I started writing this post in my notes late at night 10 days and 15 hours after we touched down in PAP and it took me nearly 3 months to gather my thoughts enough to write anything here and another few attempts before I tabled it again.
Now it's Jan. 9 and I'm trying again. I feel compelled to write something. To document it in some way. My Grandma Koller passed this morning and I'm sitting in Estes by the kindness of Jake and Erin. The weight of this story and the past 8 months were getting too heavy. So I stepped away. Stepped away to breath. To think. To let it be.
So here it is. Or at least as much as I can gather my thoughts to share at this point.
I could write out the steps it took to get to them in those final days in May, but its bureaucracy. All the right people needed all the right signatures and papers. Letters and doctors and documents and passports. I didn't know how to sparse out the details from the heavy emotions they carried. I still don't. Things happened, feelings were felt and at the end of it, we walked out the doors of the Port au Prince airport into quick, hurried hugs and our lives changed forever. 8 months later, I'm still floored by that reality.
To finally, (and when I say finally, the weight of a decade sits in that word), bring our children to their new home; a home that has been waiting for them to exist in, to lounge and laugh in, to be bored and happy and sad in, too be loved in and feel both foreign and at home in, to BE whatever they are in, the years of waiting just drifted away. In that moment, the 8 plus years didn't matter anymore. Only the NOW mattered. The lost time became a fleeting thought and not a dominating feeling. We could now hold them, talk to them, walk with them and know this was it. Together, finally.
So much happened so quickly that it has taken me some time to release some of the emotions of it all. To let it all just be. Let it be good and hard and happy and sad. All at once. The sadness is deep. The happiness holy. The sadness that still creeps in about in the years lost with them over a painful, long process and in the loss of all they have known. The happiness in the wholeness despite the brokenness of it all. They have known of family and love and support and care and fear and hunger and loss of which we were not a part of. They know of joy and kindness and treachery and danger of which we will never fully understand. And yet, we're here.
A few things I know for certain that I want to express here because we've heard it all over the years and months: We did not rescue them or save them. We did not "do a good thing" or take them away from a terrible life. We did not do anything but love them as our own and fight for their safety and future, as anyone would do for their children. That is adoption. It is not "goodness", it is loving as one loves. Without regard for biological lines or a need to have one look like you. It is knowing one as your own and letting go of what anyone else deems as right or true about family. It has no time or space for "goodness." Goodness is a made up notion that holds no endurance. Anyone can be good in a moment. Love has endurance. And we learned and are still learning some deep lessons about endurance these past years and months. We have heard over the years a range of disbelief or awe about the adoption. "Such good people", "so good that you could give them a better life", "I could never...", "I couldn't have..." But I see people doing hard things all the time. They endure, persevere and this is no different. And all that is not why we adopted. I don't know how else to explain it. The details are complex, but the reality is simple. They are our children. That's why we adopted them.
The final days before we touched down in PAP were intense. The 3 weeks prior were devastating as we realized they needed a covid vaccine which honestly right now feels ludicrous, but it was policy. Despite our best efforts to get waivers, nothing worked and so we waited. To be held up at the finish line had it's own cruelty for us all. The gang violence got increasingly closer to them as the days went on and the level of fear I had that something would happen to them; a stray bullet, kidnapping, starving, was intense. I hated it. The Monday before we actually went to get them they had to flee their home because the gang fighting was on their street. They ran in the early hours of the morning with the housekeeper, Sy, the clothes they had on and the scrapbook we had made for them. They made it safely to newly relocated orphanage. The children had to be moved because the gangs have taken over their previous neighborhood. Ritha and Nickson have yet to really talk about that night and morning. We don't know many details or their firsthand narrative. We've seen evidence of fear in their lives by some behaviors. That we couldn't protect them from these things still haunts me. That they were protected through it all is a miracle.
That 3rd week of May, we knew we were close. Close enough to start our travel without actually knowing what day we could fly in and hopefully directly out of PAP. We decided to fly to Ang's on Wednesday with a plan to stay there until we could fly out. At that point we thought maybe Friday or Saturday but no confirmation. I don't know if I'll ever be able to fully express what that one night with her did for me. I am fortunate beyond measure with sisters and friends who anchor my soul in so many ways. Ang cared for us and drove us to Fort Lauderdale the next day and was such a sure, solid place to be when nothing felt certain or predictable. We started our drive to FLL Thursday again not knowing what day we'd actually fly into Haiti. On the way there, things started falling into place travel wise. Saturday was our day. We spent two nights in FLL and they were a blur. I don't recall much of anything. Sick with anticipation, but trying somehow to be present and enjoy those days.
Saturday dawned and we got on the plane. Landing in Haiti felt so emotional. For obvious reasons, but also because I didn't know when I'd ever fly in again. The imagery of that landing is so ingrained in me. I had spent a decade traveling and loving this country and I don't know if I'll ever get to go back. It raised my children. It holds so many people I love. It's wrought with tragedy and loss and beauty and memories of which I'll treasure forever. And our children. This was it. They were leaving everything they had ever known. It was emotional to touch down.
Once we got through immigration and to the exit, we waited by the door, impatiently scanning the crowd outside for them. They walked up with Kettia and their driver under the covered walkway and with hurried hugs and hellos, we rushed to the departure side by walking through the parking lot. Some of Ritha and Nickson's relatives were there too. We entered the departure terminal and we took pictures and they said goodbyes. I believe two aunts and a cousin were there. I didn't know what I should say if anything. It felt too loaded and complicated to explain. We then headed for Covid testing. We had a contingency plan if one of them tested positive, but didn't need it. Then it was inside to say goodbye to Kettia and walk through security. Kettia is the manager of the orphanage and very close with Ritha and Nickson. She is Josie's hands and feet in country and takes care of all the logistics for all the children. She is amazing.
We made it through security and bought a few things in the store and headed upstairs to the gates. We had HOURS before our flight took off, but we needed the buffer in case anything went wrong. Being able to communicate was so very limited. Looking back, it was so hard, but we didn't know any different. I didn't even know what to ask or talk about it. I was almost holding my breath. We ordered food, hung out and after what seemed like forever they called our flight.
We had some interesting encounters while we waited with a mission team that were both kind and comical and maybe a little annoying. We also visited with a Haitian family that lived in TX and Kansas City. Finally we boarded. I sat with Nickson and Chad with Ritha. Call it instinct, but it seemed our emotional needs matched up at the time. Nickson was scared and Ritha was stoic. I'll never forget Nickson putting his little face in my arm as we took off and looking over at Ritha staring out the window wondering what she must be thinking. Holding Nickson and holding back tears as I let the enormity of the moment take shape. The joy of it felt like sadness. I was so sad for taking them away from their home. I was so happy and relieved to get them out of Haiti safely.
We landed in Miami and had a long wait in immigration, but after that and a bus ride to the hotel, we settled in. A friend had gotten us a nice suite and the kids thought it was awesome! We ordered food from a Haitian place and called Josie to let her know we had made it. We realized at PAP that the kids had nothing except the clothes they were wearing and the scrapbook. I took an Uber to a Target to see what I could get to make it home. It was the strangest little Target with mini departments of each and I couldn't hardly find anything. A tshirt and underwear for Ritha and a package of white tees and underwear for Nickson was all I could find.
The next day we made our way to the beach. They had never seen the ocean. We walked a bit and sat a bit and drew in the sand. Talking was still hard. Nickson knew no English and we only spoke what we needed to at that point. We took a car to the airport from there and spent a few hours before our flight took off for Houston. It was so cold in the airport, I bought a blanket and Nickson and I curled up together on and off. Ritha used my phone to play music and introduced me to some of her favorites again. We were delayed out of Miami and then late getting into Houston. Our connection was tight. Too tight. Despite me running with Nickson through the airport they closed the gate 5 minutes before we got there. I had made it all day without tears and that was it, I just stood there and cried. I so badly wanted us to be home. I was so tired. And so badly wanted all the kids to be together. Nickson held my hand as I cried. Chad and Ritha came up and Chad assured me it would be ok. We'd make it home that night, just later than planned. We let the other kids know since they were planning on meeting us in Wichita. We ate, bought some cards and played games and sat around. Nickson wasn't feeling well so he was curled up on my lap for quite some time. I breathed him in so deeply grateful.
FINALLY, last flight. It wasn't long and we got off the plane and headed towards the exit. We knew the other kids were there and this moment is what has lived in my dreams for years. It was as beautiful as I could have dreamed. We walked out and were engulfed in each other. Together. Finally. We didn't have any idea what would follow that moment, but it didn't matter. We'd do it together. Finally.
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