The Post-Trip Post
This is the post where I talk about the culture shock of re-entering the US and all of it's excesses. Cliche? Perhaps. Necessary? Absolutely. Our last night in Haiti, we had a great time with Keanan. He was used to us, and playful and fun. We tried to make our goodbyes casual, so we didn't freak him out with an ugly crying scene. I was unsuccessful with this, but I tried. Our flights were on schedule (yay), and India, the plane-puking wonder, only threw up twice. Props to my husband for his . . .
Last Day in Haiti
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Mama and Papa Keanan
We are back in Port-au-Prince, and focused on getting some quality time in with Keanan. Before our little country excursion, I was feeling really dismayed that Keanan seemed so dazed and confused around us. He was like a deer in headlights - very quiet and subdued - but we kept hearing stories about what a little comedian he was. Well, the past two days he has shown his true colors, and it is a delight. He is hilarious. He is quite the little flirt once he got comfortable around us. But with . . .
What Happens In Haiti Stays in Haiti
Things you do in Haiti that you don't do at home: let your child sit in the front seat of a truck fill an SUV with 17 people, 13 of them under age 10 encourage your kids to drink unlimited soda just to make sure they stay hydrated feed your kids "orphanage style" let complete strangers hold your children cover the pack and play in mosquito netting and pretend it's a tent . . .
Wherever You Go, There You Are
We are loving life in the Haitian countryside. Things are considerably different here than they are in the capital city. We are able to walk around without worrying, so it’s been great to feel like we are drinking in the sights instead of “hiding out”. Today we spent the morning at the school Cara’s parents started 25 years ago. Mark and I were blown away. The school, the students, the classrooms, the academics, the teachers – I am not kidding, this school exceeded American standards on ALL . . .
Pressed Down on All Sides
Today was a hard day. I'm feeling pretty taxed in every way possible.I am emotionally drained. Visiting Keanan is hard. It is always a relief to see how well he is cared for. But it's also disheartening how uncomfortable he is with us. I know that it is normal, and even developmentally appropriate, that he isn't jumping into our arms. We showed up enthusiastic, excited and smothering, and he reacted. He wanted nothing to do with us. I know that this is a GOOD THING. It shows he is bonded to his . . .
Stressed
I'm finding myself a wee bit stressed about our upcoming trip to Haiti. I was distracted and travelling a lot over the past two weeks. Yesterday, I turned in grades at Vanguard and then launched a blog with my friends. Two big hurdles done, and now my brain is ready to think about our upcoming trip. The gravity of the situation is hitting me like a ton of bricks. The country is in a desperate state.I find myself worrying about some things that are a bit disturbing to think through:what if there . . .
Is yours the black kid?
It's always funny seeing people trying to be PC about our transracial family. It's like everyone is scared to say the word "black" or describe him in those terms. I am constantly chuckling to myself when people will say, "is that your son over there, with the blue shirt, and jeans?" or "is your son the one with dreadlocks?". Particularly because in most scenarios here in vanilla OC, he is the one-and-only black child in a 20-mile radius. So why does it seems so weird just to cut to the chase and . . .
getting closer!
This week, we filled out the application to officially adopt Jafta. We have been waiting to do this for three years. I can't tell you how exciting this is. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the name "Jafta Jordan Howerton" on an official document. All his life, his doctor's records, school forms, passport . . . everything has been under a different name, which was always a pianful reminder that he was not "ours". To see his name with "Howerton" typed behind, was just beautiful.It should be . . .
Parenting with Fear
I was recently reading the blog of another woman adopting from Haiti, and she was describing what it was like to find out she could not adopt a child she was caring for. She described that experience in a painful, honest way that gave me a serious gut check:When we had Sophia with us in May and June, an interesting thing happened.Once we learned that she would not ever be available for adoption it became harder to take care of her. Shallow? Unloving? Immature? Maybe, probably, yes - to all . . .
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