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 5th 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 11th 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.
