hallelujah!!

v sings her praises for hope house! she is one happy kid!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nCpa-Ip6fvA&feature=youtu.be

the day came

In keeping with the theme of posting ancient topics in my life several months past due, this is what was intended to be posted on February 14, 2014:

It happens!

I married the human calculator. and I've never been completely awesome at math. But I'm fairly certain (enough that I'll commit a number to a google search and publish my tally) that after 1,460 days, one day shy of four years, including one leap year day = 1,460 days exactly since we officially filed for permission to adopt from Haiti…and the boys are finally HOME! Happy Valentine’s Day 2014 – the year of the horse (and I’m a HORSE)!

Happy 10^th Anniversary to the love of my life. Thank you for living our dream with me. I love you.

10 months

March 12, 2014 

10 months ago today my boys left their orphanage with me. no more dirty mattresses. no more cramped, dank, and musky orphanage room. no more open air filled with mosquitos. no more bucket baths. no more rice and beans for their two daily meals. no more orphanage.  today marks 10 months of that much more love, the fulfillment of all of my promises to them, and 10 months of daily healing. tomorrow will be 3 months since they came home. we are 10 months closer to their futures. we are 3 months into our amazing lives of 4/5. please send your love to the children who continue to sleep on those dirty mattresses in those cramped, dank, and musky rooms with no mosquito nets. they deserve the love of a family. they deserve all of the wonderful things living has to offer. they deserve better. please celebrate that our boys are home. but please never forget all those who remain there.

cheers, ten  months. 

with love,

the club of bittersweet members.

flashback of agony. up. down. all around. my ridiculous emotions.

i wrote this sometime in early january, 2014. i had spent many nights lying in bed with too many thoughts. too many tears stained my pillow cases as i thought of leo lying in bed looking up at his rhino valentine. a momma and baby. a baby belongs with its momma. and i was an ocean away.

i'm not sure these words make any sense to anyone but me. but this is the scattered reality of my brain on adoption depression as i swiped ants off of my forehead and felt the sweat of haiti's nights drip down my chest.

Which way is up?
Which way is down?
Am I on the bottom looking up?
Or am I at the end looking back?
Am I at the beginning still waiting to start?
Am I at the end reflecting on all that has happened?
All are/is true. It's all happening.
It's all starting.
Again.
It's also all ending.

When will the day come?
Will it come fast enough?
Or too quickly?

Will I think that it’s too quiet
On the long and lonely nights?
I repeat in my mind, “let’s go home.”
The gun shots break the silence.
And I think of all the violence.

My heart needs the respite of my home away from this home.
How do I come to explain all that I have seen?
Thinking of bringing them home is just a dream.

Years and obstacles, countless tears. 
It’s all such all a waiting game.
A game.
There should be no such thing.

Tossing and turning, and flipping over in my sleep.
How do I explain everything that I’ve seen?
I’ve seen hunger.
I’ve seen pain.

A labor of love to live through each day.
Smiles that erase all of the strain.
With a love that I’m so thankful to have gained.

Write all these words down and share them with us.
They all say they’ll buy the book; on that I can trust.

Say all you can say. 
Don’t mind every look.
Keep your head up today!
And remember to write that book!

I read all the loving the words, as if they’ve been spoken, I’ve felt.
“We are all praying for you.”
“You’re doing the good work.”
“God is using you as his tool.”
Though I feel like a mule.
I heed the warnings and follow the rules.

But how can I start to explain,
How did we make it each and every day?
Crashing, colliding, trying not to drown.
Sorrow flooding me like an ocean.
I feel each wave pulling me down.

How can I try to explain?
For so long now my heart has beaten outside of my chest.
There are no more words for this pain.
And I have given all of my best.

Though I’m close, I am not yet done.
Victories will be mine, but they are not won.

How can I carry the torch beyond?
I’m leaving this island missing one.
My heart begs to stay until I’m done.
There is no bell I have not rung.

The night rushes in like thundering rain,
And my heart can’t take all this pain.
My last night so wished for will come so fast.
How to make our time now last?

Is it the end?
Or just the beginning?
Are we losing?
Or are we winning?

They sleep. 
It's quiet.
Their dreams are my comfort.
They wake.
They smile.
I enjoy their artwork.

I'd do it again a hundred or thousand times over.
I'm doing it today.
I'm finishing, but starting over.
Time to sleep, so down my head I lay.
We'll do this again tomorrow.
It will be a new day.

19 and counting

It has been three months. But I’m on my way again. Under the silver bird I once again saw the clear blue Caribbean sea. Long swaths of dusty clouds filled the skyline ahead of us and to the side. Breaking up the blue, I saw the islands of Turks and Caicos.  We were close. Within the span of my finishing a soft white dinner roll we would be descending. And then we would be turning left and heading into the bay of Port au Prince. And I’d wage through the sea of people to find someone waiting to help me hoist my bags onto a cart and wheel them over the broken concrete and out to the car waiting for me. A car driven by a good friend waits to then deliver me to the sweetest little smile in the world, V’s.

The future trips filled my mind. The many times I planned to arrive on the island I love so much…the breeze I couldn’t wait to feel that surrenders me feeling right at home in the heat and the dust. The breeze that reminds me how hot I am even though it feels so good to break up the stagnating heat causing the drizzle down my spine.  These future trips are what I think of every time I land in Haiti. I dream of how I plan to bring my children home to see their motherland, home to see their families, home to feel the heartbeat of this beautiful country; those trips are drawing closer. As many times as I am en route to Haiti, I still find myself anxious to arrive and breathe her in again. The feel of Haitian ground under my feet is a comfort that is hard to describe. It feels like home. My self settles. My mind relaxes. I feel at ease even though I’m nearly a complete stranger to so many. Still the same, the familiar faces I hope to see remind me that I am in fact, home.

We touched down and I followed the format I have so many times before. There was the greeting coming off the plane. Then the band playing just prior to customs. And then there were conversations with the bag handlers who recognized me. And the woman who rents the luggage carts. There were the familiar smiles from the ladies selling Barbancourt. A familiar face inspects my extra large bags…and I sort of wonder if they shuttle me through this area intentionally so that I can say hello to more smiling and familiar faces. And they are always willing to hoist my 70 lb bags onto the table to insure I am not smuggling medications or half a cow into this country. More smiles when I purchase the unlimited wifi for my Haiti sim card at Natcom. I peel off the tape that permanently holds my swap card on the back of my phone case and replace it with my Verizon card. This has become old hat. It’s a small symbol of the shift I make when I come to this country. It might seem odd. But in this time with communication options, it still strikes me as neat that I have the opportunity to communicate so freely here.  A few minutes after negotiating through the process, I was ready to begin my latest adventure in Haiti.

The piercing bright ball of fire in the sky seemed closer than ever when I emerged the building to look for the smiling face of my friend. And then he waved and the joy of seeing him was another reminder that I am so lucky to have made such beautiful friendships in this country. This man is like a father to my child. His wife, like a mother. They not only care for her now, but I know that they will be like family to us always.  We cover the basics of conversation while we follow the patterns and turns of the roads to find our way to the quiet neighborhood where my heart is nestled.  Along the way I found myself so happy to have a good conversation with a friend who lives his life for others; like my daughter. And in doing so, he and his wife live their life for my happiness. Because without them doing so, there is no possibility of my sanity. Thank you, God, for these people.

The new wall is almost finished. And the gate that keeps everyone safe opens…and we have arrived. She is one more door away. Oh the joy I feel when she walks toward me. The adjustment my eyes need to go from the brightness of the sun to the shaded inside of the building gives me a brief delay in seeing her. But she sees me right away. She is prepared. They have told her I’m coming. And she watched the door. She walked over to me and looked to search for familiarity. It took her a few minutes of sitting with me, freshly powdered neck, soft smell of fresh lotion, and perfect little twists in her now long hair (a huge sign of her improved nourishment and resulting health). Her big eyes searched with their little twinkle of old soul…and it clicked. “Mommy.” She said it with confidence and comfort. And she sat on my lap and filled my heart with the kind of overflowing love that melts me every single time.

Mommy is home, love. Mommy is home. 19 times and counting.

this mother's day was just right

not too hot, not too cold, but just right.

this mother's day could have been drastically different. it could have resulted in my desire to stay in bed all day with the covers pulled over my head. just as several christmases and other holidays have in the past four years. though i never give in to those dreaded feelings and do my best to put one foot in front of the other and buck up for britt and leo; this mother's day could have absolutely done me in. that is, if it weren't for the comfort of knowing that i hadn't left v behind in haiti with no hope. i left her in haiti in the loving arms of hope. hope house.

and when i woke up on mother's day to the beautiful smile of my youngest little love, i was able to get out of bed and firmly plant my feet and begin the best mother's day yet. v was happy. and i was happy to fully celebrate my day with britt, leo, djedly & parker with significant joy and happiness knowing that v knows how much she is loved.

thank you and happy mother's day to my dear friend mallery who made sure that mother's day was this beautiful! thank you to the beautiful soul who created v, edline. happy mother's day to ephetta, the loving woman who created my sweet boys. happy mother's day to darline. happy mother's day to my moms. happy mother's day to j's moms. and happy mother's day to all the beautiful mother's in our lives.

a book for v

i took advantage of a free 20x20 book coupon from shutterfly.com and made v a sweet little book. i'm looking forward to taking it to her on my next trip to haiti.

http://share.shutterfly.com/action/welcome?sid=0AasWTJo1atGLmo&cid=SFLYOCWIDGET

the balance of life in haiti

please please please please please read this blog. my awe-inspiringly amazing friend mallery somehow finds the sliver of time to carve out of her day to post about what happens in haiti and at hope house where v lives and thrives. for every horror story i can tell you about haiti, i can share a miracle. for every up there is a down. i've never experienced the balance of life the way i have in haiti. her words could have dripped from my own mouth. please read this and know that there are people with beautiful hearts who are doing relentlessly exhausting but completely necessary work day in and day out to offer haiti's people a chance to improve their lives.  the haiti foundation against poverty is an honorable and sustainable and fully trustworthy source for you to help haiti if you're so inclined. they are good people who always do the right thing. always. we are so thankful for them. so many are thankful for them. they help in ways that most of us can't comprehend. daily. fully. please let this serve as an example that haiti deserves their love and our love and everything we do for haiti is worth it.

the top post is from a day i was there. it was v's 2nd birthday among everything else that took place. no child deserves the injustice of losing his/her family, home, and culture. adoption is not a cure, but rather a band-aid. it wouldn't be my first choice for any of my children to have experienced the losses they have so that i could proudly raise and love them. and in my work to repair my children, i'm very happy to know that people like frentz and mallery neptune are doing everything in their power to give hope and love and make sure that all of the children at hope house are part of a family. hope house is a home. we are very proud to call the neptune's our friends, and i would love for you all to get to know them through the work they do.

i will gladly take any donations you'd like to send my way, including dark chocolate pretzels. ;-)

http://www.haitifoundationagainstpoverty.blogspot.com

getting HOPE back

Calm. Secure. Trusting. Comforted. Eased. Happy.  These are all words that come to mind now. These are the very last words I would have used to describe my feelings over the past year.

Lying with my forehead on the floor of my living room with hot tears dripping from my eyes straight to the floor, gasping for breath and trying to search my thoughts for how I would explain my behavior was the last thing in the world that I thought would be a scene from the first day our boys spent at home. There was no keeping the emotions at bay upon hearing that V, scared and confused, was heading back to Maison from Hope House after a night of comfort and freedom and love.

As the boys and I were leaving Haiti on Feb. 13, 2013 V was headed to Hope House. She had her doll. And the welcoming arms of dear friends awaited her. She sat down at a little table in her own little chair and ate her lunch. She held onto her doll and looked at photos of our family.  I was finally taking the boys home after 4 years in process and 7 months of living in country. And V was safe. She was loved. She was happy. It was one of the best days of my life.

Among the happiness of her transfer and the delirious joy of bringing the boys home, I didn’t think that there was any room in my heart for fear or despair. Until it became obvious that there were issues with her family and her relinquishment. Her aunt refused to come and formally relinquish her. And we were told that she would need to return to Maison. My head spun hearing this. The breath sucked out of me like a backdraft. And the plume of fury and sadness and rage and disbelief sat like a festering bubble until I couldn’t keep it inside anymore and when it surfaced, I found myself crying the ugliest of ugly cries; once again terrified that I was losing my daughter. One year to the day that we lost her referral, we were potentially losing her completely.  She was sent back to the place we had finally rescued her from. She was free. She was free! And now she would be back in a cage. My heart shattered knowing that she was simply slipping through our fingers. And despite everything that the amazing advocates of Hope House wanted to try to do, they will always stand on the right side of the law – and it would have been illegal for them to keep her without a legal relinquishment. Their hearts broke with mine when she was returned. I felt sisterly love as I was told in person on the phone how devastated they were to see her leave. I can’t think of a more touching way for someone to give me the horrific news that my daughter was returning to the conditions we had just delivered her from.

A decision was made to call “a bluff”, and demand that her family either comply with the process of her adoption or come and pick her up and raise her. After all she was relinquished with the intent of adoption. And at just under two years in process for her adoption, though I couldn’t stomach the thought of losing her; I could less handle the idea of her sitting in an institution for the rest of her life when she could be living with loving family. Upon hearing that she would need to be picked up and taken home or relinquished to Hope House, her aunt abruptly changed her tune and picked V up and relinquished her to Hope House the following day. February 15, 2013 will be another day in a series of celebratory happy days in our lives. February 13 is our homecoming anniversary for the boys. February 14 is my favorite holiday, Valentine’s Day.  It is also our anniversary. One day it will be a true V day. February 15 is now the day miracles happen. And February 16 is my birthday. I honestly know that a miracle – no – several miracles took place. Without miracles, I would still be in Haiti with my boys. And without miracles, V would be in a cage.

Instead, she is laughing, and playing, and growing, and loving and being loved. She is happy. She is healthy. She is safe. She is loved.  And instead of crying and finding myself on the floor in tears, I found myself leaping for joy, crying happy tears that we experienced this phenomenal change of heart and beautiful opportunity to commence with the process to bring our sweet v home.

I am calm. I am secure. I am trusting. I am comforted. I am eased. And I am happy.

Thank you to everyone at Hope House. This is how it should be

Coming to AMERICA!

Djedly & Parker are finally coming home!

17 trips to Haiti, 7 months of living in country with the boys, and 4 years to the day that we started the process, the boys will wake up at home on Valentine's Day 2014.

We're coming to America TODAY!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LFl7AL6Hzo8&feature=youtu.be

17 times

16 times our hearts ripped wide open.

With I love you’s and I’ll see you soon’s all spoken.

But never again will we be so broken.

For 16 was enough.

And now all we have is love.

16 times I left you both so broken.

Promises I’d return to you were spoken.

You didn’t close yourselves off.

You’re open.

Receiving all my love.

16 times our fears were strengthened.

Every time I left the ground was shaken.

The winds that carried me home were whipping.

Scars on my heart kept the deep hurt aching.

I wanted you in my arms.

But 16 times our hopes were dampened.

16 times our bonds were not broken.

16 times left us waiting for one day.

But we did not know when.

How many days we longed for it?

How many nights did we hope for it?

How many tears did we shed for it?

For the day we would be done.

But 17 times we have laughed together.

17 times we have grown by measure.

And 17 times we’ve prepared for forever.

For all the good and the bad.

All of the sorrows, sadness and heartbreak,

How much more will our tattered souls ache?

My tortured mind just simply now cannot take,

Another bomb or loss.

But after waiting so long,

Our bonds they remain so strong.

And all of this waiting is now done.

For our day has finally come.

Now come, let’s enter our life.

You can step from pain and from strife.

You can keep your past safe in your pocket.

You can keep it with you in a locket.

You can leave it behind if you wish.

Your life is your very own gift.

You can have now all that you need.

Lets take this step and you’ll see.

There is so much that you will now be.

The choice is your own.

Let’s leave and we’ll blow it a kiss.

There is so much that you will miss.

But I love you,

I promise you this.

And together we will be.

Bravely now come take my hand.

I’ll take you to a new land.

We have journeys ahead to wander.

There are times that we will ponder.

But together we will conquer,

All that life has for us.

16 times we’ve hoped we’d make it.

16 times we’ve had to take it.

And 16 times we’ve wiped our tears.

But thank you 17, you wipe all our fears.

Down to the day it has been four years.

But we are now done.

For you are mine and I am yours.

Today we will see a brand new shore.

And our faith will now fully restore.

For our day has finally come.

And your new life we have won.

Seeking Approval - AGAIN

Never in my life have I been so desperate to seek approval.

We have been sitting pretty in IBESR for exactly ten months as of today. By comparison, the boys had entered, gained approval, sat for presidential dispensation, received dispensation, received the director’s signature, and exited IBESR in eight months. So to say that I’m antsy and ready for some news on V would be a colossal understatement.

I’m itching for movement on her and have been for over a year. We started the process to adopt her in July of 2012 and yet here we are so very far long after that trying to find the patience to continue to wage through this process to be granted the opportunity to adopt her.

While I’m basking in the blissful success of finding out yesterday that our boys have received USCIS approval for their visas, I’m feeling the added stress of knowing that I’ll be leaving Haiti soon – and possibly with no more information on V’s adoption than when I arrived here in July of 2013. Yes, that’s right – a full year after starting the process to adopt her. At least until November 2013 I was allowed to see her, but that ceased when the new adoption law here in Haiti was printed in the legal magazine/paper, Le Moniteur just prior to Thanksgiving. I haven’t seen her since that day. While the passing of this new law should have been a good thing, it has marked a time frame that reflects a gaping wide loop-hole in the implementation of expected positive change that families like ours are drowning in.

My recent facebook post is a small indication that after four years of adopting from Haiti, I’m really losing my cool:

“i get lots of messages about v. and i have not had much that i can share. the past 8 weeks have been horrible. i miss her dearly. for that matter all of 2013 completely sucked and i've cried more this year than any year of my life. and being 18 months out from starting her adoption and being nowhere closer to bringing her home hurts very deeply.

i've come to find out that members of for his glory (fhg), the group that sponsors our orphanage, maison des enfants de dieu, recently traveled to our orphanage. accompanying an adoptive mom who is the president of the board of fhg, was another adoptive mom. though i fully support visits to our orphanage as i feel that all parents should be able to see their children as often as possible; it hurts to know that a family who is in ibesr (like we are), who is under the new law (like we are), who is not currently referred their child (like we are), was allowed at the orphanage to see their child (we are not). we were told 8 weeks ago by the director, pierre alexis, that under the new adoption law passed here in haiti, that it is ILLEGAL for me to be at the orphanage. it is ILLEGAL for me to see my daughter. until the office of ibesr re-matches our files, we are not allowed to see v.

so why is this family allowed to see their daughter? because of friendship and privilege. friendship that i no longer have with those who sponsor the orphanage because i spoke the truth about what has happened to us. and privilege that i don't have because i'm not a radio personality. i'm not a deep pocket donor. i'm just a MOM.

so my update on v is that i have no idea when i will see her again. and apparently there is no real reason why. we can't get any word on her process. all i know is that she is still sleeping in the baby room, which means that she is still kept in a cage-like crib with a side that is tied closed when she is not being supervised. she is not learning how to play or talk with children her age as she should be. and she is NO CLOSER TO COMING HOME.

i am two miles away from where she is tonight, and the only thing i can do with the information that i've come to find out that is killing me from the inside out is to share the truth. i have contacted my agency. i have requested that they reply with a date for when i can see my daughter. this is unacceptable.

i can not and will not hide what is happening to our family. we have been continually lied to, ignored, used, and mistreated in this process. my boys have been in this country far longer than they should be. i never should have had to move to haiti to process my own adoptions. and my daughter should be coming home not sitting tied into a cage. i want my daughter.

pierre alexis should be ashamed of himself. screen shot this. re-read it. shake your head. say what you will if you want to talk about me behind my back. i will blog about it too. call the for his glory lawyer. i'll refer him to our lawyer. they already know each other.  tell who ever you would like. this is not right. anyone who thinks that it is should be ashamed of themselves. anyone who thinks that my speaking out is damaging, is living in the same fear that kept me quiet for so long. no more. i will no longer allow fear to guide my actions. my daughter deserves better than this.

i shouldn't have to blow kisses at a gate while others are allowed passage through to see and love their children.

veronika, i love you more than words can say, and i will fight for you with every nano-ounce of my being. i won't give up on us.”

The last real update we received on V was that her file was re-submitted to IBER on November 29^th. Apparently her file, when submitted on October 21^st, was rejected, thus, the need for a re-format.  Additionally, though we have been told by several people who are aware of the new process IBESR is following under the new law that we should be receiving a file number for our daughter’s submitted file, we have been repeatedly told by our orphanage director, Pierre, that he did not receive a file number. After ten months of our parent file sitting in IBESR awaiting approval, we also have no word from our orphanage or either of the lawyers appointed to our case by our agency or our orphanage. It has been a long ten months.

To put our case into perspective, children who were processed efficiently by our orphanage, as our daughter should have been, now have passports and are very close to coming home to their families and we are still awaiting approval for the permission and the re-match of her file to ours so that we can begin the process to adopt her. And another week has rolled into another month has rolled into another calendar year since we fell in love with her and we still know nothing. And she continues to sit in her cage.

I came across an example online of a family who posted that they were matched with their child in September 2012, exited IBESR in June 2013 and brought their child home – HOME January 21, 2014. This is how it should have been for all of the children caught in the gaping loop-hole. They shouldn’t be sitting in cages waiting for someone to make a decision. They shouldn’t have to spend their lives while someone uses them as a paycheck.

I am asked periodically what I think of the two agencies and the orphanage that we work with, and I am always very honest.

“i will give props to CCAI if anyone is looking to use them. our adoption counselor with ccai is my sanity. we use two agencies and are adopting three children from the same orphanage. we started the process four years ago with children of all nations. our boys are with can. i have been living in haiti for the past six months and have had no help finishing the process to adopt my two boys who i've had in my custody since i got here. i have had to correct documents and have learned that i had falsified documents. my boys are the longest current outstanding referral at our orphanage. and due to a lack of proper facilitation, my daughter's adoption (through ccai) has been stalled for the past 18 months. as of right now, i'm not even allowed to see my daughter because i'm a pre-matched family being processed under the new law. i feel that there is a huge problem with transparency, honesty, and a total lack of professionalism at our orphanage. the kids need better resources, and the parents are not utilized as resources, but merely as mules to bring donations. the standard time frame at our orphanage is also absurdly long. and i am one of many very unhappy parents. there are several happy parents, some of whom are in this forum who are on the board of a group that supports our orphanage. so they have a happier story than i do. but they never would have been given falsified docs.”

Apparently my being vocal has struck some nerves and I’ve been warned several times that I may not be safe living in Haiti. I will not be silenced. My daughter sits in a cage. If I could place a cone of shame on the necks of the lawyers and the orphanage director, I would. Enough is enough.

While half of me is parading and dancing in the delight that my boys can FINALLY COME HOME, the other half of me is still in a festering pit of despair that I have no more information on how or even if I will be able to take my daughter home.  But the gloves are off and bombs are away, and I’m going to do everything I can with sails full of hurricane force winds and tides raging and pushing my little ship toward the adoption success shore. I will fight this good fight. She deserves us and we deserve her and I will not stop until she is running around my kitchen with footed pajamas and afro puffs; with that beautiful smile and those huge eyes looking at me contented – and HOME.

The boys and I will leave Haiti on February 13, 2014. It will be seven months and one day since I arrived in Haiti to bring them home. It will be the 17^th flight home to Pittsburgh since starting this process. And it will be the final one without them. We have been in this process for four years.  Officially as of Valentine’s Day 2014 when we will mark the day we submitted our home study to USCIS for permission to adopt from Haiti a mere month after the earthquake of 2010 and they will be home with us. But we will be far from done.

The fat lady will sing while V rings her little bell all the way home – one day.

Happy Dance!!!

Happy DANCE!!!

The boys received visa approval on Friday, January 31^st!!!! I woke up at exactly 7:26 am and laid in bed trying to plan the conversation I would have when I called the embassy. I was terrified. We hadn’t received a rejection notice of any sort, but there was still room for error. And when I got up a few minutes later, filled with a bit more nerve, and driven by conviction, I heard the familiar “ding!” that I’ve been addicted to for the past four years. DING! Hmmm…..I thought perhaps I should check my email (really I was just using this as an acceptable stall tactic to delay the phone call a few more minutes and let my nauseated stomach settle a little more), and yet when I opened my email there it was.

USCIS APPROVAL

The words I scrolled through became increasingly blurry and the tears that flooded down my cheeks hit my chest and my hand and the phone. We received approval! The boys were coming home!!!

I felt my knees start to give. And yet I didn’t want to sit on the stairs. I’ve spent too much time crying on those stairs. I’ve also had a cockroach run up my skirt while sitting on those stairs. And yet I couldn’t go downstairs and sit because I would lose the wifi signal. So I leaned on the dirty plaster covered concrete wall and tried to gain some semblance of composure. And then I called J. I kept trying to say that we were approved, but I was crying so hard I could barely get the words out of my mouth, “APPROVED!” I tried to yell but not so loudly that I would wake the boys up. I knew they would be happy, but I also wanted them to have their rest. We were all up pretty late the night prior unpacking and discovering the few new gems I brought back with them from my week at home in the states for my remicade infusion. “APPROVED?!!!!!” He said, “Just send me an email! I can’t understand you!” And so I sent it. And then I cried some more. We are going home. The boys are FINALLY FINALLY FINALLY GOING HOME!!!!

I noticed the time stamp on the email when I sent it to J. It read 7:26. ;-)

I spent the day filling out documentation and fielding emails from the embassy. We initially received a visa date of Feb. 18^th, but they very generously received my request and honored an earlier appointment. The boys are now scheduled for a visa appointment for Friday, February 7^th! We are in “go time” speed now. Everything is like a time warp. I have scheduled for rides for doctor’s appointments, and I have been feverishly planning, packing, and purging. It is time to go home!!!

This next week will be a furious bur of activity; but we are so very ready to go home! I cannot wait for the day we leave. We are expected to come home on February 13^th. We will likely be arriving at 11 pm in Pittsburgh. I have landed in Pittsburgh 16 times without the boys; and now I will finally leave on a plane with them and watch as they experience a whole new world and a whole new beginning to their whole new lives. So many times I’ve left Haiti and thought about how the outside world will hit them. How they will take it all in. How they will feel. What they will smell. What they will hear. What they will see. And it is finally going to happen.

WE ARE GOING HOME!!!!

Camping Indoors

With the questionable water, the tricky outlets (if they work at all), constantly needing to use extension chords, and the perpetual infiltration of some sort of insect, the regular loss of electricity and wifi, and every transportation need essentially requiring the mad negotiation and coordination skills of running a small country; it is no wonder that I’m a little over my experience here in Haiti.

This country has so much beauty to offer. And yet, we are on an extended camping trip indoors just a short jog away from the capital…the heart of all things broken here.

Daily life is a balance.  We have our basic necessities covered. We are sheltered, we are fed, and we are safe. But I long for the real comforts of my real home. I don’t have to shower with my shoes on at home. I can open my mouth in the hot hot hot shower. Oh how I miss hot water. All of our showers are cold. Not cool. Cold. And I’m terrified of the shower curtain (I actually have one), as well as the rug on the floor. No one could pay me to touch that rug. And the towels…the towels are an abrasive former towel-like object that more resemble and feel like a cloth version of sandpaper. At least I’m getting my exfoliation done.

I don’t have to worry that a variety of unidentifiable insect will consume my food or explore my toothpaste at home.  I keep our home away from home tidy, but the difference between this home and the one I long to return to, is that despite the size of our tiny dwelling, the maintenance of our little place in Haiti is much more laborious and frustrating. Everything is constantly dusty and gross here. Random things become sticky…even when there’s no explanation for how or why they became so. Sometimes I’m glad I don’t know how or why something happens here. Naïveté is bliss. There is so much debris from burned trash in the air all the time that it settles and even indoors we find a thick layer of dust on everything daily. 

I feel like we eat Haiti MRE’s. Our food is regimented. I have absolutely eaten my life’s allotment of rice, spaghetti, mac n cheese, pizza, and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Eating here is like being on a ferris wheel of carbo hydrates. The carb rotation, as I know it to be, can be so frustrating at times. I love food. I love variety. And I’m ready for a nice platter of change. I miss things like salad, and veggies. Just basic veggies. If I could pour salad dressing on a farm right now and chow down I would be in a new form of Heaven!! It would be bliss. I miss bruschetta so much that I have actually dreamed that I was able to order it on Amazon and have it shipped. Clearly my dreamscapes have my priorities squarely in check!

And cheese. Glorious cheese. Someone I know who lives here in Haiti has always requested cheese. And I never quite understood why. And then a friend arrived and brought me a hunk of Wisconsin cheddar cheese and my love affair with cheese was instantly rekindled. Omg I’ve never loved cheese so much!!! I became an inflammation balloon ready to scream out in agony because I practically ate half a block of cheese on two pieces of amazing toast with salted butter four days in a row; but it was totally worth it. I am not prepared to blame the spasms on the cheese, but will rather happily blame the disease I have likely caused by the Mexican antibiotics that cured everything that ailed me as a kid, and will gladly devour cheese again if it is given to me. That cheese unexpectedly temporarily soothed my emotional ailments. I felt happiness as deeply as my soul and I ate enough cheese to fill me from “tet” (head) hair follicles to toes. THANK YOU for the cheese.

Obtaining food is a process. For instance, a ride to the grocery store will cost me at least $30. I have a selection of stores, though. I can go to Delmas 2000, which has been designed to be a “one stop” shop location and contains a “TJ Maxx” like store, a store I’ve come to referring to as “China Town”, another we call “Sears”, and the grocery store. Delmas 2000 is also conveniently located across the street from a restaurant that we really like called Kokoye. Nanda, the owner, and her husband have done a really good job with Kokoye. The food is great and the prices are decent, which is really hard to come by here. Being inside Kokoye is like entering a portal to another city. There is air conditioning. It’s clean. And it helps push the reset button that we need pressed periodically.  We can get groceries, lunch and dinner to go all in one errand. Typically, I do this about once a week or so, as we try to minimize our outings for safety reasons. There are a couple of other stores we shop at as well, Star 2000 and Delimart both have a decent selection of items. So it really depends on what I need, but I can typically find anything I’m looking for (within reason).  Except veggies that I am craving, and the ingredients to make the bruschetta my soul needs.

There is a fast food chain here that has been compared to McDonald’s. While I’m not hip on McD’s with the exception of their french fries, I have to say that Epi’Dor doesn’t hit that spot for me. The kids LOVE it. And what I’ve come to find comfort in, is that their favorite meal at Epi’Dor is this incredible chicken that knocks their socks off. They talked about it for well over a year before we had the opportunity to go there, and when we finally did I was hoping that I could recognize flavoring or seasonings used so that I could make at least a measly attempt at recreating their favorite dish. To my delight, their delicacy is none other than rotisserie chicken. That’s right. Good old, plain and simple, rod and twist rotisserie chicken. AWESOME. There is another fast food place Muncheez, I’ve heard a lot about around here, but I’ve never been. We have been invited to lunch with another ex-pat family and I can’t help but laugh when I think that a restaurant here may have been named by some high college student. You just can’t make this stuff up.

When we are not eating out (which is 95% of the time), I make a lot of one pot meals. We only have one working outlet in our kitchen, and our refrigerator is plugged into one of the sockets. So that only leaves one socket available for us to cook. I have an electric griddle/casserole dish that I can make just about anything in. I can bake, fry, boil, and grill in it. So I have to get creative sometimes and try to do as little prep as possible to create a whole meal in one pot. Like I said, indoor camping. Without the ash cakes. Periodically, a large lizard will perch itself on the lid of my griddle. I have told the boys that he/she wants to help cook and that we should fashion a chef hat for it and call it Ratatoulle. Mainly because I haven’t come up with a clever lizardesque chef name. I’m all ears if anyone has a name for my cooking compadre!

With all this carb eating, I was initially very happy to maintain the size 6 I arrived in Haiti at. Hot sweaty yoga without the yoga was working so well!  I called it the croissant diet. And I’ve enjoyed the salted butter and bread diet so much that I’m no longer feeling like a size 6. Crap. I don’t sweat as much now that I’ve acclimated to the heat, and I fear that I’m getting fat again. This sucks. I’ve definitely lost muscle definition and feel like I’m getting jiggly again. I’m dreading the scale at home. But I know that I did the hard work and ate the right foods to get back into shape. And I’ll do it again. I just really want to do it again NOW.

There are things that I will miss when we go home. I have learned that I love kenips (little round fruit that grows on trees in bushels here), and Haitian almonds. I also love Haitian Coke because it’s made with sugar cane syrup, and it’s fantastic. The upside down label also makes me chuckle. Haitian potato chips are also seriously fantastic. They’re basically a kettle chip. Although the boys continually argue that they are not made of potato. Neither are Pringles. Because potatoes are gross. Ok what ever, boys. We eat a lot of Bongu cheese too. Bongu is like Laughing Cow, only it is made in Egypt of sugar cane milk and shipped to Haiti for packaging. It has the same consistency and is used the same way laughing cow would be; but apparently Laughing Cow will not be an acceptable replacement for Bongu. So shoot me now.  We eat American apples. And they are about $1 a piece. But it’s worth it. There are a lot of food and beverage options that are shipped into the country. I sprang for a carrot juice for the boys at Epi’Dor one day, and to our dismay, when Parker opened his juice, a tiny cockroach was taking a swim. PITCHED that one! I won’t miss cockroaches.  I won’t miss tarantulas. I won’t miss ants. I won’t miss gunshots. I won’t miss the mosquitos. There’s so much I won’t miss.  Enough of this indoor camping without the hiking trail. I’m ready for some cold weather (I can not believe that I really am), a fruit and veggie diet, and my elliptical machine. It’s time to blow this salted butter and Haitian Coke POP STAND and go home!!!

It's obvious that I miss food. And it really is such a huge part of daily living here. Trying to figure out what to eat. Water is another huge issue. We can't consume what flows from the tap. And we use about 5 gal of water daily. I can either pay for water, or we can haul it from a Culligan container at the reception desk of the hotel every day. So that's what we do. I have a reinforced bag and we use recycled milk bottles fulfill our daily water needs. We wash dishes and cook all of our food with bottled water. I have a container in the refrigerator that we keep filtered water in to drink and for making juice. I can't even explain how nice it will be to return home to brush our teeth, wash our hands, wash our dishes, cook our food, and shower in clean water without the risk of illness. In addition to "Haitian Happiness", which is a well known and greatly dreaded GI response to filthy water consumption here, I am also highly prone to staph infections here. And in an awesome way, I typically get them on my face. I currently have one and am using a topical antibiotic to treat it. I think I've had four in the past six months. But this one is by far the worst, and I will likely have to get on an oral antibiotic for it as it has spread really badly in the last three days. Unfortunately, I don't have very many choices here. And I have to bathe. So I run the risk of it continuing to spread. SELAVI as they say. DEGAJE. All meaning, "It is what it is."

In addition to the culinary cutie I have visit my kitchen fairly regularly, I've also recently been seeing more tarantulas. This is not what I signed up for. And it seriously makes me want to set the whole apartment on fire and run home screaming. But I have to "big girl it up" a bit and seek the pests and find them. If I can't remove them without the risk of being bitten, then they must die. Unfortunately, today I found one in my closet, and it got away from me. So now every hair on my body is on end. And I'm not sure that I'll be able to muster up a mind over matter trick for myself to sleep well tonight. It's already bad enough that every time I feel like a small piece of hair is touching my forehead, I realize that it is an ant. I'm so over the ants. They infiltrate my whole apartment. They're truly awful. I have at least four kinds of ants, too. Red ones. And they bite! Flying ones. And they bite too! And huge black ones that lead the way for the smaller black ones. Several times we have left our apartment and come back to find hundreds of them in a group on our floor. It's as if they know we've returned, so they all retreat to the walls. It's crazy. We also have termites. They leave a visible tunnel of sawdust on the wall. So we always know where they are. They are white with a brown stained pincher on the tip of their heads. And they bite too! I've had to keep everything in bags because they will eat through cardboard. Then there are several kinds of kitchen bug that have invaded my sealed pastas and rices. I had to pitch my whole container of powdered butter because what ever Haitian "weebles" are, they LOVE powdered butter. 

We lose power several times a day. It's the norm. We wait a few minutes, and without fail the generators kick on and we again have our needs met. The only time this is truly awful is when you're in the shower. So you hope that you've got soap in your hand or something useful as you'll be standing in the pitch dark in a cold shower, unable to see a single thing. So you might as well give something a little extra scrub for a few minutes and hope that something isn't hiding behind the dreaded shower curtain waiting to attack you in the dark. I've spent a few nights standing in the shower stall praying that my own personal arachnophobia hell doesn't come true. Then I'd definitely wind up touching the shower curtain because I'd have to jump out of the shower, possibly Kung Fu style. And then I'd definitely step on the rug. I'd probably blow out my flip flop. I'd open my mouth to scream, which means the horrible Haitian water would definitely get in my mouth. And then as I'm lying in bed with a horrid case of Haitian Happiness, I'd be terrified that the vengeance of the brothers and sisters, and mothers, and fathers, and cousins, and children, and God-Father's of the tarantula that I killed in my kitchen will be exacted on me in my weakest moment. And there's no clicking your heels three times, and saying, "There's no place like home!" to get me out of that one. Yeah...that's a true fear of mine. It could happen. Just like that. But then the lights usually come back on, and I take a survey of everything and find that it's still just me standing in the cold shower doing a little rub a dub dub, and my evening continues normally.

Normally. DAMN. None of this should be normal. It's time to go home. I think I’ve had enough indoor camping to last a lifetime. Yep! DEFINITELY TIME TO GO HOME!

words for my children

we are under the same moon

and under the same bright stars

when you wake in the morn

and when you lay down at night

know this in your little hearts

that one day all will be right

we didn’t start life together

but our paths have crossed for good

my arms will give you shelter

And my heart will give you food

you have grown a bit for now

but you’ll grow in love still more

i’ll cross oceans to come see you

and together we’ll stand on the shore

there are days and tears and promises

that will be kept to make you whole

please offer me your forgiveness

together we’ll be forever more

no our road it is not easy

there are hills and mountains high

but the breeze will blow so sweetly

as together we will climb

always know that i love you

i will never leave you behind

and when i tell you goodbye

know i’m coming back in time

your face is burned in my mind

even when i try to sleep

i toss in my evenings

for i wonder when you weep

there’s an aching in my soul

without you in my arms

how i long for our days

when i can start to fix the harms

you are my sweet little boys

and my darling little girls

our time is just beginning

but the beauty will unfurl