Having been asked on occasions how we were led to adopt, I thought back to the planting of the seed, if you will. While we have thoughtfully considered this path throughout our marriage- the firm foundation was set for me on my very first mission trip. I have decided to include a journal entry from that trip to Haiti. We had not been in Iowa very long and we were talking with some friends, who were also members of our church. The talk moved toward another church member who had been traveling for years with others to the same boys home ( a home to former street children ) and I didn't skip a beat, and added that I would love to go and help. I'm not certain how much of a help I was, but it was a life changing trip for me. Reading through this excerpt now, I am aware of so many similarities to the books I have been reading for the last 18 months to prepare for adoption, attachment, bonding to children that come from hard places. The Lord works in mysterious ways, indeed.
*Names changed
March 2008 ~ Haiti
Finally, it was time to go – weeks of talking, preparing, anticipating and now the time was upon us. What time was this, you ask? 2:30 ante meridiem, or O’dark hundred, as I call it. My husband got up and prayed with and for us as my fellow travelers and I stood in the dim light of the entryway. We climbed into a car full of tubs of goodies for unsuspecting children and sped away into the night. That’s right – the night – O’dark hundred is still the night before the upcoming meridiem if you ask me.
The Omaha airport was surprisingly alert for 4:29 in the morning. We checked in, entrusted our bins of goods to United Airlines and began the voyage. We changed planes, airlines and terminals in Chicago and arrived in Port-au-Prince after another change of planes in Miami. The sun was shining and there were at least 50 people waiting to offer assistance with our luggage as we stepped out of the airport. The trip to St. Joseph’s home was our first taste of Haitian city life – as least for Cathy* and I. Lots of people walking through crowded cement streets, lined with cement walls, buildings, roofs and sidewalks. The wild drivers of the colorful Tap-Taps blow their horns often as locals hop on and off. Folks pile their loads of stuff on top of the pick-ups, vans and flat-bed trucks and there are enough “passengers” to make even the most seasoned officer of the law run screaming from the do-nut shop without even taking their Krispie Kreme to go. The drivers pass so closely to other vehicles that one might be tempted and easily able to whisper words of comfort to the strangers they nearly become one with.
Reaching the home was such a relief- we were warmly greeted by Michael and a few of the boys and shown to our room to get settled.
Nearly every table was full as the dinner bell rang- there was a group, we found out later they were from Boston, dining next to us and the noise of the city had nothing on them.
Evening hours didn’t diminish city sounds – loads of feral dogs barked through the night and were joined intermittently by confused roosters. Thank the Lord, I prayed, for letting us arrive safely and for those little foam jewels-earplugs! I stuffed those bad boys in and went right to sleep.
Lovely coffee at breakfast the next morning. After a leisurely meal, we waited for the van that would drive us to the Sisters of Mercy baby hospital. This is the place that had caught my attention most upon learning of Eve’s* previous trips to Haiti. I had been so very excited to be able to help here. The rooms were filled with rows of cribs and there were lots of people – the Sisters told us it was the visiting hour for parents. Eve, Cathy, and I put on aprons over our skirts and then separated to different rooms to see who needed what. My first stop was a room with 4 rows of cribs running lengthwise-each identical and every child in this room had on a light green and white gingham smock shirt that tied in the back paired with a cloth diaper that had been twisted between the children’s tiny legs. The twisted diaper didn’t seem to be the most efficient use of the cloth in my humble opinion…mainly because most of the diapers were dry and many of the volunteers were wet.
The little girl who made eye contact with me was about 16 months old and had blisters all over her. Volunteers are not told why the children are in the hospital. This baby knew how to have fun and I chased her all through the hallways and played peek-a-boo to her great delight. Afterward she snuggled in my neck and I rocked with her. I made my way back to the first room and held a few small infants, taking turns walking with them and rocking – all of them just melted into me and not one cried until they were placed back into their crib- some seemed to weak to cry. Each room had matching tops for the children, so it was easy to recognize the room when the time came to return your child– the trick being to find the correct crib for the baby you had. We were able to feed them and I gave a warm mixture of beans, rice and mangos to a little boy while sitting outside on a sofa with other volunteers. I was able to feed the last baby to eat that morning – a gorgeous little girl. She didn’t make a lot of eye contact with me while she was eating, but she was darling. As I went to place her back into her crib, she locked onto my eyes, I stroked her little cheeks and told her I loved her, just like my Mom told me to. She reached up with her small hand and placed it on the side of my face while gazing up at me. That was the moment of connection that made leaving my own children alright – even acceptable.
