Home 4 weeks....still broken

I've hesitated to write this post. Why? It will be long and raw. It will be hard for many to understand or comprehend. It will draw the tears from deep within that have been accumulating inside for the last 4 weeks. Emotions I've suppressed will rise to the surface and I'll have a choice. Face them or push them back down. I know the best thing for me is to face them, process them and continue moving forward. However, the ache will be so intense and the anger infuriating that I struggle to combat those emotions right now. Even as I write this with tears flowing, my hands hit the keys with anger and teeth grit with frustration. My heart remains broken. I am broken. For all that have asked, I am sorry if I lied, but I am simply not okay.

Leaving Haiti 4 weeks ago was the right decision. I do believe it saved our lives. Yet, somehow I almost hate myself for getting on that plane. I was leaving my little girl. The one my heart has grown to love over the last 5 years. The one we prayed for over and over and over. That little girl became a part of our lives the day we said YES to adopt, but to have finally met her, held her, laughed with her and cared for her to then leave her, without any explanation, without a good bye hug or kiss or anything....just not right. Just not fair. I left Haiti broken and I am not yet restored.

I can't possibly recount every detail of those last couple days in Haiti and I'm not sure anyone would want to hear it all. However, I do think some day when I look back it will be good for my soul to read this and see how God worked through it all. I do believe, STILL, that His plan is greater. That this brokenness won't be for nothing. So, if you're in for the long haul, here is a snapshot of the last couple days in Haiti.

Sunday morning I got up and was exhausted. I was grateful for a day of rest but knew we wouldn't be able to go to the resort like we had hoped. We all sat down to breakfast and Jason was the only one who could really eat. Qade and I tried, but it just wasn't happening. Qade left the table and as I attempted to stand I knew I was in trouble. I couldn't get up. I was dizzy and weak and just felt horrible. I told Jason I had had enough and we needed to see doctors. On a Sunday, of all days! He called the director's husband and about an hour later a driver showed up to take us to a doctor. While on the way there I tried not to overthink. I had no idea what this would be like, how the care would be handled or any of it really. When we arrived the man we called met us there. He translated for us and slowly we were separated into areas divided by curtains. Each area had a hospital bed. It was small and uncomfortable. I was placed on one end and Qade on another. I hated being away from him and not the one communicating for him, but I had to believe God had it all taken care of ahead of time. Jason checked on me maybe twice. Our driver also did. He stayed with us the entire time, which was 9 long hours. Nine very long hours. During that time I worshiped God through song, prayer and even wrote the following:

'Well while I'm sitting here in the hospital hooked up to an iv getting fluids I might as well jot down my thoughts. First thought, this sucks. Second thought, God knows that and he knew this would all happen and he's never left our side. Fear has crept in over and over and over the last few days in all forms. Anxiety, doubt, guilt, shame. I've tried hard to push it away and not believe the lies. Today before we left the guesthouse Jason had messaged the lady at our agency. Her response was priceless and full of so much truth. "You must be ticking off the enemy! Bergeline must have an incredible plan for her life and the enemy doesn't want that." (not exact but something to that accord) The three of us gathered together and each prayed aloud against the enemy's schemes. We thanked God for the time that we've had, good and bad. We prayed for healing and protection. For wisdom for the doctors and his healing to overcome. When we got in the van to head to the hospital I felt awful. I wanted to pass out, give up and be done. And then I felt it. God's presence so strong and real and I began to laugh! I laughed at Satan and all his fear and antics and anything he's tried so far. I laughed knowing he was not going to win but that my God has this. There are no surprises to him. Spiritual warfare is war and we have so many warriors fighting for us and our sweet B! Our spiritual family is mighty and strong and many! Our God is even more!!!'

That folks, is what carried me through that day. Through those nine long hours with no food, fighting a fever and watching nurses do things I know would NEVER be done in America!!! I even had to tell one nurse to stop because she was doing it wrong and could've killed me! When we left that hospital we had bags of prescriptions, paperwork I couldn't read and still felt miserable.

When we got back to the guesthouse we took our medicine and tried to settle in for the night in hopes that we would wake up the next day feeling better. Sadly, that didn't happen. Rather, I went downhill and so did Qade, we just didn't realize it. I'm still not sure if it was an allergic reaction to a medicine or my blood pressure dropping or a high fever or all of it, but I have never experienced what happened next before in my life. It was like an out of body experience mixed with hallucinating and feeling like I was going to pass out. My brain was telling my body to do things but my body couldn't keep up. Eventually I couldn't function and just laid down. I asked Jason to put on worship music as I knew I was going downhill and no matter what I had to keep Christ at the front of my mind. I laid there with my arm raised, rest of my body limp attempting to sing praises to my King. It was probably the saddest I've ever sounded singing and yet His peace continued to overwhelm my soul. Jason had called again for a ride to the hospital. Whatever was happening had to be taken care of. So, the ride came, they helped me get inside the van and eventually we were on our way again, to another emergency room.

I was so out of it on the way there, singing things, saying things, I don't even recall it all. I remember it being so dark outside but every once in awhile a spot in the wall on the side of the road would open up and you could see lights all up and down the mountains. We drove for what felt like an hour, but who really knows when you're reacting the way I did. We arrived and were taken to the creepiest, tiny rooms. It felt like I was in a movie, just kidnapped and they were going to do some strange experiment on me. However, the doctor and nurses were quite kind. The knew some English which helped tremendously. Once again, a wall separated me from Qade. I yelled out whatever I wanted to add into the conversation anyway. I was still so loopy I'm sure they got a good laugh out of it all. Qade didn't actually believe he was that bad and didn't want to be seen by another doctor. He was tired of being poked (it took them way too many tried to get his IV in at the last hospital). However, had we not forced him, he could've died. His blood pressure was scarily low and his heart rate way too high. We were probably in those rooms for a couple hours as they assessed us and gave us medicine, more fluids and I got a nice shot in the rear end. They then moved us, which I was truly grateful for. That bed was so hard, the room got creepier and sooo HOT!

Our new rooms were again, separate. Sigh. They were large rooms, but cold and dark. It felt like prison in some ways. They weren't clean. There was no soap or hand sanitizer anywhere. The nurses didn't wear gloves very often and again I saw things that were just odd. I slept on and off while trying to stay hydrated. Qade was still struggling to eat and even take his meds. I was relying on my phone to message Jason and keep up with what was happening while coming off of my 'reaction'. Eventually a new doctor came in but he spoke hardly any English and didn't have any charts from the ER doctor. It just didn't make sense. I know the medical personnel were trying their best but I just don't think they had the resources or knew exactly what to do with us. They attempted some medications but it wasn't consistent and though we would take one step forward, we would then fall backwards again.

Staff from the guesthouse came to visit and someone was always with us. They gave us the best care possible. It was incredible. By Monday afternoon we had a decision to make. We were told by a couple different people to get home. Forget all else and just get home. My heart struggled with that decision tremendously as we were so close to completing our socialization trip. We really only needed Tuesday to complete it. The interview could be done and then we could go home. But it wasn't realistic or the right thing to do at that time. I left it all up to Jason to take care of new flights and get us home safe. I couldn't do it or think about it, just follow the leader God placed in my life years ago and prepared for this very moment. After a long wait and some trouble convincing the nurse we needed to leave, they eventually took our IVs out and we headed back to the guesthouse to pack up.

While laying on that bed in the hospital, in and out of sleep, I kept checking Facebook. It was a moment in my life where I was SO INCREDIBLY GRATEFUL for social media. All of the prayers that went up, the support from hundreds, maybe even thousands, that is what kept me going. That is what kept me fighting. That is how I knew, without a doubt, God had orchestrated an army to fight on our behalf. Thank you all! Thank you for sharing your posts, asking for prayer and support. Thank you for encouraging us and the ones we love as they too struggled to hold it together while we were in Haiti. Thank you for the continued support we received even after we got home through texts, calls, emails, meals and so much more!

We made it to Chicago and were greeted by both sets of our parents. I lost it when hugging them! It felt so good to be home and yet so wrong. That's when I truly broke.  Now, even 4 weeks later, it's so hard to think about all that happened. It wasn't supposed to be that way. We waited 4.5 years to meet our little girl. It was supposed to be beautiful, heart warming and leave us with this great anticipation to return and bring her home soon. It was beautiful and heart warming, no doubt. And I certainly CANNOT WAIT to bring her home. But now we are waiting, again. We had to submit a letter requesting a return trip for three days to complete our socialization. That letter goes to IBESR. They are the ones we waited on for three years to get our referral and now, again, we are waiting on them to respond to a letter we sent weeks ago. I remain broken.

Writing this post is the start of my healing journey. But until I can wrap my arms around Bergeline, until I know she is legally our little girl, until she is home with her family, here in the United states, in this house, a part of me will remain broken, incomplete and longing for more.