The Waiting Place

You can get so confused
that you'll start in to race
down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace
and grind on for miles across weirdish wild space,
headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.
The Waiting Place...
...for people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go
or a bus to come, or a plane to go
or the mail to come, or the rain to go
or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow
or waiting around for a Yes or a No
or waiting for their heir to grow.
Everyone is just waiting.
- Oh the Places You'll Go! by Dr. Seuss

And that's what its been. This whole week for people trying to complete their adoptions of Haitian children has been an absolute roller coaster.

Last Sunday the kids received what we thought was clearance to come to the USA and parents were told they could expect a call as early as Tuesday. They frantically prepared. They sit and wait for a call. Day by day went by with precious little news other than "Not today, maybe tomorrow." or "Not this morning, maybe tonight."

Finally, those beautiful words are spoken- "Your long awaited children will be at the airport in Sanford, Florida at 1pm on Saturday." That call was made at 3am Saturday morning. My friends, Josh and Liz, called me as I had told them we would be happily at their service to assist any way we could with the arrangements. They got a flight into Orlando landing at 11am with hotel reservations for Saturday night and a flight out on Sunday evening. I hang up the phone with Liz at 3:30am and join Randy outside birthing a goat. We wait for about 30 minutes until we see the kid sufficiently nurse then head back inside. Randy and I quickly figured out our plan for the day which involved lots of shuffling of car seats, vehicles and our 3 children so that we could both take part in the happy moment without Nathan being away from his sole food source for long. Nathan and I headed off. We found our friends at the airport. I haven't seen them in 10 years. We zoom off, get lost, GPS it and finally checked them into the hotel. Liz immediately begins packing a bag: snacks, cups, toys, paperwork, paperwork and more paperwork. With all this and little more we sped off to the Sanford airport (which google maps has WAY off base by the way!).

Liz hears from a fellow adopting friend that she had not received the call that her kids were coming, but was heading to Florida anyway planning to celebrate with everyone else. She also wanted to be there just in case her kids really were on that plane. I think about "The Audacity of Hope" and wonder if Obama has any clue how deeply that phrase can go. Liz calls the agency director and casually asks about this friend's children. The director says, completely off record, that she legally could not call her because she was never told that her kids were on the plane but that rumor has it that they could be. Liz then calls the friend giving an ever-so-slight glimmer of hope. Rumors are basically all they've had to go on for a week.

We arrive about 1pm to find out that the plane has not even left Haiti yet. The numbers of children on the plane vary from 79 to 130. Josh and Liz breathe a sigh of relief when Josh receives a call from a photo-journalist friend in Haiti that he physically saw their two children, Marie, 3 1/2 and Johnny, 2 1/2, buckled into the plane. We begin the wait.

They are informed that when the children land the parents will not be able to have any contact with their children until all processing is complete. This upsets Liz a lot until she sees the Red Cross volunteers who will be caring for them in the mean time: nurses, paramedics, and lots of teens and young adults eager to play with them and make these precious kids feel safe and comfortable. She still hopes she and Josh will be able to be a part of the process as translators just to be able to see the kids.

We see a couple with pictures of their adopted children screen printed onto their t-shirts. They hoped it would help them get the kids faster.

We hunker down. Randy arrives with Aaron and the portable DVD player. We watch Swiss Family Robinson while Josh and Randy chide each other over coconut bombs.

We finally receive news that the plane is in the air. Shortly later its on the ground. Parents run out to see it. A few tears flow. They watch the children walk, be carried or wheeled into the building but are too far away to recognize who is who.

A rumor flies around that it will take 5 hours to process them all. People think it may have been an exaggerated comment taken literally. That rumor shows up on the news which was heard via someone outside the airport talking to those of us waiting. It gives it a fearful element of confirmation. More rumors.

Josh strikes up a conversation in Creole with a Haitian man. He's adopting! Josh is really moved. He says this is unprecedented. Haitians just don't adopt. This man and his wife are awaiting their children with everyone else, waiting to take them home to California. "They are my people. I have to take care of them." he says.

More rumors. More questions. More waiting.

Pizzas, snacks and drinks are purchased for dinner. Some one starts to make an announcement. Parents run from all corners of baggage claim to hear it. They will call when they're ready. It will be a long time. Don't worry, the kids are fine. Yes, they are eating. Yes, they have medical attention. There are 80 children in process. 80? Yes, eight zero. At this the 2 women who had not received calls burst into tears. With only 80 that most likely means theirs are not on the plane. One moves to a secluded corner while her friend watches her daughter, Olivia, adopted from China 6 months ago. She curls up on an unmoving baggage carousel and calls her husband. All you can see are her shoulders shaking as she sobs.

Aaron and Olivia, who is 18 months old, begin to play together. I begin to cry, yet again, as I remember caring for another Chinese Olivia with the same repaired cleft lip many years ago while her now adopted family took a much needed vacation. That Olivia is now a stunningly beautiful 9 year old girl with 3 younger siblings. The beauty of adoption always moves me to tears. I do what I can to pull myself together. Liz is comforting me. I feel like a doofus.

More rumors. More questions. More waiting.

Will they process each child one at a time and let them out? Will they wait until all are done and then let them go as a group? Are the kids scared and crying? Why is it taking so long? Outrage gets turned against the agency director. Liz hugs her and offers support. The director and I sit and have a lengthy discussion about adoption. "I've processed 14,000 adoptions," she says. "Josh and Liz are one of the very few couples who have not taken the stress of it out on me. Its such a stressful process that everyone eventually snaps." Tears well up. "Josh and Liz are a very special couple."

Aaron climbs into the lap and arms of a random female reporter interviewing Olivia's mother. He hugs her, she's caught totally off guard, but loves it. Everyone does. Levity is a precious thing.

Nathan begins his ministry of peace as he gets handed to anxious mothers who just long to hold a child, any child. He smiles and laughs. His adorers are transfixed and calmed if only for a moment. He spits up on one. She doesn't care a bit.

We wait some more. Josh is called and he disappears down the long mysterious hallway which we can only assume leads to the kids. Hope mounts. I gather things together and get the camera ready sure it will be soon. Nothing happens. We ask questions. No one knows anything. Liz gets a call from Homeland Security that the plane with her children is in the air. She's confused but politely plays along not knowing if they are going to give her information she needs to get the kids. She jots down some notes and hangs up realizing that they are woefully behind in their calls and know even less than she does. She repositions herself to where she can again see the long mysterious hallway and continues her vigil for Josh. Everyone's on alert. Rumors fly. A camera man gives Liz, who's shivering, a jacket. He tells her he'll only pass on rumors he hears twice.

Liz finally gets a text message from Josh. They needed help identifying Johnny so called him back for confirmation on which child was him. He was badly dehydrated and the paramedic was giving a very sleepy Johnny sips of Gatorade every 15 minutes. He asks Josh if he has biological kids and then decides that Josh is fit to hold and feed his own son. Johnny wakes up briefly when he's being passed, sees its Josh and snuggles in close.

I call Randy's parents who have Gloria and ask if she can spend the night. I'll pick her up at 8am. Its sure to be done by then.

A few hours later we get another text that Johnny still wasn't getting hydrated so they had to put in an IV, but allowed Josh to continue to hold him. Josh also sends word back that there are 2 volunteers to every child and the kids seem very happy and comfortable. All the waiting parents are relieved to get this news... any news.

Randy asks if I have any cash. He wants to buy Liz a massage in the automated massage chairs nearby. I spent all our cash on tolls getting to the hotel and airport.

Liz's phone goes dead. We text Josh and tell him to send all updates to Randy's phone. He says the kids are all sleeping now.

I lay out a blanket for Aaron. Its pushing 11pm and he only rested while the movie was playing. We unplugged it so people could charge their phones and computers. They continue to say it will be a long time- an hour, 5 hours, a day? Aaron falls asleep. I wonder how long to wait there and deprive my boys of sleep.

A crowd forms in one corner of the room. Shouts of joy erupt with several choruses of, "That's them!" followed by tears of relief and hugs. I'm desperate to know what's going on, but I stand back, saving the space for parents. One of the mothers falls into Liz's arms sobbing, "They're here! They're here!" She was one who could only assume they weren't. Soon after the same scene was repeated with Olivia's mom. I cry for her. For all of them. Its a very special moment. They know the wait will soon be over.

Soon.

When the crowd dies down, I wander over to see the what the excitement was over. A camera man slipped an "unofficial" cd to a waiting dad. It contained "unofficial" footage of the children getting off the plane. That zoom lens must have been awesome because the close-ups were clear and beautiful. Liz assumes two children being carried by someone are Marie and Johnny but can't be sure because their faces were turned.

I return to our hang out point to find that Randy put Aaron's reporter on watch duty over both boys while he slipped away for a moment. Both were sleeping and she was typing her story with her computer plugged into the outlet nearby. We laugh about how perfect strangers suddenly become family.

I decide I'm being selfish in wanting to see the happy ending in person. Randy leaves to bring one car around so that I may take the boys home and go to bed. I cry leaving. Randy stays behind so he can take Josh, Liz and the kids to the hotel when all is done. I cry most of the way home. I put the boys to bed, do some minimal animal chores, almost forgetting about our new baby goat, and posted an update on Liz's facebook wall. Then I tried to sleep. As exhausted as I was, it would not come. I replied to some more facebook comments and tried sleep again. Still no go. Finally put Nathan to work again. I got him out of his crib and curled up with him in bed with me. His ministry of peace went to work immediately. I calmed down and went to sleep with my cell phone in hand.

At 3am Randy calls to get directions to the hotel so he can give them to other parents. They make a reservation for a second night. The wait continues.

5am, another call! I jump hoping for good news and get it- they're calling people back one by one and about 20 minutes later they come out with their children! Randy lets me listen to the eruption of cheers as a family leaves the airport with their new children in their arms. I talk briefly with Liz. She's ecstatic. She's no longer tired and feels she can wait as long as necessary. Its really happening!

More waiting. I go back to sleep.

A child needs a hospital immediately. The parents find out and begin to fight with Homeland Security who won't release the child. The agency director steps in with barrels loaded. She says they can either finish quickly and release the child or they will take the child by force. Homeland security continued to not cooperate so they forcefully removed their child and stormed out the doors to take him or her to a hospital. The backlash of their actions is unknown.
Another child needs more medical attention than what is available, but is not as dire. The mother pleads with them to release the child so she may catch her flight back to her hometown where her insurance is active. The outcome of that story is still unknown.

10am: Nothing is progressing. Turns out those being called back were Category 1 adoptions (basically complete) and those from Colorado. The governor of Colorado flew in a private plane to expedite his residents' adoptions and bring them home. The rest still wait.

Rumors continue to fly. Randy comes home as they have hired a bus to wait for all adopting families. We hear that Homeland Security has released them but now Health and Human Services needs to go through each child on a case by case basis. Rumors say that paperwork was destroyed in the earthquake and they have to determine if these people, (who have been waiting for now nearly 24 hours in an airport, some who are still unsure if their kids are even here, all of whom have spent about $35,000 in the adoption process) are fit to be parents. I shake my head in disbelief. I understand. But I don't. I think its a bureaucratic mess, but wonder if it really is necessary.

We wait.

Parents cannot leave the airport because if they get called back to receive their children and they aren't there, the child gets immediately put into Florida Protective Custody and it becomes a custody battle. The child is then a ward of a state that the parents don't even live in.

We wait some more.

No more news. Friends are hanging on facebook hoping for a light at the end of the tunnel. A faint glimmer of hope. All anyone knows is that the children are safe. "That's what I begged from God, right? I need to be ok with that." Liz says.