Leaving Haiti

Motherhood is hard. But it is totally worth it. I have had a lifetime of experiences, but this has been, and I expect, will continue to be, the one that means the most to my heart. There is no totally right road to follow on this particular journey. You have to follow your heart, and you have to be strong, even when it feels like you cannot be. And you have to be honest, first with yourself.

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Now, we're at the orphanage, the facility my girls live in with at least 40 other kids. The building inside is clean, it's immaculate. Outside in the courtyard is where the kids are. Most of the nannies don't speak English, but one is very good at it, and all of them recognize the driver from Walls. This is good. Still, it is hard to see kids in this environment. They are good natured, but they play rough, and what you see ultimately is that they are surviving. Thankfully, most of them have a home they will go to when it is finially said and done. The few that do not...you wonder why. I want to fix that, but I can't. I hate that the system keeps them here so long, and yet for most of them it's better than where they came from in that they can eat. But they are missing LOVE. It seems many of them have known LOVE at some point in their lives, and they are better for it. They have very good care. They just don't have that family LOVE.

I'm going to back up alittle. When I was preparing for this trip, I was looking for one Disney video for the girls. I really did want Cinderella, it is the all time basic chick flick. But towards the end of the season, I could not find it. I saw alot of Peter Pan. I like Peter Pan, but I did not want to represent or glorify the "lost children" to my children. They already live that life, and it is a fallicy. IMHO. I was fortunate enough to pick up the last copy of "Cinderella" at the local Sam's Club. Thank the Lord.

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We stayed at the orphanage for about 30 minutes. I wanted to hug and love on all of those kids. Like everything in life, there is a pecking order. The older, bigger kids, rule. The little kids sit on the sidelines. Truthfully, they cry, or they seem sad. A few are just determined little fighters, and they get in there with the big kids and hold their ground. I'm sure it's not like this all of the time, but that is what I saw. And there seems to be an advantage to being part of a sibling group. Orphanage life is tough, and it is hard to look at. I know I will never be the same, and I know I was put here for a reason. For all I know, this is my reason for life.

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We leave, finially. I hate to, but I am ready to. My girls are certainly ready to, and so is my teen-age boy, as well as the S. Family. They meet their son's sister there, and have their own issues surrounding that.

We drive the streets of Delmas, and I am still amazed at all I see. Hundreds of Haitians, with not much to do. Hanging on the streets. Beautiful people. L is sitting on my lap. W is as happy as a princess sitting in the seat beside me. I am already freaking out because I am leaving them tomorrow, and there is no way to really prepare them for this. Everyone, including my son, is lost in their own thoughts.

When we get back to Walls, it's all pretty uneventful. I had promised the girls a swim, so we do that, and we have dinner. We play on the swing. The church group comes back for their meeting and sings beforehand. It's all very normal. I am sustaining a feeling of dread. I know what will happen tomorrow. I call the director of the O and actually get ahold of her! This is a first since I have been in Haiti. We make the arrangements for the following day. I get the girls ready for bed. L plays "jacks" with Goldfish crackers. She sets them all up in the swim position, and then takes one and somehow pounds the mattress and pops up the one she wants like playing jacks. She is way smarter than I am, I still can't figure out exactly how she does it. She gets every Goldfish cracker up off the bed that way. And eats them, of course.

The next morning I get up early and take a shower. The girls wake up and I get them ready for breakfast. They brush their teeth. It's Sunday, and most people at the guest house are going to church. There are many people there on this morning. The coffee pot is not working well. This is distressing, Mike and I are 20 minutes early, waiting for coffee, the first ones. Americans! The Frenchman is not that far behind us. Finially we get a few cups of coffee in us, and we're OK. After breakfast, the girls and I play awhile and then I start getting the them ready to go across the street and back to PAC. I sense that W is catching on because for the first time I am making them wear their back-packs and take their dolls with them. The S. Family wanted to go to, to try and check on their son. So off we go, me, my kids, and S. family. Director's vehicle was not in the driveway, so I was not expecting to see her, but she was there (Thank you God) Once we got inside, there was full fear on W's face. I knelt down to them and told them I had to go, in English. They both started crying immediately, they know what this means, and my voice was shaking, I was fighting it. I felt like I was betraying their trust by leaving. Director recognized the situation. After all, it was not the first time for us. She called them to her, and they went and clung to either side of her just crying. She was translating for me, so that was good. Then she said the most amazing thing, I almost did not hear it at first, but she said (in so many words) that some files were moving and she had every hope that things were getting better. That may not seem like much, but for parents caught in this uncertain quagmire, it is everything. I have to leave my girls there crying and clinging to her. I never want to have to do this again.

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So L and I go back to the airport, after I settle the bill. It takes forever. It should only take 5 minutes, but it takes 30, because Veniel has gone to church and his assistant is handling it, and I'm sure he feels like he is asking me for alot of money. Which he is, but he does not understand that in the States, we are used to paying for accomodations. I leave the tip in a seperate envelope and I realize he is angry with me because he thinks I did not leave a tip for the staff! But I want it to go straight to Veniel for distribution. That is what I want. So the assistant drops us off kind of rudely at the airport, he does not even unload our bags from the back of the truck. Of course we have lots of offers of help for that, and the hustlers want us to pay them to take us into the terminal. I keep saying no, but they are insistant and keep hovering. Finially I say "Souple! "(sp) with some anger, and "No!" I might as well have stomped my feet. They scattered. They left us alone. We progressed without problem, and L and I sit inside the gate and discuss our trip. On the plane we discuss some more, and when we get to FLL we are still talking about it. I realize that yes, bringing my son here was probably the best thing I could have ever done for him, and he is even smart enough to realize that NOW. We are talking more at this moment that we have in months.