Breathing and Living Life

Well, my personal goal of writing at least once a month has slipped by me, but I'll work harder on this. Life just moves too quickly these days.
Regardless, we don't have any specific adoption updates to share, but I'm jotting down a couple of things going on in our life right now. 

First: Justin and I just returned from six days in New York City. We are equal parts refreshed and exhausted, but I feel so grateful that we were able to go. (Why is it that you always seem to need a vacation after a vacation?) 

We love to travel. If I were to boil it down, I would say that one of the main reasons I work my butt off is to support my family and our future, and to travel. In 2009, not long after we were married, Justin and I took our first trip to New York City and fell head over heels for the city. We are both suburb-born-and-raised, but are drawn to the bustle, walkability, and culture of a metropolitan life. We call NYC our "second home", and often daydream of our retirement plans, which typically includes owning a home or renting long-term properties in various areas across the City. Since that first trip, we've gone back about every other year, but put this on pause when I got pregnant. When we began the adoption journey, 16 months after Eisley was born, we decided to pause any "major" life choices (or, I should say, any MORE major life choices).

And here we are: 19 months since the start of this journey, 10 months into the "referral-ready" phase. We don't know if baby K will be referred to us any time soon, or at all. Things still appear to be moving for others in Haiti, although at molasses speed. In many ways it feels as though we're holding our breath. So, we decided to plan a trip, and breathe for a minute. We are blessed to have two sets of grandparents nearby who willingly/lovingly took Eisley for the week, so it was just the two of us. It was an incredible trip filled with sunshine, music, walking, and reconnecting as a couple. Oh, and so. much. good. food.

Second: We've decided to sell our house and move.

When we bought our home in 2008 we were young, newly married, and had no idea what our future truly held. We knew that we wanted kids and that we wanted to live closer to Seattle. Now that we are raising one child and preparing for another, the itch to be in the city has become stronger. Many of our friends (nearly all of our friends with kids) live in Seattle. We work in Seattle. Eisley's fabulous school is in Seattle. We find ourselves driving there most weekends for activities, and we are oh-so-tired of this commute. But, as we worked to complete our home study, we made the decision not to move until after the adoption finalized and our little girl had been home for some time, so as to create the least amount of unnecessary transition for her. We know that our schools nearby are well-rated and fairly diverse, but our neighborhood and community is not very diverse. Our daughter needs (deserves) access to racial mirrors.**

We again began kicking around the idea of moving earlier this year, quickly talking ourselves out of it because of all of the work it would take, and because of the sheer craziness of choosing to buy a house in one of the hottest and most expensive markets in the country right now. And honestly, there's something in my brain that has said "If you just stay put for one more minute...one more week...one more month...your referral will come through." I know this is unrealistic (superstition?), but it is part of what's been helping me feel tethered. Either way, I am working to breathe, let this go (and let God), and keep living a full life. To cap this off, we were also both blessed in crazy and unexpected ways at work this year, and so we decided to take the plunge. 

Moving will mean redoing part of our home study (paperwork and fees, which our agency ensured us is not totally abnormal), and investing a ton of work into packing/selling/buying in an insane market. We have honed in on a couple of key neighborhoods (Beacon Hill and West Seattle), met with our real estate agent, secured a mortgage provider, and begun the process of packing and purging and cleaning. We have discussed contingency plans for what to do if we sell, but cannot quickly buy (a distinct possibility). I have spent hours poring over neighborhood blogs, maps, and school reviews. I am crazy stressed about this (because, yes, it is crazy), but know that we are doing the right thing for our family.  
To close this train of thought out, I'll note that this was even more clear to me after our time in NYC. Walking the streets, we were surrounded by a plethora of people, languages, cultures...It was a dream. We even looked up Haitian restaurants and had multiple options to choose from! 
[See earlier note of "so. much. good. food." We had a delicious lunch: me, a plate of legumes and diri ak pwa (vegetables with red beans and rice), and Justin, poulet creole (chicken stew). We both tried a good dose of pikliz on our meal, too (a spicy cabbage/vinegar condiment, often made with scotch bonnet peppers). I'll be building my heat tolerance for that!]

So, if you have an interest in cleaning carpets and roofs, running countless loads of donations to Goodwill, or are an expert at carefully piling items into boxes, your services are welcome! 

N a we pita! (See you later!)

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

**Additional, important thoughts about racial mirrors:

Mirrors for my Daughter's Bookshelf

Having Just One Black Teacher Can Keep Black Kids In School 

From "The Misadventures of Awkward Black Girl" by Issa Rae: "You guys know about vampires?" Diaz asked. "You know, vampires have no reflections in a mirror? There's this idea that monsters don't have reflections in a mirror. And what I've always thought isn't that monsters don't have reflections in a mirror. It's that if you want to make a human being into a monster, deny them, at the cultural level, any reflection of themselves. And growing up, I felt like a monster in some ways. I didn't see myself reflected at all. I was like, "Yo, is something wrong with me? That the whole society seems to think that people like me don't exist? And part of what inspired me, was this deep desire that before I died, I would make a couple of mirrors. That I would make some mirrors so that kids like me might seem themselves reflected back and might not feel so monstrous for it." 

Still Waiting

Hi friends, I know it’s been since the holidays that I’ve posted an update, and many of you have kindly checked in to see how things have been going. In a word, they haven’t, but we know that is pretty much par for the course at this stage, and we are trying hard to remain patient and positive.

Over the last couple of months, we’ve heard scattered reports about how things are generally going in Haiti, and also had a very brief “non-update” from our agency, so I thought I’d at least share those highlights.

On 1/13, I received an email from our program manager asking if we could connect. She called us after work, when Justin and I were enjoying a mini Friday date-night (happy hour beer and plate of pickle chips) before picking E up from my in-laws. He took the call in the hallway away from the din of the restaurant, and I sat a bit paralyzed at the table, staring out the window. Since I couldn’t see Justin to read his body language during the conversation, I just sat there fretting and holding in tears—it could be good news (the referral?) or bad news (officially “losing” K?). Turns out it wasn’t really either. Our program manager knew that we hadn’t heard anything in some time, and wanted to pass along a brief update that she had heard from the crèche. 

When we were first presented with K’s information in November, details about her were scant.  Recently, her dad has begun voicing his discontent that K is to be adopted. However, he has not done anything to take action against this, such as stepping forward to say he will raise her. Our program manager let us know that this is not unusual, and may not ultimately impact anything. He could fade away again, or he could choose to step up and take care of his daughter (or other relatives could choose to do so). We can’t know what will happen around this, and I initially felt more angst than appreciation at receiving this update. However, in the end, I believe that a child should have a family, and in many cases, I recognize that biological family is preferable. If bio-family is able to step up and care for K, providing the unconditional love and guidance and support that she so desperately deserves, then my heart will be well. Either way, I'm vacillating between feelings. On one hand, I'm frustrated that things aren't moving for K--she is missing out on precious time with her family, even if that is not us. (For perspective, K was just about to turn one-year old when we first learned of her, and she is now 16 months old.) On the other hand, the busyness of our day-to-day provides a welcome distraction, and Eisley's growth and development is incredible and keeps us on our toes. 

In this conversation, we also learned that the other family (mentioned in my last couple of posts—they were also seeking a referral for K, were “chosen” ahead of us, and then pulled out of it because another referral was apparently already in the works for them) did not end up receiving a referral. This may have occurred because of first seeking K, but is unclear. My heart aches for them.

One thing we’ve been learning to navigate through this process is that intel about what’s happening on the ground in Haiti is hard to come by and hard to validate. While our program manager provides updates as she has them, they are often sparse. To fill in some of these gaps, families in our social media support groups will post what they’ve heard, and I’m so grateful for these connections. I’ve begun to rely on these virtual friends for updates; I often hear from them first when things have stopped or started in Haiti.

With that, we’ve picked up some good tidbits over the last few months. Here are a few key notes: 

• One of the reasons things have been particularly quiet lately is because IBESR has been experiencing infrastructure issues. It appears that there have been periods of time when their printers and copiers were not working, electricity was spotty, and/or the generator was not functioning well. This makes me realize how much we take our modern, first-world amenities for granted. Something as “simple” as a printer going down halted movement for countless children and families. Judging by our social media groups, it looks like some of these issues may be resolved now; some families are reporting receiving their referral, embarking on bonding trips, and even moving into the final stages of their child’s adoption. Praise!
• It appears that more staff is being added to support (and speed up) the matching/referral process. IBESR has stated that they are working to implement procedures this year so that a family’s dossier should only sit with IBESR for 6 months and at the judicial phase for 6 months, meaning that hopefully matches will occur and move forward within a year. (Apparently this was an intention shared when Haiti transitioned to Hague, but is being reaffirmed!) This is incredible news for those of us waiting (and waiting, and waiting). There is still a backlog of families waiting for referrals (some waiting since 2014), and it sounds like the focus is to get these completed first.
• IBSER will continue to meet throughout the year with agency representatives and crèches, to hear concerns and ensure procedures are being followed. I’m hopeful that this will keep the doors of communication open, aiding in the flow of accurate and timely information, and may help to put emphasis and spotlight on the pain-points in this process that could be improved. (Here is where my process-improver brain goes into hyper drive. Evaluate resource needs! Streamline steps! Document for continuity and consistency! Set and communicate expectations! Obviously, that is me trying to control the uncontrollable, and is embarrassingly oversimplifying things with which I have but only a small window into. Not to mention my bias… J I do trust that those working on this are the right, skilled people, representing both the child and the family’s best interests. /end moment)

I think that’s all for now! This “non-update” turned out a bit longer than I anticipated—par for my style of writing and talking, I suppose. Love and hugs to you and yours.

Baby Girl K

Around Thanksgiving, a little flurry of movement cropped up, and we were holding our breath while working through paperwork with our agency. We thought that we would soon have some exciting news to share, but now I regret not writing about that in the moment, because it has now been tempered by a more recent reality. 

Okay, let me back up a bit. 

If you recall last time I wrote, we were attempting to seek a referral for a little girl on a Waiting Children list. For ease of following in this post, I'll call her "K". Instead, another family was chosen to be presented as her match, and we were greatly saddened. It felt like a loss before we'd even had a chance. On the other hand, we were so happy for the other family, and for K. Complex feelings, yo. 

I also want to pause and thank our friends and family who have been so kind to us as we have processed our thoughts, complained, and cried. Part of me wonders what it is like to watch us swing through these emotions over and over, as the time passes painfully slowly. I imagine it is tiresome. There will be happiness to share too! We are grateful to you for you sticking by us.

So, two days before Thanksgiving, we received our agency's bi-monthly Haiti program email. In it, there was mention of two more little girls on the Waiting Children list that we wanted to learn more about. I shot an email off to our program manager, and tried to just put it out of my head, so as not to start to get my hopes up again. 

The response came back very quickly: "You've been on my to-do list...K is available for adoption again. Are you still interested in adopting her?"  My heart started racing and I couldn't get ahold of Justin fast enough to let him know of the update. Of course we were still interested! 

It turned out that after the other family was presented as a potential match for K, they learned that IBESR was already working on a referral for them. (This is fantastic for them, by the way. What a Thanksgiving blessing!) Once I confirmed that we wanted to pursue K again (YES! YES, 100 TIMES OVER!) our agency sent us two new pictures of K from their recent trip to Haiti. Here was a sweet, chubby little girl, with gleaming eyes and a gorgeous (very grumpy) pout. She was clothed in purple striped pajamas, propped on a small chair, giving the camera a very serious face. 

The next couple of weeks we set to work updating our home study and I800. If anything substantial in your family life changes (you move, you have a child, etc.), or if you make any changes to the characteristics of the child you're seeking to adopt (from one child to multiple; updating the age or gender requested; a change in medical conditions, etc.), you must update these documents. Essentially, they officially tell the involved government agencies of the changes in your life. It can be time consuming and is costly. (Surprise!) Fortunately, we only needed to make a small tweak to our home study, to capture K's medical condition, and our agency was able to help us update it without another home visit (which would incur a higher cost). This small grace took a big stress off of us. 

While waiting for our home study update to be completed, I waited (impatiently) to hear about next steps. After about a week, I reached out to the program manager to ask for an update. We anticipated it would take some time to hear back on the official referral, but I was hoping to get an idea of what that might look like. She quickly responded, stating our home study update was done and had already been submitted (hooray!) and also asked that we give her a call (that's never good).

I'll admit that any time we are asked to do something, I try to jump on it at top speed. My brain says "Hey! There's pretty much nothing controllable in this process. But this is a task assigned to you right now. So get it done! Don't  be the one holding things up!" I was in back-to-back meetings at work that day, so I asked Justin to give her a call. On the drive home that afternoon, he filled me in: things were not as we expected and we have hit another hurdle. We may not get K's referral. 

Feels like deja vu, eh? The same anticipation and similar dashed hopes. And here I'd thought I'd been guarding my heart better this time around.

To explain why this is happening, I feel I ought to add a short preface before continuing. Things in Haiti are ever-changing and I can't pretend to fully understand what is occurring between the creches and IBESR right now. What I do know is that there is a rift that they are working through. I'm piecing together what our agency reported to us, what I can find online, and what others are sharing in our online Haitian adoption group.

To clarify the "normal process" to match a child and family in Haiti:

• A child has to be"referral-ready", with their own completed dossier. As I understand it, this is often prepared by the creche the child is living in. This means a lot of document gathering and time spent. So, while we were working on our dossier, it's very likely our daughter's was being worked on too. 
• The creche also has a relationship with an adoption agency (or agencies) and may review the dossiers of families submitted by the agencies for potential matches to children in their facility. (This process has been explained in a few ways, and it's still frankly a bit muddy to me. I think that what I'm bulleting here is more applicable to Waiting Children, but I'm not 100% sure.) If the creche believes we're a suitable match, they might submit our dossier and her dossier to IBESR for review.
• IBESR, which acts as Haiti's Social Services or centralized authority for adoptions, is the government entity which reviews the dossiers and is the ultimate determiner of matches. 
• If IBESR agrees to the match, we receive word of an official referral. After this point, we will travel to Haiti for our two-week bonding/socialization trip, and this kicks off the long legalization process and eventual homecoming. There are many more steps to that, and we'll share more as we eventually work through them. 

There isn't currently a specific "Waiting Children" process in Haiti, as there are in some other countries. But, knowing that these children are in unique situations, our agency was anticipating that once the creche had agreed that we should be matched with K (which they felt pretty good about), it would be as "simple" (heh) as the creche presenting our dossier to IBESR, and IBESR confirming us as an official match with K. Then we'd be off to the races! It turns out, though, that there has been some contention building between IBESR and the creches across Haiti lately, for a variety of reasons related to the implementation of the Hague convention (and probably related to fees). As a consequence, many creches appear to be choosing to hold off on submitting dossiers to IBESR right now, or at least slowing it down substantially. If this is true, that means that families may not be matched with their children, and we may not be matched with K. 

Bumps along the way are expected as Haiti transitions into the Hague convention. When we started, were told in no uncertain terms that we would be guinea pigs as things were learned, adjusted, and stabilized. We agreed to this because we knew that our daughter was in Haiti. We will do what it takes. No one knew what the challenges would actually look like, but this was surely not what I had expected. The match with K is not truly off the table, but at this point we don't feel confident that it will come through quickly, if at all. I'll admit that I was holding out a little bit of hope for a Christmas miracle, but instead we'll hold an extra candle at Christmas Eve service this year, for K and for the other families marching along this journey. 

Love and hugs to you and your loved ones this season.

A Steep Drop Down the Roller Coaster

This has been a trying week.

I recognize that this is true for many right now, and I am personally still processing the impact of the presidential election on my family, friends, and this great nation. I am praying and trying to work through what we can do as individuals to be positively productive, loving, and impact change. 

And while this is relevant to our adoption, this is not a post-election post.
Instead, I want to share an update about the roller coaster ride we have been on over the last week. We chose not to speak about it with our family and friends while it was happening, because if there is one thing we have learned over the last year, it's that the adoption process is delicate and unpredictable. There were just too many unknowns at the time to feel comfortable sharing it. In the end, I think that was the right choice, as it allowed us to process each step privately as a couple, and to reflect and learn along the way.

Last week, Justin and I were fortunate enough to spend a long weekend away together. I surprised him with a trip to Boston, without Eisley, and we had a fabulous time. Highlights include: eating way too much (cannoli! lobster rolls! seafood, oh my!), enjoying a local craft-beer festival, and exploring the Museum of Fine Arts during a unique overnight event (which included the honor of hearing Madeleine Albright speak. She is a witty, amazing spitfire).  We reconnected as a couple and celebrated our eighth anniversary a bit early (it was on 11/9). We're so grateful to our families who took care of E while we were away; so thankful that you gave us the time and love her as much as we do.

Two days into our trip, while fighting the crowd at the beer festival, we received the bi-weekly email that WACAP's Haiti Program Manager sends to the families adopting from Haiti. I look forward to opening these each time they arrive; it's like unwrapping a small gift. They’re usually brief and include updates on families in the program and resources pertinent to adoption. Each time I read one, I feel closer to the children in the crèche and the other families also waiting for their family to grow. Since this process is so slow, I try to savor the emails and tuck away a bit of warmth each time.

This particular email included something I hadn’t seen before: a note about a few “waiting children” who were ready for a referral, but had not yet been matched with an available family.

A quick pause for context: a "waiting child" is a child who is "harder to place". This is typically due to a medical condition, "older" age (~6+), or because the child is part of a set or group of siblings to be adopted together. Also, these medical conditions tend to be defined differently in the adoption world than you may define it-- another topic for another time.

In this list was a child that caught my eye: an 11 month old girl with a medical condition that we know a bit about, but not much. I showed the email to Justin and both of our interests were piqued. I sent an email back to ask how we could obtain more information about her. We carried on with the day, heading off to get dinner.

We're buckled in on the roller coaster now. Here begins the slow tick-tick-tick upwards.

Later that evening, in the middle of wandering through the museum, we received an email that contained some basic medical details and family history, and one snapshot of a serious and sweet little girl. The picture was just a head shot; she clearly wasn't ready for the picture, and was clothed in a checkered shirt that was too big for her. She had glowing ebony skin and the most striking and bright eyes. (For confidentiality reasons, we can't share the specific identifying details or picture of her.) Also included was a stark caution from the program manager that if we chose to pursue her, there was no guarantee that we would get an official referral for her, as other families may also come forward for her. 

Now, I like to think that we're fairly pragmatic people, and we understood this caution. But here in the midst of hundreds of party-goers, I was completely drawn to her, and couldn't stop thinking about this little girl potentially coming home to us. For our remaining days in Boston, we slowly peeled back the lid of this hope together, and I sorted through my feelings. Sadness for the circumstances that led to her placement in the orphanage. Excitement at the potential. Anxiety as I got ahead of myself and began thinking through logistics.

Tick-tick-tick...nearing the top of the first hill...

Next steps included me relentlessly reading about her medical condition (not a recommended step in the adoption process) and applying for a medical consultation to better understand the scant medical information we'd received (a highly recommended step in adoption process). We are extremely fortunate to live close to the UW Center for Adoption Medicine and quickly scheduled an appointment. Later in the week, we had a long and detailed conversation with an incredibly kind and patient doctor. When we hung up, we both felt more prepared to parent this beautiful girl and I emailed the program manager to confirm "YES, we are seeking a referral." (Underlying sentiment: Please, please, pleeease tell us this will go the way we hope!)

She responded confirming that it looked like another family may also register their interest. She mentioned that they'd been in the program longer than us, so they may be closer to a "regular" referral, and might choose to wait for that. Another agonizing day passed, and I was thinking that another family couldn't possibly come forward; this is our girl. I kept turning her name over and over in my mind. Her last name is a name that is in my family; this must be a sign, right? Her birthday falls on Thanksgiving this year; another sign? I was searching.

The next day brought news that the other family had officially asked to be included as a potential referral. My heart dipped a little. The agency would present both of our files to their social services team, who would then decide which to forward to the crèche. We waited some more.

The following evening, something spurred me to check my phone as I went to bed. The email had arrived: both families were great, both were sent to the crèche for review. The crèche picked the other family. She was not to become our little girl.  

Here was the downhill drop; fast and furious and upsetting.

The last loop-de-loops this week were through a wide range of emotions: disappointment, sadness, and grief, but also extreme joy that this girl had found her family and these parents had found their daughter. In the end, this is what matters. I pray that the referral occurs quickly and that the rest of the process goes smoothly for them. 

So, we'll just keep ticking along, continuing to wait. In reality, we know that a referral doesn't seem to occur until ~12-18 months after entering IBESR, and we've only been in IBESR for 3 months. Based on what we learned from this experience, we're discussing potentially updating our homestudy a bit, in regards to medical conditions.  But, it looks like we have some more time ahead of us to endure the peaks and dips of this ride.

Hurricane Matthew

This has been a rough week. Hurricane Matthew slowly tore its way across Haiti, other parts of the Caribbean, and is now making its way towards Florida.
I've rewritten this post a few times now, because I've been struggling with articulating. So, here goes. 

How I've been feeling: 
I've been on a bit of an emotional roller coaster: I watched in horror as the predictions of the storm's path and impact were broadcast. My anxiety spiked as the storm shifted and seemed to be aiming straight-on for Haiti. I cried thinking of our child, and the fear she may have been feeling. The confusion or anxiety she may have experienced, watching her parents or caretakers prep and plan for safety. My heart broke for a land desperately unprepared for this kind of impact. For the people, who've had enough of this to last a million lifetimes. I prayed fiercely for the storm to slow and move. I prayed for safety of the country and the people. For her safety. And we waited. I have never felt so helpless, knowing that from afar there was nothing tangible that I could do. 

What's happened: 
Not being in Haiti myself, I can only share what I have read and followed through sources in-country that I believe are reputable. The following is a recap of what I have gathered.

First, some quick context: Haiti is often described as the poorest country in the Western hemisphere. There are still many areas rebuilding from the devastating 2010 earthquake, and some that will never be the same. Much of the terrain has been deforested, largely due to energy needs, which can create instability in the land, and greatly increases the risk of mudslides following high rains. I say this to illustrate that the infrastructure and terrain across the country cannot handle much in its current state. 
(To balance this, know that Haiti is also the world's first independent blac republic and was the second nation to earn independence in the Western hemisphere. This is a strong and brave country, capable of much.)

Hurricane Matthew, a category 4 (on a scale of 5 being the worst) moved over the country (which is about the size of Massachusetts, for scale) at an agonizingly slow pace, with winds of over 130 mph. There has been massive damage to some areas of the country--largely the South and the North. Reports are still being vetted, but there may be hundreds dead. And now that the storm has moved on, there is concern of flooding, catastrophic mudslides, and disease. The country has been fighting a cholera outbreak for years, likely imported by aid workers during the earthquake clean-up and spread through contaminated water. It is entirely possible that the standing water from the storm could exacerbate this.

I do believe that our prayers were heard. It appears that some parts of the countries experienced less devastation than expected. It appears that Port-au-Prince, the capital, is standing. We haven't yet heard any official reports from the Embassy, but the hope is that it is okay (and therefore, hopefully all of the adoption-related paperwork that so many families have poured their blood/sweat/tears into is okay). 
We learned today that our orphanage Fondation Enfant Jesus (FEJ) reported that all children and staff are safe. However, toppled trees and severe flooding caused major damage to structures and the health clinic. Temporary shelter is in place, but the flooding needs to stop and rebuilding must occur to get them back to the safe space they were previously in. All this to say that there is still much that we do not know, and we will continue to wait for news on what this might mean for adoptions--for other families, and for us. 

What you can do: 
If you are looking for ways to help Haiti, please think about contributing directly to organizations that already exist in the country. Large NGO's and organizations newly forming after the Hurricane often have high overhead and/or little transparency into where funds actually go. Here is a reputable page outlining various agencies inside of Haiti.  Also, here is a link to FEJ, our orphanage.
Don't buy a plane ticket and fly there to rebuild. This takes jobs away from the very capable hands of Haitian residents. (i.e., Why pay someone to do work, when this foreign volunteer will do it for free!) 
Don't buy supplies and send them to Haiti. Instead, consider sending funds to allow supplies to be bought in-country, contributing to the local economy and small businesses.

A last note to leave you with:  
Please, practice healthy skepticism when consuming media.
Pre-storm, some news sources were broadcasting images of Jamaica and calling it Haiti (and vice versa). Some news sources were showing historical footage of Haiti, such as from the 2010 earthquake. A newscaster at the Weather Channel stated that part of the reason that the country is so devoid of trees is because Haitians sometimes resort to eating them. (Uh, what? No.) Even an image that I saw after the storm of a child "stuck in a flooded alley" turned out to be a child playing in a ditch, unharmed. 
I don't say all of this to take away from the truth: life and communities have vanished. People have lost their belongings, their homes, everything. So much loss.
This was a horrific catastrophe. 
Media is important in keeping informed. However, it's important to be aware of when media is reporting flippantly (or too quickly, trying to be "first on the scene), or is relying on "click bait" tactics to draw in an audience. Try to seek out resources as close to the scene as possible, whenever possible. We've been fortunate to find good resources on social media, of missionaries and citizens who have been continued to share updates from their family, friends, and contacts living across the country. 

Dossier Registered in Haiti

In July, I talked about the waiting phase our dossier had entered. 

A quick recap, if you don't want to go back and read that post again: 

• Dossier was sent to Haiti on 6/20/16.
• We are told to expect it to take at least couple of months to be officially registered with IBESR. My brain says: "Oh, okay. 6/20 + 2 months = 8/20. (Mind you, there is no chance that this exact science works. This is just me trying to make sense of the nonsensical.)
• We also learn that work at IBESR slows to a snail's pace in August, due to vacations. My brain sighs, and recalculates: "6/20 + 2 months (-August) = 9/20".
• We vow to be patient.

July passed without a word, as expected. August inched by and I scoured blogs and Facebook groups for any reports of movement at IBESR. August closed without any news. I realized that I should stop holding my breath. September began. 

Okay, bear with me for a second while I take a quick detour. It is connected, I promise:

This last weekend, I was the Director of a camp I have volunteered at for about 12 years. For privacy reasons, I'll omit specific details, but suffice it to say that I think of our camp community as my other family. Here are kind and thoughtful people who face unique challenges every day, and do so with courage and grace. Many of the camp families have also adopted (most of them many times), and I am grateful to get to see these children and families grow, both through pain and through joy.

I was feeling pretty low before camp. A lot happening at work, stress about planning for camp, exhaustion due to E being sick, etc. I found myself slipping into some sad days thinking about our as-of-yet-unknown Haitian daughter. Missing her. 

As it usually does, camp filled me again. I was reminded to take stock of what is precious in life and give thanks for all that I have. I witnessed these beautiful and diverse families being--well--families! Unfettered. I have much to learn from them. 

I promise that we're getting close to bringing this tangent back around to connect to the start of the post. 

This year, I learned that one of the girls (who has been to camp for years) is Haitian. This had never come up before in conversation! In the last moments of camp, I also learned that the Executive Director of the camp grounds has a Haitian son. Again; I knew he had a blended family, with adopted children, but had no idea one of his children was from Haiti. As a Christian, I can't help but recognize that these slow revealings are a purposeful part of His plans (you know, the one that I can't control). And you better believe that I'll be holding onto these connections tightly, to learn from and lean upon. 

Of course, though, this brought my mind back to our dossier. Where was it? Was it buried in a stack of paperwork, not yet visible? Was it sitting front and center on someone's desk, next in line for review? Were we going to receive word that one of our documents was not acceptable, sending us off on a chase to correct it (and translate/notarize/authenticate it)? The lack of visibility into these processes is so frustrating. I essentially help identify, create, and implement process improvements for a living. I know that there could be a way to make this process automated, transparent, and efficient. Alas, that is not my place here. 

So, here we are, on 9/6/16, a day after returning from camp. I can't stop thinking about the adoption. 

This morning, as part of my usual routine, I pulled up my email and saw a note from our caseworker. She just received word that our dossier was registered in Haiti on 8/8/16! A MONTH AGO! I instantly teared up (erm, might be again now) and texted Justin to make sure he'd seen the news. The timing is just incredible, and we are overjoyed that one more hurdle has been passed. 

So, what's next? 

You probably know the answer. Say it with me now: more waiting. Since 8/8, we have been eligible to receive a referral--to be matched with our child.

When we started this process, last November, we were told it could take a long time for a match, but waits vary greatly. That is still the case. Many families I've seen have waited 18-24 months for their referral. As I've said before, it's challenging to find "like" families of to compare. We are essentially part of the I800 "guinea pig" group. There have been murmurs of a new matching process coming soon, and with this comes the hope that it may speed up. Who knows. In some countries, matches occur faster for children of certain ages (typically older) or children with medical or special needs. It is hard to see any discernible pattern of this occurring in Haiti, as of yet. We will just need to wait and see.

Thank you for your prayers, your encouragement, and your thoughts. Please, keep it coming.

Love and hugs

A Brief Non-Update Update

Quite a few of you have (kindly) checked in to see if anything has changed recently, so I thought I'd take a moment to add a short update to the blog. As the title states, it's essentially a non-update. In a nutshell, we are just waiting.

On June 20th, our dossier was officially sent to Haiti, essentially closing the chapter of our paper-chasing and gathering, the period of work that we had control over. We are now waiting for the dossier to be legalized in Haiti, and then handed over to IBESR. The loose estimate for this to occur is within "a couple of months", but as I've mentioned before, there is no true average length of time that we can expect for any stages of the adoption. Add to this the knowledge that the work unofficially  slows down or stops in the IBESR offices in August, as it's traditionally a vacation month, and you'll now understand why you haven't heard much from me in awhile.  
We're in a period of time (which may last for months or years) in which we have no control over proceedings, and that is so very hard for me. My patience is in a constant state of flux, oh that fickle creature.

Once our dossier is registered with IBESR, we are essentially in line for a referral. Technically, this means that we could receive the call that our daughter has been identified at any time. Realistically, it'll likely be anywhere from a few months to a year for this coveted day to arrive. 

I am a part of a few adoption-related forums and Facebook community pages, and have recently seen a flurry of movement for both I-600 and I-800 families (we are I-800; I-600 was the process in place before Haiti joined the Hague Convention in April 2014). This gives me hope, and I am overcome with joy to see these families unite and begin to move forward with their lives together.  

In the back of my mind, two competing thoughts swing back and forth on a pendulum of expectation. 
One: Remember, Jordan, there is no "normal" in this world of adoption. A trend of referrals and placements now is no guarantee for the same tomorrow or the next day. The only true norm is waiting.
Two: But, couldn't we be the exception? Couldn't we get a quick referral, experience a perfect bonding trip, and fly through the post-bonding adoption stages and bring her home in record time?  Maybe. But in all likelihood, probably not. 

Most days this suspension in time is fine. I am deliberately focused on soaking up every second with my little family of three; delighting in Eisley's growth and personality everyday, experiencing and enjoying life in the moment. 
But some days, a sadness sneaks up on me and snags my heart. In those moments, I miss our second daughter terribly, though we've yet to be introduced to her, and she doesn't yet know we are awaiting her. I pray for her health and well-being, and for that of those taking care of her. I pray for this waiting period to get a move on, so we can meet her. 

That's all for now. Love and hugs.