To try to explain the
massive gaping hole I have in my heart when I’m not with three members of my
family would be like explaining how man made it to the moon. No matter where I
am, I have three members of my family on the other side of an ocean. There is
not a day that passes when I don’t yearn for everyone to be together. I can’t
wait for the bickering and the extra clutter and the sticky light switches and
the yelling and constant banter that will be the chaos of our lives once they
are all home. Because there will also be the joy, the excitement, the
happiness, the fulfillment of knowing that we actually succeeded in this
disastrous process and our lives can return to their normal state of utter
chaos. My soul absolutely aches
for my children to be home.
I am in the midst of a
reversal of roles at the present time. For so long, I’ve left the boys and V in
Haiti to come back home to the states and live the remnants of my life that are
non-adoption related. But now that I’m living in Haiti, I’m doing the opposite.
I’ve been visiting the states for a week or so and then leaving Britt and Leo
and J in the emotional puddles that I’ve left the other three in for so long.
And it’s a horrible exchange, but for now it has been necessary.
I am coping. We are all
coping. But there are the days and nights that are absolutely unbearable. And I
find myself in the fetal position at 3 am crying silently and wishing I were
lying next to Leo. I feel like my kids think I’ve chosen to abandon them in
search of an answer to get their siblings home. And none of it is fair to
anyone. I miss all of my kids so much that it hurts. I feel physical
pain. And I can’t wait for the day that my body can rest. Really rest. And wake
and it’ll all be behind us. My dreams will return instead of the horrid
nightmares that consume my attempt at sleep now. I want to be able to breathe again. I want to be able to live
again. Truly live. Not in a daily – let’s try to get through this - kind of
way. A real way that involves appointments and homework and dinner and chasing
the dogs to get underwear off their heads. I want to find myself in that tizzy
every mom finds herself in because her children are running amuck and haven’t
done their homework because they’re off having too much fun. I’m not sure my
kids know what having too much fun means anymore. I’m not sure the boys have
ever experienced too much fun to begin with.
The current status we’re
all trying to function through SUCKS. Britt feels like I’ve died. Leo calls me
Dad. We’re missing life together. And did I mention that it SUCKS?!!! In
February, we bought tickets to the traveling Broadway show Lion King. We
thought that surely the boys would finally be home in time for the September
run in Pittsburgh. And we knew that the boys’ obsession with all things Lion
King would be a perfect way to introduce them to Broadway “light” so to speak.
As the months crept by, I started to get nervous that we wouldn’t be home for
the show. So we moved the date. Twice. We exchanged our amazing tickets for
seats that were less than amazing and opted for nosebleed seats in the very
last possible show of the run…hoping that we would be able to bring them home just
in time for the curtain to rise and all the magnificence of the Lion King to
emerge and blow their minds. I wanted so badly to see Parker on the edge of his
seat. He would have been delighted and likely would have been singing along in
his head to every song. And Djedly would have cupped his face in his hands,
half hiding his smile shyly, and then point and say to me, “Mom! Simba!!” And
as September came upon us I spoke with the director of the orphanage about the
likelihood that the boys would come home in time. He told me that he thought
the boys would come home in the first part of October. Just barely missing the
show. It was crushing, but I was encouraged to know that he thought things were
progressing and that perhaps if we had to exchange family opportunities, that
at least I would have the boys home for Halloween. But no. It is now December 6
and we sit in Haiti with falsified documents that are several months from being
embassy ready.
We were not home for the
baseball playoffs in Pittsburgh. A once in a lifetime opportunity missed.
Again. And we were not home to see the amazing 40 foot duck that visited our
town for several weeks. Back when the duck was in its home stretch in our town,
these were my thoughts:
The 40 ft. rubber ducky will only be in
Pittsburgh for 8 more days. So we've essentially missed the duck. We missed
Lion King. And the Greek Fests. And the Pirates playoffs. Leo stopped sucking
his thumb, sleeps in his own room, has grown at least two inches, and has
joined a bowling league (seriously amazing). Britt is finishing a season on
both the JV and varsity soccer teams, and I didn't get to attend a single game.
Tonight we missed the 10-year anniversary of our beloved Chillith Fest.
Cue fiddle.
Instead of sharing my amazing bed with the huz,
or sharing my bed with the amazing huz, I share my stack of bricks and springs with
ants. I share my shower with mosquitos. I share my kitchen with lizards. I
share my food with an unidentifiable insect…mmmmkay, the insect wins. I don't
want to share. And this week marks the 28 month anniversary of signing Djedly's
referral. Parker no longer believes he is coming home, despite my insistence
that a passport is coming...and I've stopped using the word soon.
I HAVE NO IDEA WHEN WE WILL BE COMING HOME. Just
making that known.My cup may be half empty, but thankfully I'm on an island with
a LOT of rhum to fill it up with.
Three months later I still don’t know when we will be coming
home. And I’ve consumed quite a bit of rhum. I’ve wept on the stairway of my
apartment just out of view of my boys more times than I can count. I’ve sat up
at night listening to the dogs bark in the distance…the gunshots closer than
I’d like them to be, and the heckle of the confused roosters who clearly think
that midnight is the new dawn…and in all this time I do a lot of thinking. I
think about how much I miss Britt and Leo and J. I think about all the time
that we are not spending together. I think about all the days that they come
home and I’m not there to help with homework, hear a story about their day,
have a laugh, give them a hug, tell them I love them…or just snuggle on the
couch and catch up on t.v. and let our minds be numb…be normal. I miss being
“normal”. I want my bland, regular, no frills life back. Ok I’m seriously
understating how our lives are normally…but I would trade packing several 70 lb.
hockey bags and hauling my ass to Haiti every 8 weeks for bland right now. I
would trade living in Haiti for the cold and gray of Pittsburgh right now. I
would trade my flip-flops for my Uggs right now. Oh Uggs…we will have to break
up because I am now fully aware of how you are made (if you want to be informed
google the pink/peta youtube video and prepare to be incredibly upset). But
getting back to what I would trade…I just want my life to be what it should be.
And right now it should be me sticking my frozen feet on my husband’s torso
because it’s so FREAKING COLD IN PITTSBURRRRRRRRRGH. Instead I’ve swept a few
ants off of my bed here in Haiti and I’m curling up in a position that won’t
allow the spring that has sprung to invade the space that discomforts my ribs.
And I will lie here and think of sweet Leo in his bed with his custom Rhino
valentine that I made him tucked into the bottom of Djedly’s mattress in their
bunk bed right where he can see it as he falls asleep; and hope that he looks
at it every night and knows that I love him way too much. And I hope that Britt
knows when she hits the ground running every morning that I’m so proud of her
and that I can’t wait to come home and catch up on all that I’m missing. And I
hope that she knows that I miss her and think about her and worry about her
every day. And I hope she knows that I love her. I hope that when J rises around the time that I finally go to
sleep (and he proclaims that it’s, “time to make the donuts”), and while he
works all day long to continue to pay for me to live here with the boys; that
he knows how much I love him and appreciate what he does to keep the remainder
of our family safe, and healthy, and loved while I’m here. I hope that they all
know that I’m with them every day even when I’m on the other side of this
ocean. I’m with them. And they are with me.
As much as I feel that with wifi issues and crappy cel
service here, that I am on the dark side of the moon; I hope they feel my love.
I hope they know that I’m doing everything I can to get home to them as soon as
possible. And preferably with two very sweet brown boys in tow. Because we are all SO over this.
All about the duck: (please come back duck…)
Let it out girl! Love this. At least you are still funny. You are so strong and everyone knows that.. Hang in there.
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