Haiti Update--Some Home, 18 More to Go!

Ok so I know it's been some time since I last wrote (things have been more than a little nutty over here), and I know that many of you are chomping at the bit to know how our efforts have shaken out over the past two weeks.  Let's see if I can cover the bases . . .

With as much surprise and unsettling force the earthquake brought to Haiti on January 12th, so it was a whirlwind of activity when an unexpected call came in on Friday, January 22nd that we had 22 kiddos making their way onto a plane heading to the United States.  We had no confirmation which 22 children they were (just that they were kiddos from the Maison orphanage matched with CCAI families), when exactly they were going to be leaving Haiti, nor when or where we could expect them to land in the U.S.

Going on as little solid information as that AND a whole lot of adrenaline, our team, supported by the wonderful folks of the State of Colorado Department of Human Services (with whom we'd been closely working) and some representatives of Governor Ritter and Senator Udall (both HUGE supporters of our efforts), took a chance and hopped a plane to Orlando, Florida, hoping that was the magic city the plane would land in.  My heart was with our team in spirit, however I was the brave soul who got to hold down the fort at the office and be the #1 contact for frantic and anxious parents.

So while our team was making their way to FL (and then waiting there for some word they were in the right place), I was on the front line in terms of anything related to Haiti.  I spent countless hours on the phone with families . . . some of them I got to share good news ("We just received word, your son/daughter is on that plane!") . . . and then with others I wasn't so lucky ("I'm sorry . . . we have no word yet . . . it appears that your child is still at the orphanage in Port-au-Prince . . .").  For those that were fortunate enough to learn of their child's imminent arrival into the States, I had to field hundreds of questions about when and where they could be reunited with their families, all without actual confirmed information to share.  (No one has done this before!  It was really trial by fire for all those involved!)  I shot from my hip a lot that day/night . . . and am grateful for the most part, the parents listened to what I had to say.  Some read rumors online that told them to go to Florida, when in reality, they were going to need to come to Colorado to receive their child(ren) . . . oh well . . . at least they could be grateful their children were no longer wondering if there was going to be enough food and water to sustain them for the week.

With Raleigh's support (he deserves a medal of honor for sure!), I went into the office Saturday the 23rd where I stayed until nearly 9p . . . I spoke with an officer from the United States Citizenship and Immigration Services (USCIS) headquarters in Washington, D.C. for hours, and diligently worked to clear one child at a time, name by name, for the humanitarian parole visa.  And one by one, they were given the green light.  I was so relieved!  The officer attempted to stop me as afternoon turned into evening--she wanted to go home--No, I said . . . she couldn't go home until I went home and I wasn't going to do that so as long as we had children sleeping outside and their families waiting anxiously for them here . . . I think she was irritated with my persistence, however she obliged.  By the time I couldn't read my writing anymore nor remember who I was dialing on the phone (really, it was that crazy!), we had all but 6 kiddos cleared.  Hooray!

I went home that night with two phones--mine and the CCAI 24-hour emergency phone--and fielded calls all through the night.  I think I got maybe 3 consecutive hours of sleep that night, and was quickly jolted from my restless slumber every time the phone would vibrate beside my pillow.  I was in constant contact with the team in FL (who, you guessed it, were in the right place!) who were impatiently waiting for the children to be released from Customs . . . a 16 hour process for some.  And then there were the phone calls attempting to arrange further transportation for the kiddos I worked so hard to clear throughout the day before, all the while trying to keep anxious families in the loop, with accurate information that changed on the hour, every hour.  (They're coming to CO and families should get them here, they're not coming to CO and families need to travel to FL to pick up their children, only some are coming to CO, but we're not sure which ones . . . )  Really . . . it was both confusing and frustrating.

Finally at 6a MST (no worries--I wasn't sleeping anyways!), I received the call that 15 kids were on the plane with our team (minus Judy and Jean who decided to stay behind in case other children landed soon) and were ready to depart for Colorado.  I sounded the alarms and notified the respective families, and headed out to the airport.

On Sunday, January 24th just after 11:30a . . . in a hangar at Denver International Airport, we watched the plane land and stop on the tarmac.  Little faces peered out the small windows, looking to have some glimpse as to what their future would hold.  I'm sure they were as anxious to meet Colorado as Colorado was anxious to meet them.  The stairs were rolled in and the Governor opened the door, and escorted by wonderful staff who had them wrapped in blankets and hats (not the same attire they were used to wearing in Haiti), we saw each child come down out of the plane . . . headed for a new life that they themselves couldn't even imagine.  And one by one we saw them get scooped up by anxious parents who burst into tears at just the sight of their sweet faces . . . and for awhile it was chaos everywhere . . . ever square inch of that hangar was buzzing with activity . . . kids crying, parents crying . . . kids smiling and parents smiling . . . nervous laughs of uncertainty and others just giggles of awkwardness at the craziness of it all . . . quick photos for official records and others for scrapbooks and lifetime memories . . . news crews and reporters looking for stories to publish later that night both on television and in the papers . . . some children being whisked away for immediate medical attention, others taking the time to sit and eat some snacks with their new families, who still looked strange and smelled funny . . .

It was crazy.  It was chaotic.  It was absolutely BEAUTIFUL.  I think that was the most amazing mess I've ever been a part of, and I mean that with all I have.  I was dazed when it was over ("Did that really just happen?"), however yes--it did . . . the day was a success!

I think about what those kids went through . . . earthquake, their world literally falling into pieces around them . . . their safe sanctuary invaded by robbers who take what little food and water they have . . . sleeping outside . . . toothpaste under their noses to mask some incredibly pungent smells . . . aftershocks that are as frightening as the first earthquake itself . . . stories of another land of new faces, a place they are promised they'll see . . . false trips to and from the US Embassy in Port-au-Prince . . . and then a quick dash to the airport where they are placed on a military cargo plane with men in full uniform and hundreds of anxiety-ridden refugees . . . sitting in an airport in FL, waiting for strange looking people to find the right papers and stamp them . . . 4, 6, 10, 12 hours . . . still waiting . . . then on another plane to a place where strange smoke comes out of your mouth when you exhale in the cold air . . . then enthusiastic hugging and being held tightly by white faces who are as dysregulated as the kids are . . . only to be taken away from the black faces they've known and loved to head in separate directions, quietly this time to a place called "home" where there they are expected to heal and nurture new relationships . . .

I can only imagine . . . (sigh)

Now, a little over a week later, we have brought another 6 home . . . and still, anxiously await the word that the last 18 are on their way . . . the Haitian Prime Minister must sign off on each child that exits Haiti now, so even though we have confirmation our kiddos are "cleared" for parole by the set standards, they cannot receive their travel documents until Jean-Max Bellerive waves his magic pen over the top of them . . . and as is true Haiti-style, there doesn't appear to be any logic or consistency in how the children are being approved.  So again, we wait.

We still remain very busy at the office (still fielding phone calls from anxious parents wanting their children home and others who are anxious to finalize the adoption of their new children here) and yes, are still working with several government offices to petition to get our children released . . . until they're all home, I'm afraid it's a never-ending job.

Please continue to pray for the children and caretakers of the Maison orphanage . . . for continued safety and protection, for their basic needs to be met, and for their emotional well-being despite the trauma . . .

Please continue to pray for the adoptive families still waiting for word on their child(ren) in Haiti . . . that they may have faith they will see a positive end result soon and that they feel comfortable continuing to trust those that are advocating on their behalf . . .

Please continue to pray for the families that already have their children at home . . . so that they may heal as a family and work together to endure the transition that must take place . . . that the children feel safe in the arms of their new families and that likewise, the families continue to open their hearts to these little ones who have much reason to be skeptical of their love . . .

Please continue to pray for those of us who work day in and out (literally) to bring the children home to their adoptive families . . . for a good attitude in the face of frustration and continued stamina in the face of pure exhaustion, so that we may remain encouraged in our work and motivated to put forth even more than we feel we have left inside . . .

Thank you all for your thoughts and prayers . . . I know they are helping and to be honest, might be the only things keeping me sane at this moment in time.  :)  I love you all.

~Kimberly