"I will cry to God Most High,
To God who accomplishes all things for me."
Psalm 57:2
Thursday October 20th, 2011
We woke up at 5:30 am to get ready for this awaited day wondering anxiously if it would actually happen. We had received a call from the orphanage director at 9 pm the night before saying that he didn't know if he could pick us up. We had met with him on Monday to discuss plans for Thursday and the plan had been for him to pick us up at 7 am. Now it was too late for us to ask to use the school vehicles or get a ride for that early in the morning. Besides the fact that we had no idea where we were going. The stated location of our destination was more than a bit sketchy and the only reference we were given was "Becentinaire". We knew we had never been there, nor was this term yet in our Creole vocabulary. It wasn't in the vocab of anyone we know that has been here for years either. But then maybe we were just screwing up the pronunciation and had too little info to be able to explain. So the fact that we didn't know if we would actually be picked up in the morning or if we would be lost trying to find someplace we had no idea about didn't exactly make for a decent nights sleep. Other wonderings contributed as well. We knew that Esmée's bio father had made it to the orphanage the night before. We knew that she had not seen him in years and wondered how this would affect her...and him. We wondered how we would feel about seeing them together. How she would act with him...with us? We wondered about what the girls had been told. We wondered if Marguerite's aunt had been contacted (she had not been the last time we checked) and if she would make it to the court date. We wondered what would happen if she didn't. We wondered what she would be like if she did. It was hard to get past these wonderings to wonder what would happen if we actually made it inside the court room...which made us feel unprepared.
So we wondered all through the night and the next morning while waiting outside in formal attire with backpacks full of children's games and snacks to pass the time...should we ever get there. We waited outside until 8am when we received a text that we would be picked up in "a little while" (which can often mean longer than a little depending upon traffic around here). It was either nerves or the allergy pill mixed with the pills I am taking for a nasty rash or a combo of both that made me feel like I was going to throw up. I decided to go inside and lie down until "a little while" had passed. I opened my Bible and asked God to give me something...anything to get me through this day (if we made it to court or the discouragement that would surely come if we did not). I flipped to the Psalms searching. I read several stopping on Psalm 57:2. It was what we needed. We've been crying out to the Lord about our adoptions for the past year and 1/2. Our only security is found in that He will accomplish all things according to His will for us. We can wonder all we want, but we must cling to the One who doesn't wonder...He who accomplishes all things.
We were picked up outside the gate around 8:30am. We were very dissapointed that our girls were not in the van. They had been left at the orphanage. We wished we would have been told because we were toting two heavy bags of refrigerated items for lunch as well as games and art supplies to last all day intended for them. However, we were pleasantly surprised that in the crowded vehicle were two of our friends from San Antonio, TX who had not been able to make court the day before. Hence the reason why things had become more complicated for picking us up and one reason why the girls were not present. Eric climbed in the back of the van and I squeezed in the front with Cindy Foote. I knew Esmée's bio dad was one of the unknown faces behind me and turned around to try and guess which one he was. I guessed wrong. We made his aquaintance and shook hands. Our eyes met. I told him in Creole that I was happy to meet him. He smiled sweetly and shook his head yes. I noticed that he is a man of small build and his eyes were shy and kind like my Esmée. I liked him. Eric began conversating with him and another man we found out to be Esmée's cousin and godfather. I noticed that there was no female present that could be Marguerite's aunt. I asked about this and was told "she is coming". More nerves ensued.
We drove down and around crowded streets before finally stoping at our destination...a side street on a street that looked like most other streets in front of a tent city next to a puddle of mud and a rotting trash dumpster. I stared at the other side of the street where there was plenty of parking space and no rotting trash dumpster. I am pretty accustomed to the smells around Haiti. They typically don't bother me. This bothered me...especially after we had been sitting for over an hour and us blans (white people) were told to roll up our windows and not get out of the car. Whatever. The non blans in the back had already left their crowded sweaty seats and Eric had exited with them. I decided the concern to stay inside the vehicle "for our protection" must not apply to me since the ealier suggestion was for Eric and I to somehow find this lovely spot ourselves. Marguerite's aunt had arrived on the scene and I wanted to go visit with her too. She was precious. Her stature was short in comparison with our Marguerite's tall lanky frame, but her dancing eyes, happy smile, and joyful disposition were the same. She was happy to meet us too.
We now know enough Creole to be able to communicate a very little bit well. We did this (which we think delighted them and broke the ice), but we didn't have to try too hard because Esmée's cousin spoke English! We asked as many questions as we could before we were summoned back to the vehicle. We asked Marguerite's aunt (her mother's sister) about her birth mother. We knew she had died when Marguerite was very young but the cause of death was unknown to us. Her aunt said that it was just a "terrrible sickness" and that "she could not speak it was so bad". She didn't like to talk about it. Her eyes danced with pain. We were reminded once again as we stood outside that tent city by that dumpster that adoption (like childbirth) is born out of pain. But it is a pain that is remembered by all, not just the one that gave birth. We asked how her birth father had died. She said she didn't know him. We knew Marguerite's birth parents were not married. There is little information about her father and because the mother's side had custody of Marguerite after her death, further information about him is not needed for court. She told us that she was very happy we were adopting Marguerite. We asked Esmée's dad about her mother's death. We basically got the same answer. That she had died from a bad sickness (it was most likely not diagnosed in either case). We still don't know exactly when she died (if it was before or after Esmée came to the orphanage). Esmée's father is younger than we expected. He is 33...my age. I thought about all he must have already gone through in the past 33 years. I thought about how this must be painful for him...to loose so much...his wife...his child...to be reminded of it again today. But that this day held as much hope as pain...and it felt like hope was winning. There was hope in his kind, sad eyes. I thought about how much he must love his Delenda (our Esmée) to make the two day trip to come to court (and he has already done this once before and has to do it once again at the U.S. Embassy in the near future). I thought about how no one is forcing him to do this, but that he truly must want a life for her that he hasn't been able to provide for many reasons (most probably beyond his control). I wondered how he felt when everyone else could sign their names in the book, but he didn't know how to write his name. I remembered back to last December when I taught Esmée how to write her own name. I felt sad that no one had ever taught him. But more than that I felt proud of him. How much courage did it take to come there...to have his thumb marked with ink so he could "sign" his name? I thought about Esmée...how courageous she is too. I am proud that this man is her birth father, and I pray that her life will be all that he ever hoped for her and more.
We waited in the back of the vehicle for about 2 hours. We were waiting for someone to bring something that would tell us we were ready to go into the Magistrate's court. We never actually went there though. The documents were brought to us in the back of the vehicle by an official assistant and we all signed right then and there in the back of that van.
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"Court" in the back of the vehicle
Marguerite's aunt is signing the book. |
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| Delenda's (Esmee) cousin is assisting her bio father by inking his thumb so he can sign. |
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| Pictured are our girls 3 realtives that were present. Delenda's bio father is signing. |
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| Eric signing the blue ink book. |
Then we left the dumpster behind and drove a little ways to a much better parking spot in front of an official looking building. This was where Dean Court was going to happen. We all headed toward the entrance. We were told that only the adoptive parents were to proceed into the building. We thought that we would see the others (our girls relatives) later on in the proceedings, but it turned out that they were not needed and they were sent home. We were sad that we did not get to tell them goodbye. We do not know if we will see them again. Maybe someday...we hope too.
We were ushered into a small but decent office waiting room. There was air conditioning! We were happy to be out of the hot vehicle. It was lunch time. We started to think about if we should eat something or if we should wait because we didn't know when we would be called in to see the judge. We waited. We had not waited long before the air conditioning along with the power ceased. Someone came to get us to take us out of the building because we were told there were going to be "black outs". We said we didn't mind and asked to stay where we were (we didn't know if we would ever get to see the judge otherwise). We sat in that hot and very dark room (our room had no windows), for the next 4 hours while men in full suits walked in and out with flashlights checking the computer at the desk in front of my legs. Eric and I shared a bagel sandwhich intended for the girls and I drank a Torro (Haitian version of Red Bull energy drink). I regretted the Torro when I had to go to the bathroom. We had to wander through the dark, seemingly vacant building to find someone with a key and then had to hold our (Cindy went with me) breath. We were still trying to catch our breath when we returned to our couch in the dark room. We met a lovely couple from Canada sitting in the dark room next to us who is also adopting. They told us that they waited (not in the dark) the day before from 7am-4pm and no one told them that the judge was not even there. So they were back today. We had been told that the judge had left. We all started praying that she would come back!
Eventually (hours later) we were taken to another waiting area outside the judge's office. The Canadian couple got to go in first. We were happy for them. They came out with smiles saying, "she is tough, but her questions are fair enough". My mind went blank when I tried to think of the answers we had practiced. All I could think about was how yucky I looked and felt and how yucky our paperwork looked that was sitting in my lap.
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What our dossiers looked like when they were delivered to Haiti in May 2010.
Shiny, neat, together. |
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What our dossier looks like now.
Sort of picturesque of how we feel after going through this process too...
Disheveled, bent, battered, torn, loose around the edges, but still hanging in there. |
We were called next. I felt bad for our friends because they too were supposed to have these court appointments the day before and their flights left in the morning. Worse case scenario, we could have come back. But we stepped forward and sort of numbly entered the judges chamber. She didn't smile. She didn't even look at us. She spent about 5 minutes flipping through other paperwork (it wasn't ours because we were still holding ours), before acknowleging our presence in front of her. Intimidating? Uh, yeah. It was. And I forgot everything I was supposed to say and felt like an idiot. But somehow we got through her questions. There was one when Eric and I got really nervous because we didn't know if our answer would match what the paperwork said for our girls ages. We answered according to what we thought the paperwork said. She raised her eyebrows and said, "They are both 12?" We said, "Yes". We don't really know how old Esmée is. She says she's 9. The paperwork says she's 12. She doesn't look 12 so we knew this would make the judge question that. We held our breath. She moved on.
The numbness I felt turned to hold my tongue madness (and I disagreed with the Canadian couple who said her questions were "fair") when the judge finally asked, "Do you expect to love these girls as your own children?". I felt like saying, "Do you expect that we would have made 5 trips to Haiti, spent countless hours on that paperwork you hold in your hand, spent over $20,000, moved to a 4th world country where our girls are, oh by the way we just sat in this hot, dark building for the past 5 hours and a smelly, sweaty van in the hours before that...and you have to ask us if we will love these children"? But I didn't say that. Eric answered with a simple and sufficient, "We already do". She didn't look impressed. She asked (actually she didn't ask, but assumed), "This is your first trip to Haiti?" (while holding our passports). We said, "No". She looked up. Eric said, "This is my 3rd trip to Haiti". Her eyes widened. I said, "This is my 5th trip to Haiti". She didn't seem to hear me, and said, "So this is your first trip to Haiti?" I said (louder), "No mam. This is my 5TH trip to Haiti". She lowered her pen and stared at me gasping, "5 trips to Haiti"! I said, "Yes! 5 trips to Haiti because we LOVE these girls!" She started signing. She looked up and said, "Congratulations. I believe you will give these children a good home. Good luck." WE PASSED!
We waited with our friends for about another hour before the judge decided to see them. Judge was in a hurry to leave by that point and they didn't get the silent treatment or as many questions. Judge did ask Cindy what her family thought about her having a black child (I wondered why we didn't get this question)? Maybe it's because we showed the judge a picture of Eric's parents standing next to a picture of our girls hanging prominently on their wall. Cindy said, "we already have a black child and they love her". And she was out of there real fast. :)
We left that hot dark building and felt like celebrating. We were one step closer in this forever process to our girls being forever family. But it was a long day and like our adoption process everyone just moved on to the next thing. For us that meant being dropped off on the side of the road near our entrance so we could get home to our boys. For our friends that meant going back to the orphanage to pack and say their goodbyes to their soon to be forever kids. We hope it's soon. For all of us. We pray it's soon. Lord, please! We cry out to You! We know you can accomplish all things! Thank you for getting us through this day! Thank you for getting us through every day! We know that all these things are for Your glory. Not only that they will be used for Your glory but that You are working now! For us! You are on our side! You accomplished all things today! You will accomplish all things tomorrow! You will accomplish all things forever! We pray for soon! We pray for forever!
