If We Invested in Funeral Homes, They'd Find a Cure for Death...

If I didn't know me, I'd think I was making up my own life. Seriously... how do these things keep happening to us?

On Tuesday we got word that Jessica's birth father had come to the orphanage and taken her back.

Anyone besides me having horrible, terrible flashbacks to the other times this has happened to us. We lost Lexi and Nathan in February of 2008. We lost Malot in October of 2008. Not to mention Asnica before we started Haiti.

We've had a horrible, terrible, no good, very bad few days.

As far as we know, Jessica's birth father hasn't had contact with her for at least a year and a half. She's not even 3 yet, so that's a very large portion of her life.

HE isn't the one that Jessica thinks of when she wants to know where her Papa is. He's not her Papa.

Today we got word that our contacts in Haiti have found someone from the area where Jessica's father lives and that they are working to get her back. The information we do have is positive as it appears that he does want to bring her back but has some issues he is working through. I don't have much more detail beyond that, but we're trying to have hope.

After all, we got Nathan back in October of 2008. Stranger things have definitely happened.

Please keep our Jessica and our little family in your prayers.

Thoughts and Prayers Needed

Please keep our Jessica and our little family in your thoughts and prayers. We need some miracles.

Is That a Judge in Your Pocket or.....

One of the frustrations with Haitian Adoption is the chaos. There’s no order, no rhyme, no reason…. It’s the embodiment of insanity.

Every time a new official gets elected, the first thing they do is change policy – to prove they have power, of course. There’s no “grandfathering” generally… every pending file gets to go back and pick up whatever random step they’ve just added.

Since we’ve been in this Land of Eternal Wait, we’ve seen families start after us and come home before us. Just today, I found out about a family (different agency and different orphanage) that came out of IBESR in August (that’s the office we were finally done with in May of this year) and they now have passports and they’re coming home. HOME! They flew out of Parquet (which is where we’ve been since May, essentially) in 20 days. TWENTY!

So a few months back we started to hear rumblings that there was a new process for Haitian Adoption. I first read about this during the summer. It sounded like they were going to start to require adoptive parents to attend a court date in Port-au-Prince. Supposedly, this new process would allow the judge to assure himself that the parents really want the child they’re trying to adopt (cause nothing else we do apparently gives that impression).

This caused some concern, as Haitians aren’t exactly known for keeping appointments. Everything kinda of runs on “Haitian Standard Time” which means “they get to it when they get to it”. It’s kind of hard to book flights with that sort of organization.

So during this last trip, they made arrangements for our group to meet with a judge and take care of this new step. We were excited that they were able to work this out while we were already in Haiti so that we didn’t have to make a special visit just for this. We were all very excited and our coordinator told us that she hoped this would speed up our files since we would have this new step completed.

So the day of our appointment comes. We load into the back of a tap-tap and off we go. I kind of had an idea of what I was expecting. I mean, when we went to the Embassy in Haiti; you go to a clearly marked building; you’re met at the door by a guard and they check you in and check your bags and you leave your cell phone at the desk. Of course, that’s a US office in Haiti, so of course it’s closer to US standards but I thought I could imagine how this might go.

You’ve never really seen garbage until you’ve been to Port-au-Prince. We passed piles of garbage in the middle of streets the size of Volkswagens. Wherever the rain carries the trash it where it goes and it piles and builds and rots.

Every low point gathers trash….

This picture is a CANAL. It’s completely filled with garbage. Somewhere below it is water and I don’t really want to know how they’re using that water….

We end up on this strange little side street with so much gunk on the road that it just smelled like an open sewer. The road was wet and rutted and I remember thinking that I really wished I was wearing something besides sandals because I didn’t want whatever THAT was on my feet.

I also remember saying outloud, “THIS is where we’re going?” There wasn’t really anything about the building or the area or the street that let you feel like you were in an “official” location for anything. It seemed like we were in a back alley somewhere.

We wove our way through a makeshift market that had apparently sprung up as people realized that the Americans were going to have to come to this place for the new process. People were thronging around us and begging for money or pleading that we would buy whatever it was they had. Our agency representative had told us to focus straight ahead and just head for the door, so that’s what we did.

We entered the building. It was tiny – a large room and 4 offices off the side of it. The entire room was under some sort of renovation. There were paint cans and glass and wood and various tools everywhere. There weren’t light bulbs in the sockets in the ceilings. There were also stacks of obviously used filing cabinets, piled at odd angles on top of each other on one side of the big room. One of the other moms leaned over to me and said, “You think our files are in one of those cabinets and that’s why we aren’t moving anywhere in this process?” We both laughed nervously while secretly hoping it wasn’t true.

What the building did NOT have was workers. There were no government employees. There was no judge. The only people there were the men painting the walls a vivid shade of fluorescent peach. (I don’t think Home Depot carries that color and I think I know why.)

We had been told to bring two copies of our passport pictures and two copies of the stamps from our passports showing that we had entered Haiti. Our agency rep handed our papers to the lawyer that works with our orphanage and our orphanage director. They shuffled through them and arranged them and animatedly discussed things in Kreyol. We just waited… standing around this room while trying to not step on any of the materials on the floor and stay out of the painters’ way.

I remember thinking it was a bit like a “People Zoo”. There were people milling about outside the small building and it seemed everyone was watching the group of Americans standing inside looking lost. We tried harder to look like we knew what we were doing and what was going on.

About 20 minutes later a man walked into the building. He and our lawyer discussed something in Kreyol and then the man headed down the hall to one of the offices. We were told this was the judge we’d been waiting to see and that we were to follow him.

He led us to the 4^th office. It was a small room with just a small metal desk and one chair. He sat in the chair and the group filed into the room. He started gesturing rapidly with his hands and saying something very sternly in Kreyol. Our translator said, ‘He doesn’t want you to stand in front of his desk” so we all squished closer together on the sides and waited.

The judge set down the books he was carrying. I looked at the top one and noticed it was a notebook. Someone had made the cover out of an American bra ad. You read that right- an advertisement for brassieres. It had a busty, white woman on it and in big text across the top it said, “Maidenform - $3.99 - Limited Time Only”.

That has all sorts of class and all of it “low”.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the orphanage director placed the photocopied passport pages of the first couple in front of “Judge Maidenform”. The judge pulled out another notebook. It was your basic Mead spiral bound notebook like you’d use in Jr. High for taking notes. You know… like this: He turned to a blank page and about ¾ of the way down the page he wrote something carefully in Kreyol. It had the date in it, so I’m guessing it said something like “appeared before me this day”. Then he turned the notebook around to the first couple and started jabbing with his finger at the blank space below his line of text. We all looked at each other with a “what the…?” look and our translator said, “He wants you to sign your names”. So they took the pen and signed their names in the space he wanted in this spiral notebook. He then turned to the next blank page and rewrote the same line in Kreyol and repeated the process with the next couple. He also signed his name on the photocopies of our passports. One woman’s husband wasn’t able to travel but she was able to get him to send a scanned copy of his passport. The judge told her to just sign his name as well.

When we all finished signing, our orphanage director carefully counted out 4 $100 dollar US bills and handed them to the judge. He folded them up and put them in his pocket. I heard later that he said he’d get them a receipt when they brought the rest of our group (the next 4 couples) the next day. I didn’t bother to find out if that actually happened.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is the new official record for this new process they’ve instituted. This new signature that supposedly has been “holding up” our paperwork. I can see how that’s possible. I’m sure the first thing Judge Maidenform is going to do with his little spiral notebook is go to the various offices where our papers are stuck and carefully explain to them that we’ve completed their requirement and our papers can proceed.

Yeah… I’m sure that’s what will happen…..

Clean the Corners

Haven't been posting much... it's been a busy couple of months. I haven't even really had to time to check in on my friends and family's blogs.

On some levels, this last trip was a tough one. It was hard to go and come back alone AGAIN. It was hard to see how sick our friends' little girl is. It was hard to see how crazy things are. It was hard to still have no end in sight.

I've heard that there's a saying in Haiti for when something completely bizarre or backwards happens. The locals just shrug their shoulders and say, basically, "That's just Haiti". They just accept whatever it is that happens.

That doesn't sit well with me. In my world, when something's wrong you fix it.

I posted earlier this week about the opportunity to make your voice heard with your elected officials regarding the unacceptable process for international adoptions in Haiti. I hope you'll take a few minutes and do that - even if you don't do it on the 3 days they've listed. It's still not too late to say something about it.

We can all imagine the emotional toll that an orphanage takes on a child. Let me share with you one tiny little infuriating, saddening, maddening thing about living in an orphanage.

To picture our orphanage, imagine a rambler style house.... maybe 1200 sq ft. 3 bedrooms, but only two are used as that. The 3rd one is storage. Now put 68 children in that house. Add aunties to watch the children. You get the idea.

When we got there this last trip, Nathan was filthy dirty. And he didn't feel well. This picture was taken in the first minutes that we got him. Our luggage wasn't at the hotel yet, but I had some treats in our hotel room. I didn't have anything to clean him up with or to put a clean diaper on him, etc, but I could feed him. You can see in his eyes how awesome he feels right about now. The fact that a strange white woman has just taken him only adds to that feeling, I'm sure.

My dear friend Pam should stop reading now. :-)

If you look at his nails in that last picture, you can see the dirt that's crammed under them. One of the other moms joked that it looked like he had a French manicure, but with black tips. They were long, they were filthy. It honestly looked like no one had cut his nails or helped him wash his hands since we were there in January.

When our luggage arrived, our first job was to get them cleaned up and in fresh clothes. I started cleaning Nathan's nails and the stench of the filth under his nails honestly made me gag. It was completely disgusting.

He was so patient while I dug the dirt out and trimmed his nails. Brent took a picture because the whole thing was so gross. Poor little Nate - he'd flinch if I got too deep while digging out dirt, but he didn't make a peep to complain about it.
This is his face, looking at Papa taking pictures of him while Momma digs the crud out from under his nails. My sweet little boy...
I remember someone saying that their mom taught them that when you clean the floor, you make sure you get the corners more than anything else. The theory is if you take care of the part that people probably won't notice, then the rest of it will definitely be clean.

I can't begin to list all the little things that are broken with being raised in an orphanage. And right now, it seems like no one is noticing. The corners are filthy and no one cares, so to speak.

You can say something. Help us let them know that things need to change.

These kids deserve better.

Blech

I dislike Mother's Day.
OK. I'll be honest... I despise it with the fires of a thousand suns.... I loathe every little Greeting Card Industry/"Every Kiss begins with K" fiber of its being. I hate Valentine's Day for the same reason. It's just another reason for Walmart to change out their impulse displays. And I find it maddening.

And then there's the requisite Mother's Day Church Program. Normally I do OK in Church on weeks when the talks are all about families and motherhood and how wonderful it is. My little friend, Cymbalta, even makes it so that I don't sob embarrassingly loud at the unfairness of such things. I can watch other women getting pregnant and having babies and blessing those babies and know that it will never, ever be me. And I'm usually OK with that. Usually...

The speakers yesterday where some kind men in our ward. On of them was our dear neighbor who told about how very much he's in love with his wife. I am so proud of Rob for being willing to share his feelings. I was very touched by his words. Your wife is amazing and the two of you pull together a lot to get the family environment you have.

And then they had the Primary children sing and the female teachers sang the counterpoint to their song. :

Mother, tell me a story that I love to hear. Tell me of heaven and how I came here.
Tell how you love me and gently speak and then I'll go to sleep.

Child, I am here, can you feel that heaven is near? Sleep, sleep a love watch I'll keep to protect you through the night.

And it hit me, as we were up there singing in front of all my neighbors... it so completely sucks that I can't say those words to my babies. That I'm not there to protect them. That they're probably sleeping on the tile floor because it's cooler than their bunks. That I'm NOT there for them.

And you know, even when they do come home, I'll still hate Mother's Day and I"ll still ache for the unfairness of it all. How often does life actually turn out the way we plan?

Deep, cleansing breath... The Lord Never Cheats Anyone. The Lord Never Cheats Anyone. The Lord Never Cheats Anyone.

Promised Thoughts...

I mentioned that I'm teaching the Sunbeams (3 yr olds) in church on Sundays. It's a lot of work, but so fun. They have the most sincere thoughts about things. It's been fun to listen to them and learn from them.

I didn't mention that one of my Sunbeams has a lot of struggles. They think he has some form of autism, but are still doing testing. He's definitely in his own little world. He doesn't really verbally communicate and he doesn't respond if you speak to him. He seems to be oblivious about what's going on around him. Sometimes he wants to run around and, given that our class sits on the floor, it's a bit like watching Godzilla trample Tokyo. The other kids don't like being stepped on, obviously, and it's always a challenge to get him redirected as he often doesn't like to be touched.

Sometimes my autistic Sunbeam will actually let me pick him up. Sometimes it seems like he's aware that I'm someone who cares about him. Most of the time when you pick him up, he goes ballistic. He's freakishly strong. He starts kicking and he panics. You have to try to minimize the impact - no one likes to be kicked, but little Sunbeams cry when they get kicked. I've been kicked in the head a few times. I'm honestly not sure that he's always aware that you're not going to hurt him. It's been an interesting few weeks, but we're figuring each other out.

While all this has been going on in Sunbeams and my work has been wrapping up this large project, we've also had to acknowledge that we really have no idea when our babies will be home. I wrote that post about realizing we would never need the nursery in our home. The next day we got an updated time line for Haitian adoption from our agency.

See, every time a new director of one of their offices comes into play, they have to assert their power and add a few steps to things. They never "grandfather" in the existing files - they send every file back to get whatever is now missing. And the US side, in the interest of supporting Haiti's right to govern how they see fit, also send back pending files to get the new steps Haiti inserts. That's a high level explanation, but you get the general idea.

This isn't anything official, but the agency let us know that based on what they're seeing it looks like the average adoption is taking up to 28 months. They gave an outline of the current time averages it takes to process paperwork in each of the respective Haitian government offices, etc.

We know that our papers are still in the first office. We've known this for some months. Yes, we've been at this forever and yes, we got our referral Oct 1, 2007. You have to remember we lost our kids a couple of times and had to start over again. But basically, eighteen months into this the way things line up, we are on month 5 in a process that could possibly take 28 months. After all this time, we're still not any closer to getting them home. If I go off their ages now and add 23 more months as my possible time line, then my little Nathan, who was just 2 months old when we got his referral, would be nearly 4 before we got him home.

So I spent some time trying to process that and trying to deal with it (you could call it "having a pity party" if you'd like). You go through all the frustration at processes beyond your control and grief that your children are being raised by rotating orphanage caregivers - their formative years are forming in such conditions - and OURS is a GOOD orphanage. It's just still not where I would have them be.

A couple of days later, I was talking with a friend who is also grieving over some heartbreaking things in her own life. We were exchanging emails and discussing the situation. We started talking about what it means to have faith and to 'become as a little child', specifically

"becometh as a child,submissive, meek, humble, patient, full of love, willing to submit to all things which the Lord seeth fit to inflict upon him, even as a child doth submit to his father."

and wondered together about what it means to submit to God's will on something so painful to you personally.

As we were talking (this isn't going to come out correctly), I could clearly see that sometimes, in many ways, I'm the autistic Sunbeam. I had this little image in my mind of the Lord trying to communicate to me and I'm so caught up in my little world that I miss it- completely oblivious to what He's trying to get me to learn. Sometimes I'm sure He's trying to comfort me and I'll bet that I've kicked him in the face a few times (if you know what I mean). I'm sure there have been moments where I'm a whirling dervish of "This adoption is never going to end" emotions, and God must be looking at me, rather like I was looking at my Sunbeam, with one eyebrow raised and wondering if I'll ever stop spinning long enough for Him to reach in and give some comfort.

We have such a limited view of things. I don't see what's going on in Haiti, but He's trying to help them answer their prayers as well. There are so many lives intertwined in this process. My perspective on this whole thing, when compared with God's eternal perspective.... I might as well be an autistic Sunbeam.

I know this is painful and I know it's an awful ordeal, but at the end of the day, the Lord Never Cheats Anyone. Those who seek, find. To those who knock, it will be opened. I have to trust that this is going to work out. Even if the process is being run by a bunch of us autistic Sunbeams, the Lord is still in charge.

Continued Prayers, Please....

My sweet friends found out today that the birth parents of the twin girls have decided to keep the babies. It's excruciating to go through this rollercoaster called adoption. Please keep Jason and Leslee in your thoughts and prayers.

LOST

We just found out that the birth mother came and took the kids back. We've lost our family, just like that.

She had gone into interview with USCIS and had signed their paperwork. They apparently asked for a DNA sample as they had some reason to question whether she was actually their mother. We've been told before that USCIS really grills the birth parents - "You know you'll NEVER see these children again" kinda thing. I don't know if that's what changed her mind.

That night, after the orphanage director had gone home, she came back with a car and demanded the children back. The police got involved. Apparently it was quite a scene. At any rate, the orphanage was forced to give them back to her. She also asked the orphanage for money, which they refused. It doesn't bode well for the situation they're now in.

I can't feel like this is over. It seems like it was a rash decision on her part and that she's not any more able to care for them now than she was initially.

Prayers. Please. I don't know what else to do.