes of this giving her some kind of insight into the craziness ahead of her. When we got to the PAP airport, I situated us by the window so that we could watch the planes take off, in the hopes that this would also give her some comfort. To my delight, she was overjoyed, standing on her chair and pressing her face against the window, shouting "AVYON! VOLE!" (Airplane! Fly!) Once we boarded, she was upset about the seatbelts (again, remember, all new things to her) but once we got going, she did amazingly well. I doled out a steady stream of snacks, stickers, and small toys that she'd not yet seen. She wouldn't wear the soft headphones I brought, so TV was not a distraction I could employ, and I was exhausted by the time we landed. Her only true meltdown was as soon as we landed, and this was because she had to pee. I'd dressed her in a diaper for the flight, fearing she couldn't hold it, but she refused to use it (good on you, girl!) so I stuck her in the front pack, and lumbered down the halls as fast as I could. Moving through the U.S. customs process was fairly smooth, and they took their documentation, stamped her visa, and welcomed us home.

This is when things went downhill. My phone indicated I had 40 minutes until our next flight, meaning I had to very quickly re-check the bag, get us through security again, get food for us, and find our gate. I immediately got lost in the airport, and Kattiana was wailing in the front pack I was carrying her in, hungry and overstimulated. I was near tears, and a kind man stopped and helped get me pointed back in the right direction. Then I saw the security line and knew we would never make it in time. I joined the queue and tried to fight back more tears. Another kind human noticed me, told me that anyone with a child should always go first, and pulled me into the front of the line. I have never been more thankful for observant and compassionate people. We got through security, rushed to grab food, and found our gate with about 15 minutes to spare. Here, I realized that something was wrong with the clock on my phone. It was an hour ahead. We had an hour and fifteen minutes to spare. Geez louise. 

Fortunately, this gave us time to eat, stretch our legs (aka, Kattiana taking off down the middle of the airport, squealing in delight at being free), and watch the planes take off some more. I was nervous about the length of this flight, and knew she desperately needed a nap. Once we got on the plane, we taxied for 45 minutes, which was just the right amount of time for her to have a complete screaming meltdown, clawing to get the seatbelt off and into my lap. By the way, don't I get a certificate for officially joining the "parent with the screaming kid on the airplane" club? Our seatmate was a calm older gentleman named Dave who told me his hearing was poor, so he didn't notice it much (God bless you, Dave). As soon as we were in the air, I clicked her seatbelt open and she literally laid right down into my lap and fell asleep. Poor bug. Her nap gave me enough time to sit quietly (and watch a movie!) When she woke up, I deployed the snack/toy/snack/toy routine again, and she quickly learned the "I'm going to throw this on the ground to make you pick it up" game, which was really fun for me. We also played the "let's go pee every 14 minutes" game, now that she is taking in more water than she ever has before. I wish I could have captured her reaction to the flush toilet on the plane. She insisted on pressing the button, and jumped out of her little skin, eyes wide, and then burst into the loudest laughter her little lungs could muster. It was the funniest thing I've ever seen, and she was so enamored with it that she pressed it again. She has also totally fallen in love with all faucets, and washing her hands has become one of her new favorite pastimes! 

The rest of the flight was okay, and when we landed, Dave turned and told me that he'd had a difficult week with his ailing parents, and sitting with us was a joy and an honor. I burst into tears and told him that he had no idea how grateful I was with his patience,  briefly explaining how difficult the last few days had been for us. The humanity I experienced on this trip has filled me up immeasurably.

Getting through Seatac to meet Justin and Eisley at baggage claim felt a bit like a homecoming scene in a movie. Eisley was literally running around with joy, Justin and I were a hot mess of emotion, and Kattiana was overwhelmed. Somehow, we made it home and to bed, and our new life as a family of four officially began. 

The last few days have been a blur of love and fatigue and firsts, for all of us. I am still catching myself marveling at the fact that she is here. She is running around, squealing, jabbering away, playing, testing, yelling at the dogs, checking in, not sleeping, and sparkling, truly sparkling.

A Few Pictures

Seeing each other again for the first time

A sweet moment of calm together

 

Enjoying her ramen

 

Baking cakes and cooking together

 

Sharing her snack with friends, completely of her own volition

 Walking outside of the creche. As you can see, she really loves this carrier* (*sarcasm)

Ready for the party

Friends and nannies singing farewell to Kattiana at her bon voyage party 

Watching the planes

Orevwa, Ayiti.

 

 

Home sweet home

Passport Update: Part Three

I don't want to bury the lede, so I'll just get right to the point: This may very well be our final passport update, because K's passport has been printed!

The last few weeks have been extremely rocky and emotionally difficult. Seeing a picture of our little love's passport this week, with her new full name, and bright shining eyes (what a big girl she is!) was a gut-wrenching relief. 

Since my last post on 1/31/19, there were more starts, stops, and tears than I can count. What a rookie I was when I noted in that post that the worst of this certainly had to be behind us. Obviously, I was wrong, and should probably just keep my mouth shut with my assumptions and guesses.

Here's a quick run down of what's been going on:

2/7/19: We learned that our agency, WACAP, is merging with another well-known agency, Holt International. Holt was on our short-list of agencies, and we have trust in their experience and knowledge. But, this could not have come at a worse time for us, personally. 
(My reaction: "OF COURSE. YEP. THIS IS GREAT. COOL. EXACTLY WHAT WE NEED RIGHT NOW.") 
Over the last 3+ years, we have built a relationship with WACAP and our program manager, and we learned that she is leaving the agency entirely, and has taken a job elsewhere. It's difficult to describe the feeling of being handed over to a new agency, knowing that we'll need to fill out some more paperwork (COOL), get to know a new program manager, and hope that they care about us as much as our past program manager has. Because she's a pretty great human, our WACAP program manager has offered to provide intermittent support on nights and weekends, to help us through the final stages. This is above and beyond, but is a testament to her commitment, and we could not be more grateful.

2/14/19: Civil and political unrest hit a new high in Haiti. It began around February 7th (well, last year, really) and we'd been following it closely. Much of the day-to-day life in Haiti has paused, as masses take to the streets to protest government corruption and insane inflation. On this day, the US raised the Travel Advisory to level 4 ("Do Not Travel"), due to the safety concerns caused by the widespread protests.

I won't do justice explaining all that has led to this, but I highly recommend taking a moment to do some googling about the history of the government (led by both a president and prime minister), the PetroCaribe deal, and the extreme economic inflation. It's disappointing that this is not more widely publicized in US news circuits; many friends I spoke with had no idea anything was going on. It only seems to pop up in the form of sensationalized stories about violence. But, I digress. 
Here are a couple of sources that explain some of the recent protests.
PBS

NPR

2/15/19: We learned that Embassy personnel and their families have been asked to evacuate, and the adoption visa processing has been suspended. We know that the passport printing has stopped as well, so this means that our last two steps to finalize our adoption will not be possible until the country is safe enough to return to a semblance of normalcy. Through this, we have felt some comfort in knowing that K's creche is fairly remote, and heard word that things were okay in her area.

After this announcement, we wept. I prayed. We watched from afar, feeling helpless, sad, scared, and concerned. As the protests continued, the president and prime minister did nothing of value to hear the concerns of the people or move towards meaningful resolution. We continued to read stories of people being unable to purchase food, water, or petrol. This beautiful country, these amazing people, they've had enough. 

Since this time, a relative sense of quiet has resume. It's a tenuous quiet, from what we understand, because nothing has actually been resolved. Protests could resume at any time.

2/25/19: We see an announcement that the Embassy will resume visa processing. Tacked on to this announcement is a warning that travel is still not recommended. This could mean that visas are completed, but families cannot travel to pick up their children. We don't know what this means for us; we are still waiting.

2/28/19: Late in the evening, after tucking Eisley into bed, I settled on the couch to decompress from the day. I glanced at my phone and saw an email from our former program manager. This was unusual, as we typically only hear from them during business hours. This means I'm on alert during the day, vigilantly keeping an eye on my inbox from morning to afternoon. But, once I leave the office, if we haven't heard anything, I assume it was another lost day, and I try to breathe until the next morning dawns.
I opened the email and realized she was emailing because this was the big one: K's passport is done.

Up Next: Visa

We've reached the final stage: visa. Our agency has told us that this stage is the only one that seems to move with any sense of consistency. If this holds true, K's visa could be printed within a week. Once her visa is printed, we can bring her home. 
But, because nothing can go smoothly, there are a few potential hitches we're keeping in mind.

1. The US Travel Advisory is still at a Level 4, and we don't know if we'll be allowed to travel, or when the Travel Advisory will be reevaluated. 
 Technically, we can book flights directly through airlines, but major travel search engines (Orbitz, Travelocity, Expedia) have removed Haiti from their search filters. For a short time, at least one of these search engines posted a message that traveling to Port Au Prince is illegal, which is wholly untrue and infuriating. This has since been removed, and now the airport codes are simply not recognized. This is already creating negative impacts on the Haitian economy, and likely will continue to impact tourism for an extended period of time, even when things are safe.

2. While we might be able to book a flight, our travel into the country could put undue strain on the resources of the creche. They provide us with transportation, food, water, and a space to stay. While we pay for this through our adoption agency, this is still a difficult time, and the focus should be on caring for the kids. 

3. There are undoubtedly other families who are also in limbo, and eager to travel to pick-up their little love(s) too. The creche only has two rooms to house families, so it's unclear how this will be handled. We would happily rent a space nearby for the week that we will spend in-country, but don't know if this will be an option. 

In the meantime, thank you for your prayers, good thoughts, good vibes, compassion, kindness, sensitivity, hugs, and high fives. Keep it coming.

Passport Update: Part Two

A short update, because I need a space to process.

I remember waiting in anticipation for Eisley to be born. Each day approaching her birthday was filled with a mixture of excitement, wonder, curiosity, and discomfort (because I was a whale and she was eight days late). I am disappointed that right now my feelings mainly rotate between apologetic (for not having answers for people), guilt (about work), frustration, and sadness. Then, I feel bad (more guilt) for feeling all these negative feelings, and not focusing on the delight ahead of us, and loop right back to apologetic again. It's a fun ride I've put myself on. 

My backfill at work has been selected for when my leave of absence begins (and I am genuinely excited for her), so naturally the  "is it time yet?" questions have increased. I am trying to be polite and patient with my "I don't know. I'll let you know when I know!" responses. Lately, my patience is waning. Or, maybe it's just that my emotional capacity is limited and less flexible right now. I fully understand the need to know and curiosity. I wish we could liken this to pregnancy, where the timing and expectations are familiar, and the experience is shared, and typically neat and tidy and comfortable. This just isn't like that. That's not to say that people haven't been kind and gracious and understanding. Each of you has been. 

Ultimately, we don't really have any updates. However, I thought I'd jot down the pain we've been feeling the last few weeks to share some of the limbo we've been living in.

1/15: As shared recently, we learned on this day that K's passport needed to be signed off by the creche's director, G, in-person. She was out of the country, and expected to be back in Haiti the following week.  This was a new, unexpected requirement, and for an unclear reason.

1/25: I reached out to ask if G had been able to sign-off on the passport yet. She had not, and would not travel to do this until the following week--a bit of a "lost" week, in our eyes. This delay was likely because another family needs her signature for their daughter's passport as well, so she probably planned to do both at once. We are thrilled for them, as we "know" them in the adoption community, but selfishly sighed at the delay. We also learned that the kids have to be taken on the trip to the immigration office, which makes the trip a bit more complex (and, I would guess, hard on the kids). 

1/28: G took the girls down to complete the sign-off, but "the system was down", so she could not complete the requirement. A wasted trip.

1/31: There is new confusion between our agency, representation, and immigration office; they are asking for a random document. No one seems to know what it is or why it's being requested. We don't know when this will be resolved.

To add to this, we also learned two weeks ago that K has a rash and infection on her leg. She is going to be fine, as far as we understand, but there is nothing that kicks me into mama bear mode faster and harder than my child being sick (or hurt or sad). Not being able to get a real-time update on her healing, and not being able to snuggle her and comfort her is nearly killing me. 

Additional Ambiguity

When we were first informed about this passport step, our agency hoped our passport would be printed by end of January-early February. They believed we might move quickly to Visa after that (the final stage). Well...now is the end of January, and the passport completion is not in sight.
Instead, we're starting to get the sense from others in the community that this might be the beginning of the passport phase, which is thoroughly confusing, and creates an even more fuzzy sense of how far out we are from being able to pick-up K.

We have been acutely aware throughout this process that things go sideways all the time, and there is "no normal". I am just so sad and frustrated that we are SO CLOSE, but obstacles continue to present themselves like mean and stinky whack-a-moles, and we haven't been equipped with a mallet. I know that we are through the longest part of the process, and the worst is behind us (it has to be, right?). I know that there is joy and wonder and our beautiful daughter ahead of us. I know that someday we'll look back at this period of time and wince, but feel less of this pain. But, while I know these things in my head, my heart can't quite catch up, and I just want to hug my littlest girl. 

For now, I'll squeeze Eisley tighter and keep carving out a space for self care: spending time at the gym, plugging into a favorite podcast (Reply All!), praying for peace and patience, and taking deep breaths. A lot of deep breaths. And wine. 

Passport Update

Oh, friends. We're close to bringing our little girl home, but still not quite there yet. 
I keep thinking my next update to our blog will be "the big one", but it just hasn't happened yet.

Catching Up

Back on 12/14/18, we received an update that K's file had moved to "MOI" (Ministry of Interior). This is where all of our paperwork is double-checked before our dossier is submitted to have a passport printed (essentially another layer of immigration sign-off in Haiti). This was apparently after it had proceeded through MOE and MOFA. So many "MO's". I don't fully understand all that happens in each of these stages, or even how long we were in each. But, the fact that all of our paperwork has gotten through each gate is worth celebrating. 

When they sent us our receipt notice for MOI, our agency told us that after getting through this step, we'd be in line for her passport, then her visa, and then we'd be able to bring her home.  Our agency's best guess (this has been their guess for many months) is that we were looking at "end of January" as the best estimate to when we would be able to travel and bring K home. But, as December ticked by quietly, trickling into mid-January, we have felt this estimate slip farther away. 

Over the last few years, whenever we've taken a vacation or a short trip away from home, we've nearly always received an adoption update of some kind while away. I was recently lucky enough to take a brief sunny vacation with some of my best old girlfriends (old as in "we've known each other since elementary/middle school", not old as in number of rotations around the sun). We spent time together, lounged, and did essentially nothing. It was pretty dang close to my idea of heaven (food, books, sun, friends), but I still found myself checking my phone, looking for that little email icon indicating "the big update" from our agency. Nothin'. I'll admit that on the flight home I felt overwhelmed and sad, and I just kept thinking, "I'm flying to the wrong place. This should be going to Haiti." 

Most Recent Update

Today, we received an email from our agency titled "Passport Update". My heart rate rocketed and my stomach jumped into my throat as I opened it. (Did yours do that to, when you saw the title of this blog post? Just being a little cheeky, I suppose, and sharing in the experience.)
Sadly, the update is not "the big one". K's passport is nearly ready, but the Haitian entities have determined that our power of attorney in Haiti (our creche's director, G) must sign in-person. This is unexpected, atypical, and unexplained. To make things more frustrating, G is out of the country until next week. This means that the passport will sit and wait for her to arrive back in Haiti and make the trip to the sign it. Once this is completed, the passport will be delivered to the Embassy, where it will be finalized, and her visa will be issued thereafter. We were told this usually takes "just a few days", but all of the "typically" and "usually" language we've heard over the last few years has proven inaccurate for our family, so please, don't hold your breath.

So...When? And then what?

Many friends (and even more co-workers) have asked how much notice we'll be given to book our travel, and when we'll know. This is yet another "shrug!" response. Some families travel when their passport is at the Embassy with the hope/assumption that the visa will be completed while they're in-country, and the timing will line up for when they plan to fly home. However, if the passport or visa is held up at the Embassy, this could backfire. We can't afford to travel open-ended to Haiti, so we'll likely wait to hear that her visa is complete before we book our flights to pick her up. Once we get there, we'll stay in-country (either at the creche, somewhere else on the island, or a combination of the two) for about a week before we are able to travel home. 

I've never really considered leaving the workforce, or being a stay-at-home parent. I love my job. It is a part of my identity. I find purpose in what I do, work with a kick-ass bunch of people, and am so grateful for the opportunities I've been given and the growth I've achieved in my million years in this corporate life. An mid-management career in HR with a mega-corporation is certainly not the path I ever thought I would take, but it has been rich and rewarding. 

However, I recently had the joy of spending some time with a good mama friend who has taken a break from working outside of the home to raise her littles, and it has given me a thrilling glimpse into what being home during my leave (~9 months) might be like. I am just so ready to pour myself into it all.
Admittedly, it is strange to feel as though I've reached a point in my life where I'm eager (and scared) to dedicate my soul to raising our girls for awhile. To wake up with a focus on bonding, teaching, learning, and breathing. (I'm not saying I'm planning to leave my job; I'm not!) I'm just over this wait. Tired of the lack of answers and clarity. Exhausted at being patient. 

I'm certain we still have a lot to learn ahead of us. I'm positive we're about to board a roller coaster that may feel a bit like having a newborn again (which was very hard for me), and a bit like nothing we've ever experienced before.  There will certainly be challenges ahead of us, but delights too. Let's just dive into it: the mess and the joy of it all.

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.