Referral and what it all means....

I’ve been writing just not about my personal life. I write for work and I write for my Masters degree, but I have been hush about my feelings and emotions in the past few years. I have questioned my faith, my life direction, and my past decisions. Who wants to hear about the struggle until there is a moral to the story or lesson learned or rainbow over the steaming pile?  

I haven’t been sharing about our 2^nd adoption because there hasn’t been anything to share. Every time I heard a blip of news, I wouldn’t share it because it would evoke questions that all had the answer, “We really have no idea.”

“Why does it take so long?”

“Why can’t they just let you adopt her? You’ve already adopted from Haiti once?”

“Is there anything you can do to speed up the process?”

“Why is it taking so long?”

“What is the hold-up?”

“What are they waiting for?”

“Don’t they know she has a family waiting for her?”

See?

To chronicle the past almost 6 years, here comes a snapshot of our family’s adoption story:

I came home from meeting her November of 2012 at the age of about 2 weeks and immediately started talking to our adoption agency about adopting this little girl. There is a stipulation that children under the age of 1 year cannot be adopted out of Haiti so we knew there would be a wait. Of course there would be a wait.

For those totally new to adoption, a family must compile a dossier to present. It is huge, and it contains birth certificates, marriage certificate, psychological evaluation letter, letters of recommendation, doctor visits and health forms from the entire family; all private information becomes public and all public information is stated. Then there must be a write-up from a social worker who comes to your home to evaluate you as a married couple as well as a evaluating the status on the children currently living in your home. Then there are child abuse background checks at the state level and then fingerprints at the state level and federal level (2 different locations and agencies and funds to pay). I’m sure I am forgetting a piece of the puzzle but you get the picture. After the dossier is compiled and looked over, it goes to translation before it can be submitted to Haiti.

By January 2013, Haiti was trying to switch from a Non-Hague adoption country to a Hague country. If you are interested in the politics and why this is even a thing, here’s a link - Intercountry Adoptions. While they began complying with the new regulations, they put us in a queue and would only let each adoption agency submit 1 dossier per month. We were set to be submitted October 2013.

In December 2013, we entered Haiti’s Social Services IBESR (L’Institut du Bien-Etre Social et de Recherches). There was absolutely no news or movement for 11 months (November 2014) when we received an email congratulating us that our family had been approved to adopt a child from Haiti. This is now typically the time when a child’s dossier would begin to be assembled. She's now 2 years old at this point.

I won’t go into the pain, but we trusted our agency to be working on our behalf. I was a part of Facebook groups, watching children get matched and come home in the time we waited. Our biggest obstacle was because we were grandfathered in under old laws as we were considered a “pre-match”with our child; we chose a specific child to be matched with our family instead of allowing Haiti to put our file with an eligible child. One of the new rules was a family would no longer be allowed to “pick’ their child. In a story of blame, I will throw no one under the bus, but there were people involved in our adoption process that were supposed to be working on her papers that didn’t know it was their job. There were others who said they were working on her behalf only to find out later that nothing was being done. There were several thousand dollars paid with no work to show for it. Excuses of, “Well, you know Haiti…” finally caused us to switch agencies in May 2017. While our new agency could make us no promises of a match with our little girl, they were instrumental in what questions I as a parent needed to ask people in Haiti in order to get Amelia’s paperwork completed as a finished dossier.

Bored yet?

Meanwhile, with the new Hague vs. non-Hague country change, we had to fill out completely different paperwork for her US immigration status. That kind of paperwork expires. It fell off my radar and our I-800a immigration pre-approval expired and dissolved. Like it never happened. Nothing had changed in our lives, but we had to start our dossier over. In March 2018, Haiti’s IBESR was asking for our I-800a approval so they could match us! Remember that incredibly long list of papers that we compiled? You got it, all new everything. We scrambled to get it done as fast as we could. Scheduling fingerprints, Dr. appts. and biometrics again. Friends writing recommendation letters. Our social worker was amazing. She came to our home as soon as she could, she rewrote her report and had it submitted as fast as I could get all my part done. Wham Bam Thank you, Terri, we were back with I-800a approval only 10 weeks later (Sarcasm dripping). Our old agency had to help us with this process due to Colorado laws on who holds our dossier information. They were neither quick or helpful. I was kicking myself and so angry. Here we had been waiting for so long and now that Haiti was asking for something we stood there like a 15 year-old boy in front of the girl he likes. Um.Uh.So.Yay. We don’t have it but wait right there. We’ll be right back. Don’t forget about us. Don’t put down that file. It may never get picked back up. Seriously.

Everything was turned in early May 2018. Tracy and I made no family plans this summer. We anticipated a referral ‘any day’. It took everything within me to stay away from the airline websites searching for ideal days to travel for the best price. 12 weeks later – July 23, 2018 – WE HAVE OUR REFERRAL!! Her dossier is matched with our dossier. This is a big, huge step. Now, what does it all mean?

We still have a long road to bringing her home. The referral means that we have been invited to come on a “bonding trip”. It is a 15-day on the ground in Haiti time to meet, play and get to know your child. Typically, this is meant for parents who have never met their Haitian children. Remember what I said earlier. The process has changed. There was a hint that we could shorten our stay, but when it came down to it, there would be more delay in the asking so we are leaving August 4^th and will be with Amelia until August 18^th. I will be more diligent in sharing the next steps of our adoption as they should be coming in months rather than years. I will be blogging while I am in Haiti with her. We couldn’t be happier.

The Waiting

I used to blog. All the time. Remember about a decade ago when everyone took to computer to tell their stories. I read & followed bloggers, tried my hand at sharing and wrote all the time. It became an idol. Was I good enough? Did I blog often enough? Who read my stories? Was my life making an impact? I became obsessed so I stepped away. It was hard to cut the ties but oh so necessary. I couldn't compete with my own self.

I waited for the next obsession to come. It's in my nature. I get a little gung-ho about my projects. So I decided to run. Boy, did I run. At the end of 2010, I made my first New Year's Resolution - run my first half marathon in 2011. At the end of 2010, I was introduced to my best friend who could help me make that happen. She was writing a half marathon/Bible study book, marrying 2 of her passions. I couldn't resist and we started. It didn't take long and I was addicted. Nooooo, not to running. To the relationships I was forming. I could run, talk and get therapy all at the same time with my running group. In 2011, I not only ran my first half, I went on to run my first (and last) ultra marathon (50k!). Why do I tell you this on a blog about waiting? I waited that entire year for my runner's high. The one runners talk about. They can't wait getting out on the trail to "feel" this high. Some say it comes after running a while and you start feeling fatigued then all of a sudden, the "high". Well, I did have moments when energy came and I pushed through the finish, but I can't say I ever found my runner's high. Just 5 short years later, I can barely finish a 5k without cursing. Running isn't my thing. I stopped waiting and moved on.

During my short-lived running career, I learned about waiting in another aspect of my life. Really learned. We started our adoption process with Chris. Man, I hated hearing my phone ring only to see that it was a friend (sorry if you were that friend; I really love you). I wanted every phone call to be from our adoption agency giving us good news. I REALLY hated when our agent called only to see how we were doing. Sheesh! Way to be supportively unsupportive (jk, Patrick, I loved every call we every had). Waiting became a thing I had to try and actively NOT do. I had to fill my days just so I wasn't waiting by the phone or refreshing my email. I went back to school. It was my saving grace. I could actively wait without obsessively wait. I could read a book or take notes while standing on the rampart looking for news.

November 2012 I met her. Totally on accident. I was heading down to Haiti on a medical trip/spend time with Chris. A week before we left we were told there was a premie newborn that had been brought to Lifeline. Our town collected premie onesies and premie diapers. When I got to Haiti, I held her because babies need to be held and loved and touched. There were plenty of other hands that held her, but I happen to be holding her the day I knew she was supposed to be in our family.

The Waiting. It has been 4 years since that week. It has been 47 months since we started the adoption process with her. Due to changing laws it has been 35 months since we entered the Haitian system to adopt her. It has been 23 months since our family's dossier was approved so they could present her paperwork and we could be matched. We have been actively waiting, standing ready to go on our 15 day bonding trip at the drop of a hat notice. We haven't taken vacations so that Tracy has enough time off. We haven't called in favors from family and friends, cuz let's face it 15 days in our shoes with 4 kids can be HARD!

I just got back from a medical trip in Haiti with my oldest. She got to meet her baby sister for the first time. They are a decade apart in age. Every month baby girl doesn't come home is another month Ellie doesn't have with her sister before college (I know we are forward thinkers). That trip was the hardest because I found out information that our agency doesn't know. They tell us they are working hard to gather information that I found out within 24 hours of being on the ground in Haiti. The problem? I can't do anything because we aren't matched and I can't interfere, be involved, pay more, stand up for my girl. It's against the law at this stage in the game. Still we wait. Why? Because she's not an idea or a name or a project, she's my girl. Her name has been etched on my heart. Her bird has been tattooed on my body. She is my heart.

We are being held captive to a corruption so deep. We are begging God to show us where to fight, and He has given us some direction and strength. In this waiting, we are more active than ever. We are now asking questions, calling people to the rug and stepping in where others have not. We will walk up to that line of legality and do everything in our power to bring this beautiful little girl home.

Until then...

Jamie Grace - The Waiting

What will it look like?
What will it be like?
When my world turns out like you planned
And when will I get there?
Feels like I'm nowhere
My dreams are like dust in my hands
But I know
This is the waiting, I anxiously wait,
As I hold on to Love that won't ever let go,
And in these times when my patience is tested
Won't you remind me that I'm not alone
Here in the waiting the waiting the waiting

All of the questions, secret confessions
Lord, you'll make sense of it all
And I know you'll show up so I'm letting go of
These thoughts that are taking control
This is the waiting, I anxiously wait,
As I hold on to Love that won't ever let go,
And in these times when my patience is tested
Won't you remind me that I'm not alone
Here in the waiting the waiting the waiting

Oh and I know, I know this is the Waiting the waiting

And in these times when my patience is tested

You are the Love that will never let go

Here in the waiting, the waiting

So I'll be here waiting, waiting, waiting

Believing you'll never let go.

Tears

My husband and I have been going to family counseling with our adopted son the past few months. Our son doesn’t like going and talking about anything, especially emotions, so we decided to go just as a couple last week. I sat there bawling off and on for the entire session. I told the counselor I believe tears are a waste of time. They don’t help our situation. They make me feel physically awful, and I feel no emotional release from them. Tears can’t change someone else’s heart. My tears don’t seem to motivate him to have compassion. She asked why I felt this way about tears and crying. Of course she wants me to unpack why I never cry…So here I go, let’s talk about tears and crying. Sorrow and loss. Grief and hurt. Pain and healing.

I had a lot of anger inflicted on me in my past. I learned to meet anger with anger. I am stubborn and headstrong. I have a strong yelling voice because growing up in a home where people yell I learned to match volume. Many times, I was able to shield my heart by running away from the anger (I ran to my room, to a friend’s house, to a school or church activity, to work). I didn’t start dealing with how that anger changed my core beliefs until I was an adult. I don’t remember crying much as a kid. I do remember being sad. A lot. As an adult I was able to forgive the people who emotionally hurt me, but forgiveness doesn’t take away memories and it doesn’t take away bad coping skills. I still run away from conflict and heated discussions. I can’t be around angry people. My heart races and I want to run when I am confronted with anger. Then God gave me my son.

My tears come from remembering. Remembering a past that held pain. Remembering the fear associated with anger. Remembering loss of relationships. Remembering the feeling of helplessness. As a young person, when I first thought of adoption as part of my family plan, I admittedly viewed it as a way to “rescue” a child from poverty and a life of not knowing a loving family. Every child should have a mother who rushes to their side when they are hurt, cheers for them to win and guides them in learning. I wanted to give a child everything I thought he or she was missing. Fast forward through 20 years of maturity and I am now aware that in the process of adoption there is loss as well as gain. We took away the only home he knew. We took away playmates, roommates and a loving nanny. We removed familiar routines. He no longer understands his native language.

“There is a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn and a time to dance.” Loss and pain, grief and hurt shouldn’t be ignored. When sorrow is felt, healing can begin. No matter how painful it is to cry, tears do serve a purpose. Our son is finding it very hard to remember and mourn. His actions show that he does not believe it is okay to be vulnerable and cry. I have to admit I am due my time to mourn. When my son came home 3 years ago I felt loss. In adoption, I had to walk away from the life I knew as well. We don’t have peace in our home the way we used to feel peace. We don’t have calm. There is more yelling and anger and frustration in the last 3 years than the decade preceding. All these hot emotions for 3 long years have me frayed at both ends. My tears are finally falling. Some from utter exhaustion and some of them are from remembering the pain of my own past. Some are from the loss I have suffered in the last 3 years. I am finding they are from many places that have been buried. I am trying hard to embrace the tears. I pray that my example will make a difference to my son. I pray that he will see my vulnerability and weakness. I pray he finds space to mourn. But most of all, I pray for healing. Healing in his life and healing in mine.

A bit of heartache

When the breakthrough is really only a breakdown and we're all just weary of fighting the same battle...

When banging his fists on the same people over and over hoping we will feel the pain he feels every day of his life but really he's just driving a wedge between himself and the people who want to love him...

When time without him is sweeter than any time with him and we feel guilt over feeling "normal" for a moment...

When the girls come to hug us and tell us they're sorry we have to deal with the rage and mean words and how we need to know that none of it is true...

"On Christ the Solid Rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand. All other ground is sinking sand."

I feel like I'm sinking. I can still remember when I thought life was hard as a family of 5. I dream of that life, and I wake up guilt-ridden that I struggle to find joy the day after nights when all I do is cry after he screams the nastiest words he knows, and takes swings at my face and tells me he's going to cut me when I'm not looking.

We try to protect our friends (and even sometimes our close family) from this. Many don't know his other side. I have struggled with publicly sharing because I want everyone to see him the way he deserves to be seen. He can be sweet, adventurous, funny, respectful, a typical 7 year old who's into mischief and curious about all the right things. He is also struggling with so many demons that there are days I'm sure he will see the inside of a jail cell before he chooses to allow others to be in authority over him.

I grieve for him and the life he should have had. I grieve for the family my girls would have had. I know we were obedient to what God wanted for our family. I know that all my children see glimpses of God's love and forgiveness lived out in ways they never would have if the 6 of us weren't together on this journey. I am acknowledging God's goodness on a daily basis these days, knowing that I am under the tapestry that He is weaving. From this side, it looks ugly, disjointed, knotted and unorganized. I can't wait until I am on the other side and can see the beauty He sees.

When all the ugliness of this world is crashing in I can rest assured that I am firmly planted. The sinking feeling is only because I looked away from Him for a moment and doubted. I pray that I will keep my eyes forward, fixed on truth that I am already fully known, my husband and my children are already fully known by a loving, caring God who provides not only our physical needs but my daily dose of sanity. One day I will know, but today? I only know a bit of heartache...

1 Corinthians 13:12English Standard Version (ESV)

12 For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.

Just 2 more minutes

 When the girls were little I kept a schedule (I know, big surprise). Whenever we needed to keep on task I would give the girls a transition phrase. “Ok, girls, 2 more minutes. Time to clean up.” Whether at home or out, they knew then that it was time to prepare to leave. Two minutes usually didn’t mean a literal 2 minutes. I would get distracted by my own conversations or wouldn’t get my own task wrapped up so our transition time would stretch out. The girls would tug at my clothes and whine,  “Let’s goooo, mom! You said it was time to gooooo.”  

Then it happened.

It was time to go to preschool. I was ready. The baby was in her car seat. We needed to go. I had given the girls the transition phrase 2 minutes earlier. My words went unheard. The girls were still playing. I was upset that they weren’t obeying. My 3 year old looked up and said, “You said two more minutes!” When I replied I had given her 2 more minutes she replied. “Two more minutes means we have more time. We always have more time to play and you make us clean up early!”

I thought of this memory last week as we wait to hear news from Haiti. In the last 2 ½ years that Chris has been home we’ve been waiting. And waiting. And waiting to hear the news that it is time to go visit Baby Girl and “bond” with her on our bonding trip. It will be a 15- day trip where we will be observed and interviewed for 1 of those days by a Haitian Social Worker. They will then write up the meeting and place it with our dossiers so that we can move to the next step of having Baby Girl declared a Hires by the Haitian courts.

We feel like the toys are put away, our shoes are on and now we are tugging. “Come on! It’s time to gooooo!” Through the past few years, we have been told to hope. We’ve been thanked for our patience. We’ve been told it shouldn’t be much longer now. We are still waiting. Still hoping. Still being thanked for our patience. But we are still being told – “Ok, kids, 2 more minutes.”

Please pray for our hearts as we continue to wait on our Haiti invitation for travel (and on a job for Tracy). 

Psalm 27:14 (esv)

Wait for the LORD; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the LORD!

Psalm 42:11 (esv)

Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me?

Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God.