Haiti Transforms

We flew to Haiti for the first time in July of 2011. We were not allowed to visit Djedly until we could file for our Parquet court and I600 at the embassy in Port au Prince.  Upon our arrival in country we found out that our agency rep had misreported to us that we were submitted to IBESR, the government social services department. This department is where adoptions are processed. We were shocked that we had been given misinformation and were frustrated that we were not yet in the office. The IBESR is known as a “black hole” in the process. Your file can sit in this office for months…if not over a year. We were so anxious, as at this point in time we had been in the adoption process for 18 months. Though we had just recently signed our referral, we were hoping that we were about half way through our process and would be able to see some significant progress toward bringing Djedly home.  This first trip had so many surprises in store. We met Epheta, Djedly’s mom! We also met Daril, his older brother who was 10 years old. We were jolted into the reality that we couldn’t leave Daril behind in Haiti. When Epheta gracefully requested that we adopt both boys, we knew that we had to amend our initial (and very strict idea) of only adopting one child. We saw the amazing bond the boys had. And we thought of the bond Britt and Leo our two kids at home had. The age difference was comparable and we couldn’t imagine splitting the two up. So we started the process to adopt Daril as well. Leaving Haiti, I felt like something was dying inside of me. I returned to the states and mourned not having Djedly at home with us. I felt selfish. I felt wasteful. And I hurt. Physically, I hurt. I wanted him home. RIGHT THEN.

It took several weeks to get all the proper documents facilitated to bring Daril into the orphanage. While this was being arranged, our orphanage’s lawyer who was one of the founders of the orphanage, passed away of a very unexpected illness. It was horrible. In addition to the understandable anguish the entire family of our orphanage was experiencing, the families adopting from the orphanage experienced our own anguish. We were not allowed to come and see our children and help them through the stages of grief. We were asked to give an understandable grieving period for the family to mourn. In addition to a period of mourning, decisions had to be made about how the process of adoptions would proceed. It took several months for all of our documents to be updated to reflect a change in who would now be processing our adoptions.

In October 2011 I traveled with my sister in-law to Haiti again to see both boys. We had an amazing time together and I was relieved to find that Daril accepted me as his mom.  I was utterly terrified that this child on the brink of becoming a man would reject me in every possible way.  He walked out onto the porch of the “o” as we call it, and looked at me and smiled and said, “Bonjou Momma!” and in less than a second, he too was my son.  He had turned 11 in the few months since I had first met him and we laughed over the fact that he was my little boy even though his feet and hands were already bigger than mine. I felt a huge sense of relief seeing that he was a happy boy. And that he embraced a side of himself that was still juvenile. We had caught him in that stage where he might have been growing up way too fast due to life’s circumstances, and we were greatly relieved that we could adopt him and lend him that pause button on his childhood. He and Djedly were both very happy that they would be together. It made me feel so much better as well. I knew that they would have one another. The goodbyes were not easier, but at least I knew they weren’t alone.

December 2011 was our first trip as a family. J and I took Britt and Leo to Haiti and we celebrated our first family holiday (a little early). We experienced such joy watching our children so naturally blend. It was truly amazing. Words can’t express how happy I was to have all of my children together. There was no ocean dividing us. Even for just that one week, we were all under one rat and cockroach infested roof with malaria riddled mosquitoes knocking on our door. But we were together and we were happy. It’s cheesy, but true that I had a moment of ah ha while looking at a bumper sticker on the inside of our apartment door. It had a creepy mime clown image (don’t ask why because I have no idea), but it stated the truest words: No Power, No Water, No Phone, BUT I STILL LOVE HAITI. And it resonated so deeply with me. Haiti was perhaps the only place I had ever truly felt at home. I do love Haiti. It is the only place where I have ever felt that I have all I need even with barely anything. And it’s amazing what you don’t need, when you have what you do. And right then and there I had everything I needed.

I returned to Haiti alone in January 2012 and spent a week with the boys. We found out that some of our documents had to be recreated when a notebook went missing in January of 2012. This caused a delay in our process once again. In February, shortly before our anniversary and almost two full years to the day that we submitted our request for permission to adopt from Haiti, our boys were submitted to IBESR! What a colossal victory that was. We felt like the clock could really start ticking on the adoptions at that point. We were so excited. We had heard that six months was the expected average for families who needed a presidential dispensation. The president is required by law to sign off on your adoption after you receive IBESR approval if you have biological children or have been married less than ten years. Knowing that we needed dispensation, we thought that we could ease up a little knowing that we would likely be in IBESR until at least August. And of course we started thinking ahead. We had heard that typically children are home six to nine months post IBESR and dispensation. So we had hoped that would mean the boys would be home in February of 2013 at the latest. It seemed like so far away, but we hoped that we would finally have something work out for us and perhaps “fly” through IBESR. (I may have just laughed out loud).

I traveled to Haiti for my 5^th trip in March 2012.  I spent two weeks with the boys. I worked at the orphanage teaching art, music and dance for a week. And then I stayed on for a week at the hotel to eat lots of hot dogs and crappy frozen pizza and swim and play and watch movies. Our week at the orphanage we stayed in a tent on the grounds. It was an amazing experience that I’m so grateful for. It was rain season. So it was like living in our own thunder dome. We were the safe haven for the scared mice that ran inside seeking refuge from the elements. We made a nice little nest for ourselves using bins to keep our snacks from being infiltrated. The bins made a nice night stand for my computer too. So we could fall asleep at night watching movies after applying our daily quota of temporary tattoos and eating snacks.  We spent our days learning about symmetry and the color theory. I taught painting and drawing techniques.  We learned how to dance like we were swimming like fish and make crowns for our heads with pipe cleaners. We stamped our hands and feet and made everything we could with ripped paper. We talked about Bach and Beethoven, as well as modern musicians, who are taking the classics and flipping them on their heads, plugging into amps and rocking the world. We recycled everything we could and turned the orphanage into our own version of STOMP. We talked about the environment and the world and how everyone is a small piece of something huge but that each and every person has value. We talked about how and why we should love our world. And we ate lots and lots and lots of beans and rice. It was an exhausting week. But I loved every single minute of it.

And then at the end of the week something very unexpected happened. A tiny little baby was brought to the orphanage. Veronika. She was barely alive. Her eyes were sealed shut with infection. She stunk to high hell. Her skin was peeling off.  She was thoroughly grossly infected. She was funky. She was stinky. She was just ew. She was an utter mess. I was convinced and tried to tell myself to prepare that we would likely lose her. But she was amazing. I sensed a magnetism that was quite foreign to me. I was finished with babies. FINISHED. Our adoption of an older child was so totally intentional. I had my little guy at home house broken and was loving life now that I had reclaimed my boobs. There was absolutely NO WAY that I was headed to Haiti to find a baby. But she had found her way to me. And when I saw her I knew I had to stay far far away. Yeah. That didn’t work out so well. Like I said, magnetism. Primal stuff. I didn’t know how to spell her name, so I gave her the nickname V. And when I left Haiti I was terrified that when I would return in a few short weeks that I would find that we had all lost little Baby V.

I went home and confessed to J that something had happened. Of course he immediately replied with the whole, “WE ARE NOT ADOPTING THAT BABY!”

In the following weeks as I simply went completely mental over the fear and utter horrific feelings that come with knowing that I couldn’t do anything at all to care for and handle the needs of such a delicate little baby across an ocean. I did all I could do. I sent her as much love as I could.  I planted Veronica flowers in my garden. Little blue flowers. And I thought of the American Indian tradition of anchoring a child to the earth. I fostered the little flowers and thought of V every single day and night and well…ok, every nano-second. I wished and hoped and sent so much love to her…I begged her to live.

Three weeks later, J and I returned to Haiti in April 2012 for our I600 appointment for Daril. I couldn’t wait to see the boys. And J knew that I was bursting at the chance for him to meet V. But I received my stern warning (I usually ignore those anyway) that we “ARE NOT ADOPTING THAT BABY!” So I whisked sweet little V out of the baby room and proudly brought her to the porch for J to see her. I tried to hand her over to him and he absolutely refused to even touch her. “Two and a half feet! You need to stay two and a half feet away from me with that baby. I know who that is. AND WE ARE NOT ADOPTING THAT BABY!” Is what he said. Uh huh. I smiled and asked him to take my picture with her. That picture is one of my absolute favorite photos of all time. She snuggled into “that spot” that only your baby can fill. And in that moment, I wanted to run. I never wanted to let go of her.  The missionary at our orphanage walked out to the porch with a knowingly huge smile on her face and asked J how he was doing and if he would like to hold a baby. ;-) He replied that he in fact would love to hold any baby except the baby that I was holding because he knew who that was and well…”WE ARE NOT ADOPTING THAT BABY!” So she returned with another sweet little guy and J proceeded to love on him and get all goo-goo and do all the good and loving dad stuff that made me fall in love with him after seeing him become a puddle over Britt at the age of six months. He’s such a sucker for babies. That’s why he wouldn’t so much as lay a pinky finger on V.  We stood holding these babies and our boys gave us the stink eye. Daril shyly stood by me and Djedly jealously stood by J and Daril built up the nerve to say, “Mom! Is “THAT” going to the hotel with us?” Of course he was referring to V. J replied, “don’t worry boys, WE ARE NOT ADOPTING THAT BABY!”

I defiantly (that’s my way!) held V and spoke commands to her that she grow. She had not grown very much in the five weeks since she was born. She had chronic very high fevers due to the systemic infections she arrived with.  And we were concerned that they had possibly caused additional damage. I desperately wanted to see some improvement. She was obviously blind and possibly deaf as well. Knowing that I wouldn’t see her for quite some time, I tried to give her as much love and energy and LOVE as I possibly could pump out in the fifteen or so minutes that I held her. I told her to grow. And I promised her that if she grew, I would take care of everything else. Letting her go to head back to the hotel with the boys was a heartbreaking disconnect.

But we had an amazing time with the boys. They were so happy to see J. It was so obvious that our time in March had made an amazing difference. Seeing them a short three weeks later was an amazing treat. I was so pleased that the time had passed so quickly. Being away from my children is absolute torture. We were so relieved to be at a point in our adoption of Daril that we were filing for his I600. It was nine months after we had filed Djedly’s and we felt better knowing that the boys would essentially be caught up with each other after the appointment. But sadly at our appointment at the embassy several things came to light with Daril’s documents and we were not given approval. His relinquishment document stated that his deceased father (who passed away in 2006) had relinquished him at the orphanage with their mom in September 2012.  We had to provide documentation in addition to changed documentation that the orphanage would have to provide and we were deeply disappointed to know that our goal of having the boys caught up with one another was not going to be a reality.

When we returned from the April trip, I called my social worker and confessed that maybe I too had become one of those creepily weird orphan collectors. I begged her to tell me that I was completely obnoxiously LOCO and that I should just defer to the old adage and live in a shoe. I asked her to tell me that my home was unsafe for a child with special needs and that I wasn’t prepared to raise a blind and deaf child. But I couldn’t stop thinking of her in a world closed off. I couldn’t bare the idea of knowing that she would be sitting in the corner of the orphanage all alone in her own dark and empty atmosphere. And instead of giving me the verbal knock to the head that I requested, my terrifically amazing social worker replied with a cheery, “You’ll absolutely do what’s right for your family!” WHAAAAAAT?  She didn’t tell me I was crazy!!! I’m not sure why. I had clearly gone off the deep end. To this day, I still don’t know how she does it. She is the single most dedicated source of help we have found in this process. She is an angel that walks this earth and holds hands and hearts and lets me vent and cry and grind and gnash my teeth all while cheering us on and encouraging us and loving the evolution of our family. And she knows every deep dark skeletal non-secret we could ever tell. She knows the condition of my laundry room. She knows how I organize my cleansers. She knows we think our dogs are the spawn. She knows that my body has been rebuilt surgically several times. AND YET she remains an amazingly dedicated supportive force that I can’t imagine not having in this process. She believes in us. But crap, when I got off the phone with her I was worse off than when I called her. Because I knew that she felt good about this. And that helped nothing in the “WE ARE NOT ADOPTING THAT BABY” world. Ugh. JJ.  Seriously?! What’s one more? We already need the short bus, a padded room, tranquilizer blow darts and a stocked liquor cabinet. Is one more itty bitty, blind and deaf little sweet V going to rock the boat that much?!

By May 2012 V was hospitalized for severe bronchitis that turned pneumonic. I lost my mind. I paced and rung my hands. I couldn’t handle not knowing what was happening with her and I was terrified beyond words that we would hear through the grapevine that she was gone.  Luckily, I had a friend who had traveled to Haiti in May. She checked in on V shortly after she returned from the hospital. She was there to capture one of the most beautiful images I have of my daughter. She is lying on her back in the infirmary on an IV and she was looking up at a mobile that I made for the children who are stuck in that room feeling crappy. It had butterflies and moths and all kinds of colorful hand made paper, flying insects on it. And in the photo it is visibly obvious that she can see. And she is smiling.  V could see. It was a miracle. We later found out that a sweet man and friend had done a healing prayer on her and when he lifted his hands, everyone who witnessed her prior blindness was celebrating that our sweet little V could see! I received the photo and hyperventilated. I‘ve never done that before. But I couldn’t breath. All I could do was cry. The hot and fast rolling drops of ocean water came pouring out of my eyes and at that moment I do believe my husband knew he had lost the futile fight.

We returned to Haiti, as a family again in June 2012 and by then V was a household name. I tried really hard not to force my feelings about V on J. He had made himself sort of clear. But I was feeling so broken. I was honest with him. He is the person I have chosen to spend my life with. And I had no plans to fall in love with a baby. But it had happened. So I made an agreement with him that I would love her as a mom because she needed a mom. And I would advocate for her to be adopted. I thought that if I could see her through to an adoptive family that I would feel healed of my brokenness. And I could let her go and be happy in a family. But when we traveled to see the boys again with Britt and Leo, the kids took one look at V and immediately saw that she was their sister. Leo was her biggest advocate and even went as far as to tell us that he, “didn’t want to be the last one in the family to turn 100!” That was pretty clear.  But dad persisted with his, “WE ARE NOT ADOPTING Veronika”. Oh…he had started using her name. ;-)

In July V was taken to the hospital a second time. We were warned that she would likely not make it. And if I thought I had previously lost my mind, this was the clincher. I went ape shiz psycho. And I told J that I was pulling the rip chord. So I called a second adoption agency that we had come to have a great relationship with in the process of our adoptions of the boys, and I inquired. I was informed that she was not available and asked to continue to send prayers for her health. I asked that we be considered if she became available and the reply was that they would do what they could to help us and appreciated that we desired to continue to expand our family. The agent had met us and translated for us when we first met Epheta and Daril. So he has truly seen quite an evolution in our family. Though it is absolutely an unintentional evolution, it is nevertheless a very beautiful evolution. Over the next three days I barely slept. I couldn’t think of anything other than V in the hospital intubated and on a feeding tube.  The following Monday I received what I expected to be another let down conversation. Instead it was one that changed everything. After a conversation with our orphanage, the agency and the “o” agreed that our family was the best fit for V. They were aware that we knew of her health complications and knew that I had a very strong bond and love for V. I do believe I could have blown a hole in my roof. We knew V had a 50/50 chance of survival. And we knew that we had a very real chance of losing her. But I knew that even if we lost her, she needed a family. Then...it was time to call J and explain what I had been up to that day. I recall saying something to the effect of, “Well remember how I told you I was going to pull the rip chord? We are now adopting V.” And then bit my lip and hoped that I hadn’t just landed my happy ass on divorce row…BUT because I married the most amazing man to ever grace this earth, his reply was, “I know. I’ve known since the day you came home from Haiti and told me about her.” MOTHER EFFING….what ever I was too excited and then I cried the happiest tears and couldn’t wait for the kids to come home and tell them and then we did structural damage to the kitchen floor when we all jumped up and down in excitement. The very next day I got another phone call. And I felt my heart sink and then sing when I followed the emotional rollercoaster of fear when our new agent mentioned that he was calling to give me the news that V…was taken OFF THE VENTILATOR AND SENT BACK TO THE ORPHANGE!!! She had made another miraculous recovery and was out of the woods and was going to live!!! I was floating in the bliss of an unbelievable turn of events. I felt like a kite with cut strings. No one could bring me down.

In August 2012 I traveled back to Haiti and was nervous by deliriously excited to share with the boys that we had decided to adopt V. As I unpacked in our hotel room and prepared for the arrival of all three kids, I rehearsed the limited kreyol I was planning to say to explain that, “It was coming to the hotel”. But sadly, because of paperwork issues, V couldn’t stay with us at the hotel.  We, instead, have had to visit V daily at the orphanage on most of the subsequent trips that I’ve taken to visit the kids in Haiti. Perhaps it was best that we not have her with us on the August trip, as we rode out Hurricane Isaac together and I would have had limited resources should she have had a breathing issue.  Instead, the boys and I spent a day of post hurricane cabin fever watching movies, shooting each other with silly string, and jumping on the beds until we heard something wooden in the bed frame pop and I had to remind myself that I’m supposed to be the responsible adult. It was fun while it lasted. Due to the storm, I stayed for an additional four days as all flights leaving Haiti were completely full. It was nice to have a couple extra days with the boys and it gave me a chance to spend a few extra days at the “o” with V once the roads were passable. It was an interesting experience to be on this island during a storm like that too. Growing up in Florida, I wasn’t too worried about a category 1 hurricane. But even on the third floor, we had debris and water in our room. I was feeling horribly privileged to be in a safe building with a back up generator while people all around us were struggling through the night in tents. And the morning after the storm while we were playing joyfully in our room we heard the incessant hammering of homes being rebuilt all around us.  It was a vivid reminder of how lucky we are. Just changing the longitude and latitude of our births would change everything.

In September 2012, we were putting the final touches on our dossier for V. One of the basic requirements for a dossier to be submitted to the Haitian government is called an IBESR letter. It explains your intent for adoption, and is a humble request for permission to adopt from the country. This is the letter we submitted. It was our third IBESR letter. Our first was for one child. The second included a second child, but this was our FINAL IBESR letter, which included all three children:

September 7, 2012

To the IBESR

To Whom It May Concern:

We, Jennifer Julia Haefeli and John Joseph Matthews, consider it to be our fondest hope to grow our family by adopting from Haiti. We have a deep respect for Haitian culture and the strength of the people of Haiti. Please accept our formal request to the Ministry for permission to officially adopt a little girl. We wish to adopt three children of either gender from Haiti. We know that each person is individually special and are prepared to raise our children and provide any and all necessary care for them.

Though we will be raising our adopted children in America, we fully believe in raising all of our children to respect all of the cultures in our family. It is very important to us to help our children understand and appreciate that they will grow to be strong, Haitians and that though they are not in Haiti, they will always be Haitian. We have wanted to adopt for many years, and have evaluated different countries, and feel that our hearts lie in Haiti. The beautiful children of Haiti deserve forever families, love, and comfort.

We feel that our family can bestow upon our children the values we feel will help them understand that there are many like them and that they can return as much as possible to the people of Haiti. We hope to give our children a long, happy life and are appreciative to welcome them into our wonderful family.

                                                                                    Jennifer Haefeli & John Matthews

During the month of September 2012, I traveled again to see the kids. I was very happy to see the kids so soon. The average time frame between my trips over the past year or so had been about every 72 days. So seeing them after just a few weeks was wonderful.  I arrived hoping that V’s documentation had been sorted out and that the boys and I would be able to have her at the hotel. Unfortunately there had been no change and we were told that we could not have her. Fortunately, however, we were allowed to spend several hours during the day with her at our hotel. What a huge difference this made in the bonding process for the boys. They were so happy to spend time at the hotel and they played with V and loved to make her laugh. I relaxed my fears slightly that they felt dethroned and would reject having a new little sister. It was what I called “baby light” because it gave us the experience of a few hours for the boys to enjoy their time with their sister but they still had lots of quality mom time with me at night.

On October 5 2012, our agent for the boys called to let us know that we had just been released with our dispensation from the president and we were finally out of the black hole of IBESR. We were so happy. It was a long 8 month wait to get through IBESR but it gave us energy to receive this amazing news.  We received good news for the boys, but a crushing blow in the process to start V’s adoption that month. Our file for V was ready and waiting to enter IBESR as soon as the boys’ files emerged, however, her mother’s death certificate had not been received by the orphanage yet and IBESR closed their doors to make some significant changes in the process of Haitian adoptions on October 31. And V’s file did not make it in before the closure. It is really hard for me to know that almost a year later my daughter would be in the passport stage – AHEAD OF HER BROTHERS – if she had been submitted when she should have. Alas, unfortunately it did not happen. We were told that the IBESR would open in a few weeks to a few months and that we would be submitted upon their re-opening. It was a huge blow. We had rushed all our documents and expedited an updated home study and created an entire fourth dossier for her with the hopes that we could get her in before the closure. We spent thousands of dollars to all but guarantee it. Knowing that she didn’t make it in has been a very hard thing for me to understand and let go of.

I traveled back to Haiti a few weeks later for our first full bonding trip, including Veronika, in November 2012. I had V and the boys for a full week. It was awesome. The boys really blossomed in their relationships with V. They were so pleased that she was with us. It was so nice to relax and play and not have to shuttle back and forth every day to the orphanage to go spend time with her sitting on the front porch. We could swim and watch movies and eat pizza. And we could do it all without the struggle of the boys feeling like their sister equates to a loss of freedom and fun time with me while I’m here in Haiti. I brought a small Christmas tree and we had a mini Christmas together. It was our second mini Christmas in Haiti. And though my soul ached knowing that we would spend another Christmas without them, I was very happy that I could spend a version of a joyful and happy day with the three of them.

Christmas 2012 was an incredibly difficult time for me. I had a really hard time in 2011 as well, but 2012 made me feel the way I felt after a miscarriage. Everything in my body felt that something was not right. There were two fewer little voices around the Christmas tree. Two fewer plates and glasses at the table. Two fewer stockings. Two fewer smiles. And a week later when we rang in the new year, I made my wish once again as I did the year prior, that this would be THE year they would come home. I wished that we would never again spend a Christmas or a New Year without the boys. And I wished for 2013 to be V’s year. We needed big things for 2013. HUGE.

My first trip in 2013 in January was my second full bonding trip with V and it was the 11^th trip to Haiti to see the boys. This trip was remarkable for so many reasons. The boys literally exploded in delight to show me all the things that V was starting to do and they loved playing with her. I found out that they go into her room every day to spend time with her and play with her. I love that. We got some incredible news on this bonding trip as well. We learned that the boys’ adoption decrees had been received and that they were officially Matthews’! I had some help translating my excitement and asked the boys if they had any questions now that they had a new last name. I explained that they were now Daril Etienne Matthews and Djedly Etienne Matthews. When Daril heard that we wanted to add John to his name (after  and his uncle), he exclaimed, “MOM! I want to be Parker! Like Peter Parker, only not Peter. Just Parker!” and henceforth, Daril is now Parker.