day 2: the candy-man can

Upon waking, I immediately returned to my favorite place on earth: the baby room. The babies would all just lay with their faces pressed against the cool tiles on the floor because it was so hot. I also got to play with some of the older children. Aaaaaahhhh, they were so cute. All different ages, and all of them scrambling and wrestling each other to jump on top of you or sit in your lap. I watched them get ready for lunch, stand in perfect lines without even being told, and pray together before they ate. There were several tables of different ages and two separate tables of new children who had been brought in recently. They were keeping the new children separate because they had not been tested for different kinds of diseases, health issues, etc. One of the members of the group told me that these new children had been found while someone was trying to traffic them out of the country. I don’t even know what to say about that. There is no place in hell dark enough for the people who hurt and abuse children. Period.

After several hours and some physical force, they pried me out the door, and we helped set up some tents for a woman’s center that Gina was creating right next to the orphanage. It is going to be used for women and their families that have been displaced since the earthquake. And, since it was Sunday, Ty and the boys really wanted to check out the local LDS ward. I felt so bad, because I was in the exact same grungy clothes I had worn the day before, completely nasti-fied with paint still caked all over me, no makeup, and no shower of course (ok, for those of you who know me, that last one isn’t really a big deal). But, I figured God wouldn’t mind, so off we went.

Well, I’m sure God didn’t mind, but those Haitians put us to shame. Not difficult given our present condition, but still. These people live in shanties, have dirt floors, bathe in run-off water and yet were dressed to the nines for church. I am not exaggerating, it was unreal. The shirts on the boys were white as snow and perfectly pressed. The girls had perfectly done hair with pretty bows and ribbons. I don’t know how they did it. They had to have walked to church, like nobody has a car, in the dust and dirt and 100 degree heat outside. Unbelievable.

Since I speak fluent Creole, listening to the service was an easy task. Oh ya, I don’t speak a single word of Creole. And yet, it was fascinating to sit through. They all sang beautiful hymns and it was testimony meeting, so we got to listen to them bear their testimonies. Amazing, especially the young men. After church, we passed out large bags of candy to the kids. It was pretty much like passing out shanks during a prison riot. They loved it, and mauled anyone holding the candy bag.

We left church and I was informed that we were driving up to the mountain creche, which is the other orphanage that Gina runs. Pretty much thought I was going to die for a good two hours straight. Well, it would either be us or some other crazy car or person or family living in a tent set up in the middle of the tiny road (bobsled luge) that wound us up through the cities and into the mountains. During our roller-coaster ride (good thing I don’t get carsick) up to the creche, I got to witness close up some of the damage that the earthquake had done.

Skeletons of buildings and homes filled with rubble were scattered along the streets, next to tiny food stands or markets that looked like they hadn’t been touched at all. Tents were lined up along the streets too, lots of people were too afraid to go back into the remaining buildings after the earthquake and aftershocks happened, so they were just living outside.

Mountains of trash everywhere.

Along the mountainside, houses (more like shacks) were built one on top of the other. So close that they shared walls, so if one of them went, 10 of them went. So sad and unbelievable that such a beautiful country was living in such squalor. You could see that even before the earthquake the living conditions were just tragic. It really is a beautiful country too. Gorgeous mountain landscapes, lush green trees, stunning shorelines. The weather driving up into the mountains became increasingly cooler and was pretty much perfect by the time we got to the top. A good 20 degrees cooler at least.

We first arrived at Gina’s home. She lives about a five minute walk from the mountain creche. Her house was beautiful there on top of the mountains. She was preparing a barbecue dinner for us that evening and had a nice table set out. We had a few hours before dinner, so Tonya (an amazing girl in our group who is also in the process of adopting an adorable little baby boy, see last Post) and I walked down to the other orphanage. There were mostly babies and younger toddlers, not many older children, at this orphanage and most of them had either already been matched with families or were HIV positive and therefore more difficult to match.

* On a side-note, I have done a little research on children who are born HIV positive, and I think it is important to share a little info on it here in the blogging world. I preface this by saying that I am in no way an expert here, I just wanted to give a brief description of what I had learned. Just because a child is HIV+ does not mean that they have AIDS, in fact they may never develop AIDS. HIV stands for Human Immunodeficiency Virus, whereas AIDS stands for Acquired Immunodeficiency Syndrome. So, a child who is labeled HIV+ means that he or she has signs of HIV in their system (usually from being born to a mother with HIV in her system). HIV is a virus that attacks white blood cells, or "T cells." After several years and if too many T cells are attacked or destroyed then a person may develop AIDS which means the body is less able to fight off germs, infections, or diseases. While there is currently no cure for AIDS, there have been amazing medical advancements on treating people who are HIV+. Continuous medications make it possible for children who are HIV+ to live long, normal, healthy lives. Obviously there is still a lot of research to be done in this area and again I am by no means an expert. But, prior to meeting these kids in Haiti I had no idea what HIV+ really meant, except that it was definitely a bad stigma. One of the guys in our group talked to me a little bit about how it is a shame that these kids are labeled HIV+ and then nobody wants to take them. Someone wanting to adopt a child who is HIV+ should absolutely know the risks and medical requirements involved, but it is not nearly as "scary" or risky as it sounds (that sounded like an ad, I know).

Ahem, sorry about that, back to my story. The kids were, of course, absolutely adorable and engaging. They all wanted to play and climb up on you and the babies were, again, breathtaking. I was able to hold and take some photos of one baby in particular who is being adopted by one of the women running the adoption agency Gina works through. (Gina only works through one not-for-profit child welfare adoption agency in Illinois. Gina is very protective of her kids and for that I am truly grateful). The sweet little guy was born blind and just sat and snuggled and touched my face. Tonya and I finally said goodbye to the kids and walked back up to Gina’s house to meet up with everybody else for dinner. Mmmmmm, dinner...

on a dusty dirt road...

Somewhere in Haiti, me in a truck with Gina, the orphanage director, driving to paint a house. It was just her and me in the truck mind you, Ty and Ryan had flown off to rescue someone or something and everyone else was already at the house we were going to help paint. So...... silence. I had a little debate inside my head of what to say. Quick decision - do not bring up the topic of adoption AT ALL during the next few days. You are just here to help and work your little butt off (literally, I had been seriously slacking on my exercise regime)

Me: "Sooo...... I read an article about you back home before I came on this trip." (thank goodness for google - yes, that is a shameless plug; google, if you want to send me some money that would be fine)

Gina: "Oh really?" (unimpressed)

Me: "Ya, I looked you up and read this incredible story about how you found a newborn baby inside a pile of blankets at a hospital in Port-au-Prince. The mother had died and they couldn’t care for the baby so they just put it in the corner to die. The article said you noticed the baby was still alive and still attached to the placenta and that you ended up saving the baby’s life?" (incredible story that I thought was most likely made up, or at the very least an exaggeration of what really happened...)

Gina: "Oh yes, that was a long time ago. But it wasn’t a pile of blankets, it was a pile of garbage. And she’s my daughter now."

Me: (jaw drop) "Lady, that is un. be-freaking. lievable." (maybe I didn’t use that exact terminology, or maybe I did)

Gina: (smile)

Me: (inside my brain - 1. "I am in the presence of an amazing woman,"; 2. "yesssss. we’re totally bonding.")



We arrived at the house, I briefly said g’day’s to the other members of our relief group and picked up a brush. We were painting the inside of a small clay home being used as an adolescent center for the teenage girls brought to the orphanage. Let me just say, I have never sweated so much in my life. It was like I had jumped in a pool. A pool filled with sweat. It was bloody hot but I am pretty sure we were all high from paint fumes, so it was a good time. We painted for a few hours (still can’t believe I’m here) and jumped on the back of a pick-up truck to ride back up the bumpy dirt road for lunch. All, like, 8 of us on the back of this truck, on this tiny dirt road, with adorable little naked kids bathing in run-off water on the sides of the road, chickens and goats walking around, and everyone waiving at us like we were in a parade. I felt like Cinderella at Disneyland, where all the kids want a piece of you. A gross, sweaty Cinderella. In Haitian Disneyland.

Lunch - mmmm, mangoes. Not to revert back to mangoes, but, you are not truly enjoying a mango unless it is completely smeared all over your face and running down your arms.


More painting, now the outside of the house. We went with blue and yellow, very festive. Some of the teenage girls were there helping us, and probably the greatest moment of all was when they all broke out into Michael Jackson’s "We are the World." Most of them don’t know any English, but they knew that entire song word for word. I thought it was a great song before, but now, I will never listen to that song the same again. We painted until it was too dark to see the paint and drove back to the orphanage to play with the babies, eat dinner, and head off to dream-land.


Did you hear that? Play with the babies... yes, finally. As soon as we got back, I got a quick tour of the orphanage by one of the awesome guys in our group and he showed me, last of all, the room where they keep the younger children. Babies,babies, everywhere. My heart melted like the wicked witch of the west caught in a cool summer rain. And, best of all, all of them wanted to be held. I felt like if I could hold each one just for a few minutes I could let them soak up some of my love.

Let me just say that the women there taking care of these children 24-7 are remarkable, strong, loving women. But I was quickly realizing (I knew this already, but it never really sank in until that moment) that even in the best and most loving orphanages, it’s still an orphanage. There is simply no way to care for each child like a parent would. The amount of time devoted to our children in our own lives..... it would be an impossible feat. I decided it was my new job to let each one of those babies know that I was absolutely in love with them, so I started making my way around the room.

I think my most favorite feeling in the world is holding a little baby who just wants to snuggle in to you. It is incredibly rare. At least, in my experience, unless a child is sleepy, sick, or trying to grab a piece of candy you have strategically placed behind your back, kids like to be free and wriggle out of your grasp. But, the babies here were remarkably different. Each one just wanted to be held. And as soon as you picked them up, they were happy and snuggling in to you like you were a big fluffy marshmallow. The first little girl I picked up could not have been more than 10 months old. She laid her head on my shoulder and put her arms around me and kept patting my back with her little hand. Like she was taking care of me. I had found heaven. I think one of the guys said, "If anyone needs to find Natalie, just look in the baby room, she’ll be in there."

I was most shocked to see the scars, burns, and missing limbs on some of the babies who had been hurt during the earthquake. I thought about their parents most likely lying somewhere under a building, and all I could think was that they were probably happy looking down and seeing someone hold and love their baby.

I really can’t remember much else that happened that night, except calling my Miss London of course, who was staying with two of the greatest ladies on earth, my mom and my sister, Angie. I started to try to relay what had happened up to that point to my mom, (including the 14 hour red eye flights I had taken to get there, forgot to mention that part) but I didn’t even know where to begin. I vaguely remember eating dinner (more mangoes?) and hanging out and laughing with everyone and then going to bed in a room close to the baby room. I don’t think I got more than 3 hours sleep. I could hear roosters, dogs, and babies crying all night long. I loved it.

this adorable little guy i am holding is being adopted by an equally adorable couple, tonya and brian, who were both in our group. how dang cute is he?????

sorry for deleting all of your comments on my last post. it took me forever to figure out how to post those pictures and i don't know how, but i ended up deleting everything. woops.

haiti trip #1.

Whew, that was quick. This blogging thing might be a bit addicting. First off, I am going to be breaking this trip up into sections. If it’s too long, I won’t even read it. So, there you go, I’m throwing y’all a bone.

I kept a little journal of this trip, which, for me, is a remarkable feat in and of itself. By little I mean the back of an old envelope that I found stuffed in my bag, but what is important is that I jotted down the highlights. I didn’t want to forget anything important. Like how freaking delicious the fresh mangoes were. I am actually allergic to mangoes. Devastating, as they are probably my most favorite food. The goods news is that all that really happens to me is my lips swell up like Angelina Jolie. Not a bad side-effect. But, hello, I was in heavenly mango-land during mango season. Like I was not going to indulge. Totally worth the swollen lips and sporadic hives.

Anyways, back on track. The plane landed in Haiti and I immediately began freaking out, in a good way. I thought I was containing it well, but apparently it was bursting out of me as the girl sitting across from me asked me what I was so excited about. Turns out this "girl" was Kendra Todd. Avid followers of Donald Trump and The Apprentice will realize that Kendra was the winner of Season 3 of The Apprentice. She is this amazing girl who is doing humanitarian work all over the world and is pretty much fabulous in every way. So, we became quick friends. Really, we got pictures of each other. She even posted me on her blog. So, I am returning the favor. :)

As I stood there, excitement bubbling out of me and onto the people around me, I began to realize that I had no clue where I was going after the shuttle took us off the plane. Not to worry, Ty immediately climbed off his shining white horse and out of nowhere jumped onto the shuttle, placing an "all-access VIP" necklace-badge-thingy around my neck and walked me out to the helicopter. Seriously, in the middle of Haiti, walking across the airport landing strip to Ty’s buddy’s helicopter with military blackhawk’s flying overhead and army dudes just hanging out. Hmmm. It was awesome. As we waited for Ty’s co-pilot, (aka: Ryan Daniels, aka: funniest guy I have ever met) Ty proceeded to tell me the bad news. The Haitian adoption laws state that you have to be at least 35 if you are single and wanting to adopt. Nice time to tell me, I just got here! It was the first time in like 10 years that I have wanted to be older than I am. But, after the initial let-down, I composed myself and decided that it was not going to be a big deal. I was supposed to be here, and things would fall into place when they were supposed to.

Next I knew I was flying over Port-au-Prince in my sweet ride with my two fabulous pilots whisking me off to the valley orphanage (or "creche" in Creole). I looked down from the helicopter and cannot completely describe what I saw. Buildings upon buildings upon dirt and debris all on top of each other. Houses which would already be considered shanties by American standards reduced to rubble. It was so sad. I couldn’t believe I was actually there and I truly could not believe what I was seeing.

It was about a 20 minute ride over Port-au-Prince and out to the creche. They had a landing spot for the helicopter and literally two seconds after we landed I was in the orphanage director’s (Gina Duncan) truck driving to go paint a house. Repeat, paint a house. Good thing painting houses is my area of expertise. My dad and I ran our own little house painting business for a summer. We racked up a clientele of... 1. Still, I really like to paint. Ty mumbled to Gina, this is Natalie, the girl who is hoping to adopt. Gina did not seem convinced and said something like, "oh yes, everybody says they want to adopt." My goal became vividly clear, get Gina to like me in the next 48 hours!

Already too long, the best is yet to come.....

Kendra

Ty

Port-au-Prince

Tent cities

The Palace

sad...

the beginning... or the middle, however you want to look at it.

So, let me preface this with the fact that I am not a blogger. In fact, to be completely honest, I have done my fair share of ridiculing the world’s bloggers. I know. I am not proud of this fact. However, as in most cases, I have been humbled and now find myself eating my years of taunting words and at long last entering the vast world of blogging. It is for a good reason. As many of you know, my fantastic daughter London and I are in the process of adopting an adorable little boy or girl from Haiti. I have already been down there once and finally felt like I should be documenting our experience. After all, it will most likely be a looong journey.

London and I have had an amazing little family for just over six years now. But, we have been wanting to add to it since London was about 2. She kept telling me to "go pick up a sister for me at Costco." I tried, but they were fresh out.

So, we began looking into International adoption. Well, I began looking into it, London was 2, she didn’t even know what International adoption was. So I will take credit for that part thank you very much. I quickly found out two things: #1. Adoption is EXPENSIVE, and #2. It takes FOREVER. Crazy, I thought, (and still think) when there are so many children growing up in orphanages all over the world, and families (like ours) desperate to bring more children into their homes. Still, I knew that when the time was right for us to adopt, I would know it and we would make it work.

I am happy to say that time has come. In fact, it may sound crazy, but I actually feel like I am pregnant (with the priceless advantage of not being sick). Yay.

It all began around mid-February of this year.... Haiti was probably the last place that would have entered my mind in thinking about where to adopt. China, Ethiopia, Cambodia, I had looked into adopting from at least a dozen different countries and had even been oriented with an adoption agency here in Salt Lake for a domestic adoption. But, the timing never felt quite right.

Then, early this year my good friend Ty contacted me, just after the January earthquake in Haiti. He was intensely involved in the relief efforts down there (still is, but I’ll fill you in on that later) after the little island was completely devastated by the natural disaster. I began looking through Ty’s photos of the orphanages that he was helping deliver supplies to and a lightbulb turned on. Not like one of those energy-efficient 100 watt light bulbs. No, it was more like one of those 18,000 watt metal hilide lighting systems used to light up Yankee Stadium. I knew it was the time, like, without a doubt. I really don’t know how else to say it. I think I pestered good ol’ Ty every day for a solid month-and-a-half until he found a relief trip where I could come down and help out, and at the same time meet with the orphanage director about my chances of adopting....

...and the adventure began.

(....this is where I leave you with an enticing cliffhanger to keep you coming back for more)

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