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