Announcement

Feb 22, 2009

We have some big news. It actually all happened faster than we expected which is so un-Haiti-like. However Friday we found out that we will be granted the opportunity to be foster parents to a 3-month-old Haitian boy. We will proceed with adoption paperwork while having the opportunity to love and care for him in the meantime. Our hearts are full of expectant joy. His name is Solomon. He has beautiful almond shaped eyes, so serene, such pools of thought. He looks up at us with his soul-filled gaze and seems to have a million stories swimming in those brown depths. Holding him is a slice of heaven. His cheeks are 100% smoochable.

Patrick and I have been talking about starting a family for a long time, but I'm not yet brave enough to be pregnant and/or deliver in Haiti just yet. Our hearts, in the meantime, have been ready. And we find ourselves here, surrounded by children daily, walking into neighborhoods filled with families in so much need. Patrick and I started talking shortly after arriving about adoption. Walking into an orphanage and seeing so many children without options was more than we could rationalize walking away from. We never believed in international adoption before, had those pessimistic thoughts that it was a form of child trafficking or that we would be robbing a child of its cultural heritage somehow. But when you look eye to eye into need, it is hard to not try to do something for at least one. With hearts bursting with love to share, we couldn’t justify not sharing that love with a life that is already living and breathing.

We had planned on taking our time with the process… letting things settle out as they may. We spent time investigating our partner’s views on international adoption, feeling out how it is generally perceived here. We discovered a general belief that adoption was a loving solution to a very un-ideal situation. Obviously in a perfect world a child would be able to grow up in the care of its biological family, healthily, afforded food, education and health care. But such is not the realities of Haiti today for so many families here, for so many children. Yet having our partner's support in seeking out such endeavors essentially opened the doors for us. Gave us permission.

Then one Saturday in January, after a seminar on family, a man came up to Patrick. He works as a child advocate, so they commenced a conversation on the state of families and childcare here. Patrick mentioned off hand that we were thinking of adopting, and the man got excited. Alex started showing Patrick orphanages. And as much as Patrick loves kids, he loved the exposure. He was meeting orphanage managers, learning about the process, and being swarmed by the children of the orphanage. He thought he'd found a volunteer outlet here, and still we were in no hurry. And then he met Solomon.

Patrick felt moved by this child. Something about him was different and he completely stole Patrick's heart. I'll forever remember the day he came home after meeting him. He was kind of anxious, hyper, but with a dreamy look in his eye. "I met him, I met our child," he told me. I was mad. I didn't want to "pick" our child. Felt that was too much like going to the pound. And we had just started learning about the process. I refused to walk into the orphanages for sometime, I didn't want my heart to be shredded. And I wasn’t ready to meet Solomon. I knew the adoption process, like everything in Haiti, would likely be mind-numbingly frustrating and I didn't want a face to send spears of pain through that frustration. But Patrick couldn't keep away. And his connection to Solomon was growing. We started feeling distant from each other. Patrick was a mess, and he couldn't share it with me.

So I got brave.

And it helped to have Caroline and Trish with me the first day I entered. It proved to be every bit as hard as I expected. So many children... swarming, begging for touch, flashing their most charming smiles, rushing up to feel our skin, hair. The infant room had children just lying, waiting to be held, quietly fussing. It was too much. I looked at Caro wanting to run away. But we stayed. We found our courage. And we saw the beautiful children, and let them cling to us, let them wrap their arms and legs around us as we listened to their lungs and peeked in their ears.

And after clinic, I met Solomon. I couldn't hold him that day because he was getting IV fluids after a bout of diarrhea left him pretty fluid down. He wasn't happy lying in that crib, but looking into his face, I started to realize what Patrick saw. Little pools of thought in those deep, dark eyes.

And since then we've been back a lot, to hold, to get to know this little life that has somehow captured our hearts so unexpectedly. The subsequent times of going haven’t been as hard as the first one. The older kids teach us dances and hand jives while we hold Solomon. I sit on a chair, and am quickly flanked by 10 other children squeezing in beside me for hugs, cuddles, and funny conversation exchanges. Four hands or more are immediately in my hair braiding, more hands are pushing on my skin to watch my pink skin blanch white and go pink again. This apparently is quite fascinating. And all the while I get to hold Solomon who is completely serene amidst the chaos. He doesn't so much as fuss with all the hands tickling and stroking his head, pushing at his chubby cheeks. Each time I'm there, he'll fall asleep against my chest, I think simply content to be held. When I put him down, he wakes right up. He doesn't cry, just opens his big almond eyes as if to say, "not cool. I am quite aware that you put me down." I'll put my hand on his tummy until he falls asleep again.

So I, too, fell in love.

And with it comes a desperation when we aren’t with him, a deep desire to get him in our home, away from the noise, from the snotty noses and raging diarrhea epidemics into a place where he can rediscover human touch on a regular basis.

It makes me angry, a life situation that puts parents in such a place, a place to force them to make such ridiculous choices.

The last month and a half has been a whirlwind of emotion, yet in a country where it takes forever to run one errand, days to solve one problem, this process has seemingly fallen right into place at a remarkably rapid rate. I have to wonder if there is a reason for it all. It will be a challenge, on so many levels. It will be life changing and it will force us to do delicate dances with our heart as we strive to raise a Haitian boy sensitive to the place he comes from, the heritage that makes up his history, the culture that he was born into. But I feel like we were meant to meet Solomon all the while.

The adoption process itself will be tough. Solomon can't leave Haiti until he is legally ours, has a passport and a visa. This process will require 16-24 months. There is no rushing that. That means that Patrick and I won't be able to go home together for 2 years, and that Solomon won't be able to meet his grandparents, visit the farm or his cousins until he is over 2-years-old. We knew this going in, and its just one of the sacrifices we'll have to make, but we believe it is worth it.

We look forward to the unique experience of raising a Haitian boy, to love this child and give him the opportunity to grow strong, educated, to teach him pride in his culture, to know his language, and to continue a relationship with his biological family. We hope to honor his heritage, his culture, his identity through our love for him and through our love of the country of Haiti. Si bondye vle.