Coming Home 7/30/14

Finally.  I have wondered what I would say or do when we got the word that it's time to bring our children home.  Four years.  What do you say after four years of waiting?  When I look back at our first posts, they are joyful and exciting.  As the months and years drug on, the posts got pretty raw and cynical. I don't regret that honestly.  It was always my intention to be real about this process and our feelings.  But looking back my biggest hope was that more than our helplessness and utter pain, you witnessed our courage and fight.  We pray you saw our constant faith to keep going and believing. We hope you heard our cries to Jesus and saw our continued trust in Him even though we were sad, angry, and hurting. 

Four years ago, I looked those boys in the eyes and knew I was their mama.  Everyone told me it couldn't happen. Everyone told me the risks, steps, hurdles - that is was impossible.  I didn't listen.  I've always been a bit stubborn, and in this case, it worked out.   One of my favorite memories was riding in a car full of Creole-speaking strangers (and a chicken) to get to a meeting in the hills of Haiti to start the process of adopting of our sons.  I was crazy!  When I look back at that day and all that we've been through to get to where we are, I have so much to share with our boys and the world.  And I will. It's on my heart to write a book. Someday.  For now, I'm going to focus on being a new mama.  And what I can't put into words right now, I'll let a video speak for me. Click here. (Unfortunately it won't work on mobile devices due to copyrighted music - but enjoy it on your computer!)

In the Home Stretch...and then...

Last Wednesday, June 25 was just a regular day.  Todd and I had been basking in the excitement of knowing our boys would be home in just another 6-8 weeks.  We were finally ending the “wait.”  Everything seemed uphill from here.  And then I got the email with the subject line, “Wendy is very sick.”

I was at my favorite coffee shop with a dear friend.  Todd was in London for work.  He had not slept for 24 hours because of traveling, and it was now bedtime in England, but I awoke him to ask with confusion and panic, “What do we do?!”

We both started making calls, and through an American friend in Haiti we were able to connect with a hospital run by American doctors who were able to see him right away.  We waited for answers while also feeling so helpless – all of us in 3 different countries wondering what to do next.  His diagnosis was a ruptured appendix.  They removed his appendix, repaired his intestines that had become damaged, and for several days following surgery drained toxic fluids from his abdomen and kept him on antibiotics while monitoring for any infection.  Our visas are currently being expedited because of this medical situation, but we still have no way to know for sure how soon that will be.  We struggled with decisions. Should one of us go be with him right now?  And then do we just stay until we get our visas?  Or do we go be with him, come back home when he’s out of the hospital, and go back when we have visas? Or do we just pray and wait?   Without knowing when those visas will come, we face the uncertainty of days/weeks of being there in Haiti waiting. Logistically and financially we decided to wait until we have word of visas.  And it was especially helpful to know Wendy was recovering so beautifully and doing well.  But we still struggle with this decision.  Was it the RIGHT one?  Is there a RIGHT one?  Oh, the shame I have felt as a mother. 

Only weeks away from being HOME.  Weeks away from celebration.  Weeks away from smiles, laughter, joy, and the hope of relieving some long pent-up anxiety and grief of being apart.  But we found ourselves again scared, angry, and helpless.  I still can’t understand this – why our family has gone through such hard times.  We could really use a break.  And I am also determined to keep going, fighting, and believing.

I absolutely despise the phrases, “everything happens for a reason,” or “God doesn’t give us what we can’t handle.”  They feel so dismissive and avoidant of human pain.  We have had a lot of things on this journey we couldn’t handle.  And what does it mean to “handle” it anyway?  If it means being in fetal position praying and crying with a glass of wine nearby, then maybe I did handle it?  Or if it means asking your friends for help because you can’t mentally or physically do anything else, then I’ve handled it.  If it means sitting on this computer sharing brutal honesty with myself and others, then I’m handling it.  If it means pouring out my heartache to God and letting him comfort me while STILL feeling my feelings, then I’m handling it.  But if it means pushing through, pretending to be okay, or putting on a happy face and not complaining because “God’s got this,” then I’m failing miserably. A dear friend who had a very scary brain tumor shared about all these “be strong” one-liners she received when facing her surgery: “They take away the validity of your feelings and make you feel like you're spiritually failing if you're not 100% calm, peaceful and totally trusting the plan.”  Amen, Sarah.  Well said.

God gave me my feelings. They are allowed.  I realize my behaviors in response to those feelings aren’t always ideal. But the reality is that I spent a lot of years “pushing through” and “staying strong.” Those things really just kept me unaware of the reality of being human. And in humanity, we feel.  We feel hard things.  And when we are honest about what we feel, we can experience life fully together. I don’t think tragedy is for a reason.  I think tragedy just happens because life just happens.  Feelings just happen because we were created with them.  And we phone God and loved ones to get through it – not around it. 

I don’t know why our son had to suffer just weeks before coming home.  A long time ago I might have wasted energy trying to figure this out.  Now instead of ignoring my pain by “trying to figure this out,” I’m noticing my pain.  And what I notice is that I’m feeling a lot of guilt and shame.   I have questions like:  “Is he going to be okay without his mom and dad there?  Does he feel loved and safe?  Am I a bad mom because I’m not going RIGHT now to be with him? What will others think of me for not going to be with my kid during surgery?  Was there a better way to handle this?”

In his book The Voice of the Heart, Chip Dodd says about shame…

“Shame tells me I am limited. I am mistake-ridden. I have some answers, but I don’t have all the answers.  I need you to help me; I can’t do this alone.  We need each other.”

Todd and I are exhausted, hurting, and just want our kids to come home.  One of us could have gone to Haiti right now.  That would have been a good decision too.  But we felt a huge pull to one another through this recent crisis.  So we decided to pack up the car and get away together - to just sit with all that we are facing and about to face. We talked about our boys – school, doctors, soccer shoes, etc.  We cried about his grandparents not getting to meet them.  We recalled these last 4 years of waiting and how it has taken its toll.  We talked about our parenting fears.  We got dressed up and went out like teenagers.  We lay under the stars.  I don’t know if this was the right thing.  But it was our right thing.    As Dodd’s line above suggest, we can’t do this alone. We need each other. 

 

We are hopeful to bring them home sooner than expected. Because it is already a huge transition for the entire family, and especially now with the circumstances of Wendy’s health, we are asking for help and establishing healthy boundaries.  Not only do we need help from each other as parents, but we will need help from others.  So we’ve called in the troops. 

We want to be able to focus our time and attention on the boys, so we will be unable to field all the calls, emails, texts, and facebook messages of those who want to help, meet them, etc when it is time to bring them home.  We have friends who will be in charge of communicating and setting up specific things for us (like meals, etc).  This is not in any way intended to be rude – in fact, we hope it ensures you actually get a response since we will be so focused on our boys!  So we hope you will understand that in the days ahead, most of our communication about the boys’ homecoming will be through these dear friends who have graciously accepted our request for help.

This is what our hardship is teaching us – be honest about our pain, lean on each other, be in community, ask for help, let people love you, let go of what we can’t control, and pull the weeds in our life garden.

Thank you for loving our family.

I Like to Dance Every Day

Our first day on this most recent visit with the boys we got to witness a new song they had just learned...

I like to dance every day.

I like to dance every day.

I like to dance every day.

Because I know He loves me.

(Click on picture below for video - hoping it works!)

Friends, this is the kind of stuff that keeps us all sane in this forever long wait.  We just keep dancing.  We just keep singing.  And we just keep believing.  Because we know that we are deeply loved by a comforting Father.

We still don't have a definite homecoming date, but the next step we are waiting to complete is the printing of their passports.  After that we wait for visas, and THEN we can bring them home.  But there's still no way to know how long each of these things will take, as there are signatures, stamps of approval, etc, etc. that have to happen.  What should really only take a few weeks could still be another few months or more.  But we dance every day.  And wait. And hope.

A few highlights from our trip (besides this fantastic song)...

Wendy has learned more and more English!  My first day there, he said, "nice to meet you, mom," which I figure he thinks is a greeting for everyone and not just for someone he just met.  Nonetheless, it warmed my heart.   He is my son who wants to "pataje" (share) everything he has!  I give him candy, and he says, "mom, pataje ak tout moun?" (share with everyone?)  He also likes to fart on people - anyone - even someone he has newly met (sorry, Jon Peters).  I am not sure where he learned this - do you know, Todd Ramey?  I love my son's ability to dance to the beat of his own drum - and any drum for that matter.  He can't stop dancing, which will make for an AMAZING addition to our Ramey family dance parties.


Woody wants to please us so badly.  Everytime I watch him in class or sing a song with his friends, he flashes me this smile that might as well translate to "Do you see how well I'm doing, Mom?"  I just love it - probably because that little achiever spirit speaks to my own desire to please.  I get him - a lot.  One day when I was walking alone down to meet the boys at the basketball court I noticed a beautiful rose that had just bloomed, so I took a picture.  Later, without knowing about my picture, Woody had picked that same rose (with a little help from Daddy) and brought it to me for my hair.  He is a quiet and charming boy.  I love his sweet spirit!  And he needs everything in its place  - again, like his mama.


Wilnes struggles because he has no other kid his age in the orphanage anymore.  He gets lonely.  He is growing facial hair.  He voice is deeper.  He hangs out mostly with some of the workers, so he vacillates between being a kid and an adult.  But on this trip he really let himself be a kid - and let me be his mama.  Several times he put his arm around me and leaned into me tight and just let me hold him.  He is almost my height now - which I realize isn't saying much - but it was so sweet to me for my big boy to let me hold him - to let himself be safely loved and held.  He has struggled the past year, for many reasons, so it was a joy to see him smile and laugh so much on this trip (even though he still refuses to do it in pictures because it isn't "cool" - but we caught a few anyway).  He dearly loves the little ones in the orphanage, and it is so sweet to see how much they love him too.  He is super excited about America and ready to play soccer here!

While it is incredibly exciting they will be coming home soon, we are all also terrified! This is new territory for each of us.  We are joyful, yet we are all grieving the lives we are about to leave behind.  Change is still change. Loss is still loss.  We showed them pictures of our house (their new house), and even though they were smiling, I noticed their little tummies were moving in and out so fast - shallow little breaths that seemed to say, "this is scary."  And we totally get that! We can't know for sure the hardships that are to come. But we know we will be okay.  We'll make one stitch at a time on this quilt of life and turn it into something beautiful together.  And we'll dance every day, because He loves us. 

Parenting on days like today

My mentor and friend Amy recently asked me, “What is it like to parent from afar?”  I laughed from sheer confusion, sadness, and probably insanity.  It is hard to describe.  In that moment my answer was that I just keep showing up whenever I can.  One of us goes to Haiti to see them every 3-4 months.  It is hard on us in a lot of ways logistically – time, money, etc - but of course emotionally as well.  It rips our heart out (and theirs) every time we say goodbye.  But my response to this is always, “The hellos are worth the goodbyes.”  I want my boys to feel and know, “See, guys, we are here again for you.  We are fighting to bring you home.  We are here with you.”

But then what do we do in that time in between when we’re not physically there? Especially on a day like today, the 4 year anniversary of the Haiti earthquake, when my boys feel the effects of their trauma and grief even more than usual?  Amy’s question, one I think about a lot, is an ongoing learning experience.  There are lots of parenting books out there, but none that I’ve found so far about “How to parent your 3 sons in Haiti that you’ve been waiting to bring home for 4 years and have no clue how much longer you will wait.”  (Sidenote for self– maybe I’ll write that book).  I find myself grappling a lot with fear and shame that maybe I’m not parenting “good enough.”  I should be there today to hold my sons and tell them it will all be okay!  What can I do?  And where the hell is the book that tells me what to do?!

And then I found one.  Totally forgot I have this really cool book called the Bible - which you can now download as an app on your phone.  I woke up this morning thinking about what Wendy, one of my twins, said about the earthquake one time.  In his sweet little Creole he told me, “everything was shaking, but the nannies came to hold us.”  Just picture that with me.  As I thought about that and the ways God sends us comfort in our trouble, I was drawn to Psalm 91.  I read it many times this morning, and here is what I heard God saying to me through this passage:  “I will come to you when you’re in trouble.  I will send my angels.  I am your refuge – come, get under my wings.”  Those nannies were angels holding my boys and so many others.  Those angels hold you and me.  When I can’t physically hold and protect my sons today or any other day, I know who is.  “Godspeed” is the name of the song we play every time I’m with them in Haiti.  It has a line that says “God hears amen wherever we are” and another that says “oh my love will fly to you each night on angels’ wings.”  We’ve been singing those lines together for 4 years.  And in my human nature sometimes I still forget that God is doing the parenting – whether I can be there physically or not. My boys are held in His arms.  And so am I.  I rest in this promise.  And that’s how I parent from afar.  

**My background in the music business won't let me end this post without crediting Radney Foster for writing the lyrics to "Godspeed."  Thanks for writing a song that speaks my heart and makes me cry a really ugly cry.  Amen.

Still believing, even though it hurts

Todd is currently on top of the roof hanging Christmas lights and swearing. I’m sitting here writing while downloading really cheesy Christmas music.  I’ve got a warm cup of tea and a cute little snowman candle glowing.  We got all our Christmas decorations out and up.  We just need to trim the tree, and then we’re done!  And then everything will be better, right? 

We woke up on Thanksgiving Day, both of us cranky and unsure what to be thankful for.  Yes, we are the Bah-humbugs this year.  OF COURSE we have plenty to be thankful for – and we aren’t so cynical and bitter that we can’t find some gratitude.  It is just that we are now on the fourth holiday season without our sons here to share it with us.  We are angry, and mostly sad and heartbroken – not just for us, but for their young and tender hearts.  It is way past time for them to come home.

Yes, so now onto that popular question – WHEN WILL THEY COME HOME?  ANY NEWS?  WHAT’S THE STATUS?  We wish we knew.  We wish it was easy to explain the process.  We don’t even understand it sometimes.  The trouble is that every situation is different, and every stage of the process requires something that sometimes we have to wait even longer on.  Most recently, we’ve been waiting on an ID card for one of our boy’s biological parents.  We couldn’t progress to the next stage until the courts had the proper ID for that parent – and that ID took over a year to obtain.  There is no explanation for this.  In fact, I just renewed my driver's license here in Tennessee a few weeks ago.  It took me 1 hour – not 1 year.  But with every step of this process we learn more and more about the difficulties Haiti faces every day in just doing “normal” business.  That ID finally did come, but now there is a strike, and courts are not open.  So we wait some more. 

Yes, we were under every impression and belief this Christmas would be different – that our boys would be home with us.  But we are hanging lights and trimming the tree just as the year before – with continued sadness but no less hope than before.  And we truly don’t mean to be bah-humbug.  We just want to be honest and authentic about where we are. We are hurting.  But we press on.  We continue hoping. And we knew when we started this journey it would be hard and painful.  While so many people mean well, we don’t need anymore pep talks, bible verses, or fluffy spiritual jargon.  We believe in God, His Son Jesus, and the Holy Spirit.  We know and trust their great power and love through this.  And we don’t ever begin to assume we know better than God and His timing.  We lean on Him every day.  And we also know it’s possible to love and lean on God and still hurt. 

So I drink my tea and listen to Kenny and Dolly sing “I Believe in Santa Claus" one more time.  I hang the ornaments we all made together last Christmas and put them on this sweet little Charlie Brown Christmas tree that proudly sits in our front window.  It somehow screams to the outside, “our boys are coming!  They are coming! They will be here!” We hang their stockings.  We cry.  And we hold each other tight because we have each other to get us through the wait.  And we have the comforting presence of God who also knows very well how it feels to hurt for His children.  

Waiting in the Rain

Some seasons just have a lot of rain.

Literally and figuratively, this summer has rained on me a lot.  I do not like being vulnerable or allowing others to see my “mess,” but the longer and harder it rains, the more I feel prompted to seek shelter in my authenticity and brokenness.

Todd and I just rounded the 3.5 year mark of waiting on our children.  We are thankful for answers, signatures, and milestones that have been completed.  Yet, the sorrow and pain still come in waves.  It’s hard to hold hope and grief at the same time, yet very possible.  I do it every day. It’s exhausting.

I have also been sick - really sick since May.  I have gone to the doctor so many times with no clear answers of what is wrong except maybe “you’re too stressed. What can you do to eliminate stress in your life?”  My answer is, “Can you bring my babies home from Haiti?”  There is no pill I can take for that – not one.  Thankfully I have found a wonderful doctor who has found that along with a broken heart, there is another reason for my ailments, and it’s being treated.  But it’s a LONG hard process of changing my diet, taking supplements, and waiting for my body to rid itself of what it no longer needs.  And this may take another several weeks.  Really?!  More waiting?  What is all this waiting mess about?  Can I just get some relief NOW?  Okay, that was my really impatient part needing to vent.  I feel better now.  But seriously, with every step in this process of bringing our boys home, my body and soul remind me of the toll it takes on them too.  And I must listen.  We all must listen to the messages our bodies have for us.  To slow down.  To wait.  To nurture.  To pray.  To feel.  To trust the process of life. 

On one of my hardest sick days as I prayed and cried, I ran across one verse that led me to explore the verses around it for context.  I looked it up in The Message version.  It’s a long one, but totally worth the time to read.   And I end this post with it, because it really just sums it all up. I am pregnant.  It hurts.  But God is near. 

Romans 8:22-28 MSG
"All around us we observe a pregnant creation. The difficult times of pain throughout the world are simply birth pangs. But it’s not only around us; it’s within us. The Spirit of God is arousing us within. We’re also feeling the birth pangs. These sterile and barren bodies of ours are yearning for full deliverance. That is why waiting does not diminish us, any more than waiting diminishes a pregnant mother. We are enlarged in the waiting. We, of course, don’t see what is enlarging us. But the longer we wait, the larger we become, and the more joyful our expectancy. Meanwhile, the moment we get tired in the waiting, God’s Spirit is right alongside helping us along. If we don’t know how or what to pray, it doesn’t matter. He does our praying in and for us, making prayer out of our wordless sighs, our aching groans. He knows us far better than we know ourselves, knows our pregnant condition, and keeps us present before God. That’s why we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good."

How many kids are here?

This was the question that sent me into tears. I am not angry about the question or the person who asked it.  I am angry my kids aren’t here.  All the kids in the family lined up to hunt Easter eggs.  It was adorable.  I thought contributing $6 to the prize egg would make me feel better. It didn’t.  I thought hiding the eggs would feel better.  It didn’t.  I thought helping a child find an egg would feel better.  It didn’t.  All I could think was “man, I wish my kids were here.“  Three years later that is all I can think about.  And I still believe they will hunt Easter eggs here – along with their super sweet cousins. 

 

But if anything brought a smile, it was this guy - determined to find eggs and ready to wrestle for them.  I find hope - every day I look for hope.  And I have hope our boys will hunt eggs with their  cousins, laugh at their big white family, and get hugs from all these people who love them so much!

"Rejoice in hope. Be patient in tribulation.  Be constant in prayer." (Romans 12:12)

Why do you want to adopt THREE kids?

I was faced with this question again recently.  It wasn’t the first time, and I’m guessing it won’t be the last.  Sadly, it is sometimes asked with doubt or ridicule, but mostly from those with sincere wonder.  When asked, I sort of freeze.  How do I even answer that question?  There is no simple answer that is going to make sense to the questioner.  Half the time it doesn’t make sense to me!  If I say, “God has called us to these kids,” we sometimes get the blank stare or rolled eyes as if we’re in a crazy cult, and I’m about to ask them to come to a worship rally where they will be asked to adopt three kids too. 

The immediate answer is “I don’t know.”  Does a mother having triplets WANT to have triplets?  I know the answer I might get to that – “Well, those are her biological kids.”  But do you really think she put in an order for 3? A woman having triplets will love and care for her children even though she never imagined having three at once.  My adopted children are no less mine than if I birthed them.

And even though my answer is “I don’t know,” here is what I do know….

*I know I met our 3 sons Wilnes, Wendy, and Woody 3 years ago this February. 

*I know when their hearts met mine I was their mama.

*I know I am scared, because parenting will be hard. 

*I know people will question our interracial family. 

*I know people will question our ability to handle this.

*I know we will not have to do this alone. 

*I know I am a good Mom.  I know Todd is a good Dad. 

*I know we love those boys so much that it just flows out my eyes most days.   

*I know we are sad, because there are three people missing from our table. 

*I know that three years of waiting has felt like ten. 

*I know my heart aches to be with them.

*I know Who holds tomorrow. 

We did not seek out to adopt three kids, so we may never have an answer for the question.  But I think what I can now answer is, “It never felt like a choice. Wilnes, Woody, and Wendy are our sons.  That is why we are adopting them.”  I mean, just look at our family picture – it sort of feels like it answers the question on its own. 

And now to the “WHEN?”  Still wishing we had an answer to that.  Even though we have moved to a very important stage of the process, we are now waiting for a signature to move forward again.   If you would like to pray with our family about this, please pray for a certain woman’s heart and hand to be swift in signing our documents for our three children.  Even with that signature it won’t be time for them to come home, but it will move us closer.

A quick update on our Christmas visit – the boys were THRILLED to decorate ornaments and a tree and have their very own stockings.  They rearranged the nativity scene every day, which I thought was pretty insightful since Baby Jesus must have had lots of visitors in and out -probably the way it feels in their creche (where they live is called a creche, which we learned is another word for nativity).  It was the first time for all of us to be together as a family since April 2011.  It felt right.  It felt peaceful.  It felt hopeful.  

Long Distance Parenting

There’s a confusion that sets in – when you have become parents, but not yet “parenting.”  Our children are an ocean away.  We look at their pictures, laugh at the videos, and talk about all the things we’re going to do with them when they’re with us.  We’ve been doing that for 2.5 years.  I have a new found respect for all parents – the ones with their children under their roof, ones with children in other places, or ones who are waiting for children in some way.  There is much confusion about parenting, especially when you have absolutely zero control.  I am guessing this time in our lives is preparing us for the reality that at some point our boys will need to be individuals- facing their own battles, learning their own lessons, making their own decisions.  But at 9 and 13?  Every day I am with them in Haiti, they ask “you leave tomorrow, Mom?”  Every day is a preparation for the most devastating pain of separation.  Each of us psyche ourselves up for the heartache and let down – like when we ask God for that one thing we need really bad, testifying that we’ll stop sinning and cussing if we could just get it NOW (whole-heartedly knowing we won’t get it right away).  That’s where we all are now.  We’re dancing to Michael Jackson songs one minute, singing Dixie Chicks “Godspeed” as we lay our heads down at night, and praying each time that God sees our desperate plea to be together – these boys are Ramey boys. They are Todd and Laura’s boys.

My friends tell me about their biological children and how they exhibit so much of each of them – look like them, act like them, have similar personalilties. Well, our boys don’t look like us, but they are Rameys/Melroses.  Wilnes makes friends with everyone.  He likes to tell people about Jesus.  When he’s sad, he can’t contain it – he’ll find a place away from everyone to get it all out.  And he can’t wait to learn something new. Woody is quiet yet knows exactly when to speak up.  He has the voice of an angel and takes pride in owning his Mama’s Bible.  He sometimes has a slight stutter – his sweet anxious moments are evident of his desire to do something well. Wendy wants to be friends with everyone and be happy all the time.  He wants to dance, sing, eat a lot, put on sunglasses, and laugh. And together, wow, I have never seen brothers be such a team. They work together in such a precious way. They really look out for each other. They are genuinely concerned for each other and their family.

I know we slack on blog posts.  To be honest, we feel discouraged not having any updates – everyone wants to know when they will be home.  We do too.  While we still believe our children will be with us, we are exhausted and frustrated.  We have tried to keep recent posts more about them – so you can get to know them as we do.  However, this post is more about sharing our very desperate and broken hearts.  It may be really more for us than anyone else.  And someday we want our boys to know this part of the story too. 

If you’ve followed our story from the first post, then you know we’ve known our sons for about 2.5 years now and have been in the process of adopting them for almost 2 years.  People keep asking why it’s taking us so long.  It’s complicated to answer, but the short version of the story is we are stuck because of an antiquated law in Haiti that states adoptive parents must be 35 and married 10 years.  We moved forward with our process, first and foremost, because we know these are our sons and are willing to fight for them.  Second, we had knowledge that previous “underage” families made it through the process with Presidential Dispensation as long as they were found fit to adopt.  Third, we were told the law has been on the table to be changed (age 30, married 5 years).  Between those three things the only thing we know for sure is we are still fighting. 

So, what do we do in the meantime? What do we tell our boys? What do we tell people who ask?  We aren’t posting from a place of hopelessness, but more in a place of desperately seeking prayers and support from people who love our children and want them home as much as we do.  We still BELIEVE.  We know the timing will be right, but we also get so tired of hearing that – “It’s all in God’s timing.” We know that.  Yes, we trust God’s timing and His care for them while we wait.  At the same time, we hurt.  We are sad.  We are grieving for our children.  And it dawned on me recently, that’s what God knows most about.  Not only did he sacrifice His son, but he watches all of His children struggle and hurt daily.  He is not physically with us, but He is always present.  I really can trust that He knows our hurting parent hearts.  He knows our boys’ hurting hearts.  He knows all the reasons why we are stuck.   He knows the time when we will be in joyful celebration of bringing our sons home.  So, we put our hope in that.  We keep believing.  We keep going to visit them and reminding them they are our precious sons, but most importantly, they are God’s children.  And so are we.   He does not leave any of us as orphans. 

I am attaching a link to a friend’s blog here.  Their family is in the same situation (under 35) and adopting from the same orphanage as our boys.  She was recently asked, “so when will you give up?”  Her response is beautiful, so I wanted to share it here in case any of you have wondered this about the Rameys.  We share her heart on this.  There will be no giving up.  

A beautiful start to 2012

“Manman, ou bel!”  I lit up every time one of my sweet boys said this to me.  In Creole, this means, “Momma, you are beautiful!”  I was spoiled by their sweetness and totally immersed in their smiles and laughter for 5 straight days – what a gift.  The only bad part was that Todd couldn’t be with us.  In fact, the second thing Wilnes said to me after I arrived was “Where is my Daddy?”  (the first was, “Hello, Momma”).  So, yes, Wilnes now speaks a lot of English!  I am just so proud of him.  I am excited to send updates on the boys and my last visit...

Wilnes – what a sweet and grown up young man!  He never ceases to melt my heart.  He is so tender and kind to his little brothers and the other children at the orphanage.  He serves as the translator for all of us, which I think he enjoys – like he’s the conduit for everyone.  I had so many special moments with him watching him be this gentle yet brave boy.   I can still hear him shouting out in excitement when he wanted me to come see something – “MOM!” Not mommy or momma, but MOM!  Such a teenager, and I love it.  Because he can now speak English, I was very intentional about explaining the “wait” and the “process” to him – assuring him we very much want to bring him home with us but that we have to wait for certain things to happen – and he would nod with understanding as I explained, yet still have tears filling up in his eyes – to which I would validate and say, “yes, mom gets sad too, and that’s okay. But we can have hope, and that’s what I hang onto.”  I wrote in all their journals before I left  - Romans 12:12 “Rejoice in hope.  Be patient in tribulation.  Be constant in prayer.” 

Woody – He has really opened up!  My usually shy and quiet kid – he was super talkative – even sharing some of the English he had learned like, “Thank you so much – I love you!”  And apparently he likes to sing and dance too – what a sweet voice!  He loves to sing “Yes, Lord.”  He told me he wants to be an aviator when he grows up.  He was super excited when I told him his PaPa (my Daddy) is a pilot!  He had airplanes on his favorite pair of pajama pants he wore every night.   On the day I was leaving he said in Creole (Wilnes translated), “Momma, I don’t want to go to school today. I want to stay with you.”  Ah – broke my heart!

Wendy – As creative and playful as ever, I was woken up each morning around 5:30am to his whispered request, “Momma, music?”  To which I would reply, “Momma dome (sleep).”   He wants music playing 24/7, and he’s quite particular about it – if I chose something with not quite enough groove, he would hold his hand up, close his eyes, and shake his head “no.”  And if I chose a song that was just right, his eyes would light up and those hips would start shaking.   Never-ending entertainment I tell ya.  One time he was going on and on about something in Creole, and Ms. Claudette (Dr. B’s wife) said, “oh, do you know what he say?  He say ‘momma, if you let me go swimming, God will bless you!’”  yep, he’s going to be THAT son. 

As far as the “process” – yes, we know, the question everyone wants answered is “When do they come home?”  We want that question answered more than anyone.  Unfortunately we do not have any further news, but we do know a very important age requirement law (lowering the age of adoptive parents) is close to being passed that will hopefully move us along.   We will most certainly send an update as things progress.   We just keep hoping and believing and welcome your prayers for our sweet family.  Todd will go for a visit in April (dates not determined yet), so there will be more fun memories and pics to share then! 

Get to know the boys

Wilnes

He is the oldest of our sons.  He is 12 and will be 13 on Jan 29.  He is so smart and wants to keep learning things.  When Laura observed him in school he was on the front row of the class and writing things in his notebook fervently.  When we are together he draws pictures and does math problems.  He also likes to take the Iphone and play with apps or listen to music.  He chose to listen to Coldplay (smart kid). He is so quiet and sweet.  He keeps his brothers in line, and we hear that he is also very nurturing of the babies and younger children in the orphanage.  His favorite color is blue, and he likes to play soccer, basketball, and dominoes.

Woody

 He is one of our twins.  He is 8 and will be 9 on Jan 8.  These twins could not be more opposite! Woody is rarely in pictures, or when he is, it is much like what you see here - in action!  He is quiet like big bro Wilnes, but in a shy way.  He keeps to himself but laughs a lot, especially at his twin brother.  He would often choose country music on the Iphone - we found him digging Gary Allan and Alan Jackson.  His favorite color is green, and he likes to play football and dominoes and sing "Waka Waka (this time for Africa)" by Shakira.

Wendy

The other of our twins, he is 8 and will be 9 on Jan 8.  He LOVES to be in pictures, unlike bro.  If there is a camera, he's in front of it.  He is a dancing machine, and if you check out a previous post, you'll find him dancing to Kings of Leon.  He is not into sports like his brothers, but he does dig a good game of dominoes like they do.  He laughs a lot and makes others a laugh a lot.  He's got a crazy good hug.  His favorite color is red, and his favorite thing is smiling.








Photos courtesy of our friends at Carpe Diem Photo Video

Waiting

We know it's been a long time since our last post.  The truth is, we keep hoping we'll have an update to share before posting again.  The big question we always get - "so when do you get your boys?"  We wish we had an answer to that.  We are in a season of waiting, and until now, I thought "waiting" was a passive experience.  I kept looking for something to "do" to make this go faster or to not be sitting still.  However, I am learning that waiting is more active than I ever imagined.  Waiting requires prayer, faith, grieving, trust, preparing a home, adjusting a budget to include 3 more people, and so many more things.  Waiting is not easy.  I started reading a book called "When the Heart Waits" by Sue Monk Kidd, and it's providing me many gentle reminders about the process of cocooning...and the beautiful timing of the "birth" of the new. 


In the meantime, we continue to get monthly email updates on the boys' weight and height, along with a picture - most recent one above.  We finally learned their birthdays too! 

Wilnes - Jan 29, 1999
Woody and Wendy - Jan 8, 2003

Some cool things about these dates - we started dating on Jan 29, 2003 - the day of Wilnes' bday and the year the twins were born.  It is so crazy when I think about where we were in that time of our lives and how God already had a very special 4 yr old and newborn baby boys that would be ours! Jan 29 is also Todd's grandparents', Art and MaryBeth Garwood, wedding anniversary.  It has certainly become a day in our family to celebrate love!

So, that's where we are for now.  We are grateful for your prayers in this waiting process of becoming mommy and daddy to these incredibly special young men.

Peak into Parenthood

It’s been a week since our children ran into our arms on the side of the street in Port-au-Prince.  We had not seen them in so long, and this trip was particularly important, because they were being transferred into the care of our lawyer and his orphanage.  All our paperwork is turned in, our children are in their “new” temporary orphanage, and now we all wait to be reunited once the IBESR in Haiti approves us to be their parents.  We are told this could take up to 2 years.  It could be, and we obviously pray for, less than 2 years.  Our hearts are heavy and long to be with them.  The 1.5 days we got to spend with them on this last trip was worth every tear that was shed by all of us upon departure.

We made so many wonderful memories, and we were also given insight and small bits of preparation for being parents to three boys.  This first lesson came within 30 minutes of having the boys with us when Wendy, the second born of the twins, announced, “Laura, pee pee.”  So, we asked our driver to pull over while all 3 boys hopped out, with Papa Blanc (Todd) supervising, and took to their business on the side of a busy Haitian street.  

More precious and funny memories…

-They can eat – A LOT.  The twins got thirds, sometimes fourths, when we sat down to each meal.  Wilnes is content with one plate, but we get the feeling he could and would eat more, but he makes sure others get enough.  We would give them candy or snacks throughout the day, which they would eat immediately or hide some place where they could enjoy it later.  Todd found a packet of sweet tarts in his shoe. 

-We were all giddy at bedtime.  It was our first time to all stay in one room together as a family.  Conveniently, there was a double bed and 3 twin beds in our room.  We read in the Bible (Jeremiah 29:11) and said a prayer before bedtime.  Wilnes said the most beautiful prayer in Creole.  We are not sure what all he said, but it was long and passionately spoken like his Mama Blanc (Laura).  They all slept with the monkeys we gave them (manca in Creole) and the covers over their heads – so cute.  Wendy got up in the middle of the night 3 times to say, “Laura, pee pee.”  I think it’s the only English he knows. 

-We are surprised at how self-sufficient they really are.  They immediately knew to brush their teeth when they woke up in the morning.  And watching them line up at the sink together was adorable. They had toothpaste dripping down their shirts and were so excited to have clean teeth.

-When we asked them if they wanted to take a shower, they got very excited.  I think this only happens a few times a week at their prior orphanage, so they were eager to be clean and use a “real shower.”  Todd supervised and said it was the cutest thing to watch their system.  Wilnes started with the washcloth and washed his front side.  Then, he handed the cloth off to Woody who cleaned Wilnes’ back then his own front.  Then, he handed it off to Wendy who followed suit.  True brothers helping each other out and literally “having each other’s backs.”

-Most of our daytime was spent playing basketball, soccer, dominoes, listening to music, dancing, and singing.  They also each took countless photos of just about anything around them.  They got a kick out of taking our iPhones and picking out music.  An attached video below shows Wendy especially enjoying this.  Their personalities are so different, yet each so special.  Wilnes is very curious and wants to learn everything he can.  He figured out how to open the Byki app on my iPhone and started teaching himself English.  He is very responsible and a good caretaker of his little brothers.  Woody does not talk much and would have a ball in his hands at all times – football, basketball, soccer ball, whatever.  If it kicked, threw, or bounced he had it.  He laughs a lot at his twin brother.  Wendy is a clown and never stops performing (again, see the attached video).   He is always smiling or laughing.  We can already see the “scholar, athlete, performer” roles emerging in them.

One of the most precious and tangible memories we have is a picture Wilnes drew.  As a counselor and having worked with children, I understand the power of what children draw.  Without any direction from us, Wilnes took my notebook and drew a picture of a house with all of us inside.  We were a family.  We look at his drawing often and pray for this time to come very soon.

While it was extremely hard to say goodbye again, we feel much peace about where they are in the meantime.  We became friends with Dr. Bernard’s daughters, Argentine and Stephanie, who also served as our Sweet Sleep team translators on this trip.  They have already emailed us to let us know they sit and visit with our boys often.  They write, “your boys miss you and say they love you soooooo much.”  What a blessing to know these sweet young women are a loving presence for our boys while we cannot be.  Please continue to pray along with us that Wilnes’ drawing will come true soon.  Thank you for supporting our family.

The First Trimester

Hey friends, Laura here.  I'll just get right to it...

I've never been pregnant.  I have no clue what it might be like.  I have friends who tell me what it's like, so I have some indication that even an adoption journey is like being pregant.  There's a few differences that no one warned me about...especially when you've already met your children.   My very dear friend Jenny Black recently told me, "You have held your babies.  And today your arms are empty.  They are not gone forever. But they are gone from you today.  How would I feel in that same situation? Heartbroken, lonely, aching for my little ones."  That's exactly it.  I have met and held my children. And now I wait for them to be here with us.

On this day 34 years ago, March 4, 1977, my parents gave birth to my older sister, Amy Michelle Melrose.  They gave her back to Jesus soon after.  I have no idea what that must have felt like.  I have heard my Mom talk about that day and how she had never felt so sad, yet so close to Jesus as He came to hold her after she lost her daughter.  She shared how she felt His physical presence with her and an indescribable peace.  God knows exactly what it feels like to grieve for your children in whatever circumstance.  

Today, 34 years after the birth of Amy,  I was rushing around downtown Nashville trying to get notary certifications and "authentications of certifications" for our adoption paperwork.   Basically, you get signatures that say the previous signatures are valid.  I am usually angry and irritated in those types of circumstances. I fought for parking, walked a million blocks, showed my ID more times than being in an airport, and had unwelcomed contact with disgruntled state workers.  Today was different.   I happily ran from building to building gathering the official documentation that would bring my children home.  It was exhausting, yet precious and extremely peaceful.  I appreciate my mother more today than ever.

So, it's all here - all the documents with signatures of signatures verifying we are able to adopt.   Now it all just has to be translated into French.  Ha! No kidding.  Off to the second trimester...

Brunch fundraiser update

Laura here.  I've always heard the saying "It takes a village," and never really understood it until yesterday.  I am not good at asking for help. I like to think I can do things myself or just find a way to get it done without having to "bother" anyone.  As God works on me in this adoption process and continually reminds me I can't do it alone, I am learning more about the power of community and reaching out for help.  It's not about bothering anyone.  It's about inviting others to be part of the calling.  And it truly does "take a village."

We had over 40 volunteers with us at our brunch yesterday (pictured below).  They worked hard from 9:30am-2:30pm to be paid in chicken casserole and a t-shirt.  They did this because they love us, because they love our boys, because they care about orphans.   

We are humbled and blessed to report raising a total of $9,283 at our brunch!  Thanks to all of you who served, stopped by to eat, and prayed for these efforts!  After this fundraiser and previous gifts, we are just a little over half way to our needed funds to bring our sons home. 

T-shirts are still available and can be purchased through the link on the right of the blog.  We also have a few other fundraisers in the works and will post more details as they are available. 

Believe!