Three Years!

This month marks three years since I founded Hime For Help.  For the past three years, I have been a penniless vagabond with holes in my traveling shoes. I didn't start a Not for Profit to save money or to build my career, and I definitely didn't start it to start a Children's Home in Haiti. I blindly jumped into this opportunity with $500 in my pocket and the hopes of exploring the world outside of Chatham-Kent's suburbs. I wanted to meet new people, I wanted to help those people, I wanted to do all that I possibly could to make some kind of difference and to try to impact at least one life.  I also wanted to travel, to try new foods, and get completely lost in unfamiliar situations. So I guess that’s how throughout the past 3 years I came to find myself sitting on picturesque Haitian Mountains, walking along typhoon torn roads in the Phillippines, cuddling my gorgeous children who have now become the biggest part of my life, and living a life full of chaos and uncertainty. This life of mine has turned into something rather extraordinary, and although I am cautiously yet swiftly sifting through my savings and exhausting myself with radical adventures, I love it.  I wouldn't change it for the world.  

The majority of these three years have been spent without a proper Tim Hortons, without a haircut, a warm shower, a hug from my parents. Three years without air conditioning and a microwave, without a flushing toilet, without spirited greetings from my dogs, without snow and fresh salads. But it has also been three years filled with an immense amount of love.  Three years of finding myself.  Three years of learning about our world and meeting people who have suffered such great loss yet still retain such hope and faith.  Three years without a yearning to overachieve, and without the invisible pressure to look fabulous 24/7. For the past three years I have indulged in fresh pineapple, mango, and coconut on a daily basis, and have never once felt insecure about the makeup-less face that I present to the world every morning. This past year has been filled with indescribable challenges that have pushed my being to the brink of insanity, and ultimately led me to a state of complete satisfaction with life. Some people search their entire lives for something to provide them with that feeling, and to have found it already at the age of 22 is perhaps my greatest achievement thus far.

In truth, though, it doesn't feel like an entire three years have passed. I have been so preoccupied with keeping myself hydrated and learning to communicate without unknowingly offending Haitian culture that the daily change of date happens without much notice. People here don’t live by the minute hand like Canadians/Americans, so in experimenting with my ability to fully integrate, I too find myself working by the sun and the rain. Time is just a four-letter word, and I have discovered that conducting a lifestyle based on everything but the clock makes the days progress rapidly.  And in between those long timeless afternoons playing soccer with my boys, cuddling my baby girls, and playing dominoes in the streets with old men, I have gained a greater education than I ever received as a stressed out student. Instead of simply reading about worldly topics and current events, I have lived it. I have experienced the high fever of Malaria and painstakingly washed my laundry by hand with well water. I have (kind of successfully) soothed the screams of a laboring woman as she gave birth to her premature son without medication. I have smelled the heavenly scent of fresh organic food cooking in the streets and seen the backbreaking process that keeps the families that provide these foods alive.  

Coming back to Haiti is always hard.  The discipline I had instilled in the children has disappeared and I have to reteach them all over again.  I have to retrain staff- which is not an easy process especially since they tend to be so stubborn.  The house was a disaster.  Many things were broken and lost.  These past three weeks have consisted of a lot of frustration.. and a lot of yelling... but also a lot of cuddling and soaking up every lost minute with my babies.  Putting them to bed still remains my favourite part of the day, rocking them to sleep and hearing "Mama I love you" is such an unfathomable feeling that nothing could ever compare to.  We were able to finish rebuilding our chicken coop today which is bigger and better than I ever could have imagined, thanks to Val! And our boys named our chickens today.. we have Justin Bieber (the rooster), Celien Dion, Daphka, Dezod (which means bad in Haiti), Bella, and Laura.  The kids were so excited and so proud of themselves for finding the courage to go inside the pen with them and pet them.  It has been a long few weeks, but I am over the moon to be back "home". 

I am sitting here writing this blog with bugs chirping in the background and my boyfriend sitting next to me... A boyfriend? Living together in Haiti? This is something I never would have imagined three years ago.  I never thought that I would find someone who would be so accepting of my crazy life and who would love and care for 17 children that were not his own.. I had become content with lonliness.. I could never expect someone to accept this life of mine or want to live with me in Haiti.. but then I met Ryan and everything changed.  He has also now become a huge part of my life and I am so grateful for him.  

Three years ago I never could have imagined being where we are today.  What started out to be a small website hooked up to a paypal account for family and friends to donate towards organizations I had worked with or met during my volunteer months in Haiti, has now morphed into something so much bigger.  It has morphed into my entire life.  We still struggle, living off donation to donation, but three years ago.. I never thought we could start a Children's home.. that we could rent a big enough house to do so... that we could provide for these kids... that we could sustain ourselves.  Yet here we are today, its still so hard for me to notice our achievements sometimes because it always feels as if there is so much more I want to be doing for our kids or so many more people I want to be helping.  But in this moment, I look back with tear filled eyes and feel a sense of pride.. not even for myself.. but for my kids who never lost hope in me, who still loved me just as much when I became frustrated or unmotivated, for my staff for putting up with my moments of anger and who continue to love these kids as if they were their own, for all of my supporters.. because I honestly could not be here without you.  You have made the impossible quite possible and I am forever grateful for you.  Thank you to all of you who have motivated me when I needed it most, who loved me when I was unlovable, who continued to believe in me during those moments that I gave up hope.  We are so grateful for you. 

Life is still crazy as ever and I know we are going to have many more bumps in the road, but I also know that we will make it through.  We always do! 

Glimpse into the past three years:

Coming Home

The fact that my last blog was posted a few months ago doesn’t exactly mean my days have been passing in complete boredom and with little inspiration. Actually, since the end of October, my life has been moving at warp speed and I haven’t had the time to sit down and throw my experiences into a blog summary. When I first landed in Haiti, every single passing moment was vigorously written down in an attempt to absorb my out of control thoughts. I wanted a permanent documentation of the obscure smells and clamorous sounds, the unusual tastes and vibrant sights and those moments that absolutely captured my heart.  And I wanted to share my experiences with you through engaging and graphic compositions.

However my view on this entire process has been slowly changing. I have turned a corner, and I’m slowly beginning to lose my identity as an outsider looking in. The day-to-day escapades that once blew my mind and made me fall asleep each night in a rush of exhaustion are now quite commonplace. Haitian mishaps used to inspire hours of writing with simultaneous giggling at the chaos of my life and its stories that simply couldn’t be made up. Those mishaps are still a dime a dozen, and believe me, I still shake my head at my situation a lot, but I no longer feel the urge to splatter it onto a blog post right away. Couple that with recent travel, reunions, falling in love, work, school and, well, my slight need to procrastinate every now and then took over.

Now, what happened next in the chronological order of the past few months was perhaps one of the most glorious experiences of my life. At the end of October, I stepped onto a plane and left Haiti, however, I knew I would be back soon.  When I returned home I ended up landing a job at Choices Child and Adolescent Center which is a home for young male sex offenders.  Many questioned why I would choose this job and why I was so passionate about it, and at times I questioned that myself, but I quickly learned that these boys are humans too- that we all have stories and backgrounds- and unfortunately their's weren't merely fairy-tales.  I got to know these boys.  I got the privilege to spend time with each one of them and do day to day tasks.  We laughed and danced, played basketball, did laundry, cooked dinner, and ate together like a family.  Most of these boys grew up in difficult situations and were taught behaviors that were inappropriate, where others had mental illnesses.  I loved working with these boys.  They taught me so much and made me laugh.  It was a hard decision leaving a job that I absolutely loved, however, my kids always come first and the longing for them and the ache of missing them has not been subsiding.. I knew it was time to return home.  Although I will miss my family and friends terribly.. I know it's what I have to do.  My emotions feel wobbly even as I write this, for just recalling the insurmountable joy of being surrounded by the people whom I’ve been missing so much over these past few months.  I am beyond excited to be reunited with all of them.  

The kids are non-stop growing.  I can’t believe how much taller they have gotten.  They are all still just as amazing as they have always been.  Jenny is now 16 and absolutely loving dance class.  Don fell and busted up his arm the other day.  Tyson is a walking, talking, trouble machine.  The twins (who were not supposed to live and I was advised not to take them into my home since they would die) are now almost 4 years old and just full of personality and spunk- they are quite the pair.  Emilio is massive, he has become such a beautiful little boy.  Shellson has gained weight and is the happiest child out there.  Lunda still likes to play “mommy” and she is quite the comedian.  Lillian is continuously growing as well (so is her hair finally) and loves to sing and dance.  Sabrina, well she’s no longer pooping on the floor and smearing it on our walls- so that’s always good! Sabrina is quiet but so intelligent.  She is picking up on English no problem! Norens is still excelling in school and making music out of whatever he can find.  Wendel- wow! I’ve noticed the biggest changes in him.  Wendel arrived at our door wearing nothing on his back or on his feet.  He was severely abused and neglected.  He remained quite and often cried after he joined our home.  Today, he is our little (not so little) jokester and so loving and affectionate.  He is a great big brother to all our little ones.  He passed his first year of school this year and he has grown so tall.  I am beyond proud of that boy.  Don, he’s still as crazy as ever.  He loves pretending he’s a ninja and pulling tricks on me.  He recently tripped playing soccer and busted up his arm, but he’s one tough boy.  Wilgo.  Wilgo is stubborn like most men at times; however, he is the most kind-hearted boy and is a great role model for our little ones.  Tyson calls him Dad and those two are just inseparable.  We also have a new little baby named “Dwanesky” I cannot wait to hold him and smother him with kisses. 

I have had a lot of different responses when I tell people that I am moving back to Haiti. Most can't quite understand it or wrap their heads around why I would want to "settle down" there. The things we see and deal with on a daily basis while living in one of the poorest regions of the poorest country of the Western Hemisphere, are extremely difficult and even heart wrenching and tragic. There are many moments when the reality of the harshness of life here smacks me upside the head like a ton of bricks and all I can do is cry. But more often than not, there are so many moments when I have the incredible privilege of witnessing pure triumphs. Triumphs over the plague of malnutrition. Triumphs of reuniting a child with their parent.  Triumph of teaching someone who is illiterate to read and write. Triumph over the spirit of despair and desolation. Triumph in witnessing an individual gain a sense of self and take ownership in his/her trade or craft. Triumph in seeing pure strength, bravery, and survival. There are brutal realities that come with living in Haiti. Yet, despite how difficult these issues may be to face, they are the truth and we must see them, we mustn't close our eyes . And sometimes - through the pain and the struggles, the most incredible beauty shines forth. This is my reality, this is my destiny, this if my life.

Recent blog post from my friend Rhyan that hits home for me: 
"People tell me they could never… They could never move to Haiti. They could never live without water or electricity or ice blended lattes… The thing about people saying those things is that it implies that the life I am living is a choice. It’s not. Once your purpose grabs ahold of your heart, the idea of choice kind of flies out the window. I have no choice over living in Haiti because I was created to be alive when I am here, I was created to be alive in the place where my purpose lies. Yes, I could probably try to run away from the things that God asks me to do that are hard but I wouldn’t get far and I wouldn’t last long. I’ve tasted the sweetness that mixes with the tears that stream down my cheeks as I hold the slowly cooling body of a child that I loved… I’ve tasted the sweetness mingled with the sweat of trying to fall asleep in the stifling heat, under a mosquito net. I’ve tasted the sweetness of living fully in His passion and His calling. I’ve tasted the sweetness that comes with the hard and painful and it’s something that I would never know or crave if I didn’t experience the raw, realness of disappointment, passion and sacrifice."

Leading up to this sentimental reunion, I spent the morning gliding through the Miami airport on a high… tiled floors, clean bathrooms with toilet seats AND toilet paper, air conditioning- things I realize that I am going to likely miss soon enough.  I never thought standing in the tedious line of customs could bring me such happiness! And now, as I sit here to type up this fashionably late blog, my suitcases are next to me packed up full of my life’s finest belongings...once again. Bring on the sleepless nights, dirty diapers, the "I love you more mama" at bed time... I am missing it all.  Today I will fly out to Haiti for my official move.  I know, what a strange life I am living…but life is all about adventure is it not? 
So that about wraps it up for now!  Thank you for all of your ongoing love and support and for following me on this journey.  Until next time!

If you wish to sponsor a child or a project or donate to our Children's Home please visit www.himeforhelp.org

New Year; New beginnings.

With the new year, comes new beginnings, and we all know that new beginnings can be scary; but this new beginning I am totally over the moon excited for. I am once again packing my entire existence into a few suitcases and making the big move to Haiti. Why you ask?

Because during my time away and trying to finish my University degree, I realized that I think about Haiti every minute of every day. It consumes me. It is where my heart lies and my fondest memories live. Haiti is where I found myself as a young woman and where I decided to say goodbye to my life full of the finer things, and start a new one far from everything I had ever known and loved. That experience taught me a way to see the world, and to understand how the world sees Haiti.

Because I love my life in Haiti and I love my children. My days are filled with endless obstacles and frustrations that seem impossible to overcome, but ultimately bring peace to my mind. Yes, I have changed thousands of dirty diapers, wiped away thousands of teary eyes, and spent many days covered in baby food and vomit. I have chewed out moto drivers for being disgustingly rude to me, bartered in markets, and grabbed children harshly by the arm for physically fighting each other in the street. But I have also kissed hundreds of beautiful babies, crossed paths with the most inspirational people, and taught teenagers and adults who were completely illiterate to read and write. I have seen pain and suffering, but I have also witnessed beauty and faith.

Because I miss spending each and every moment with the kids that have so profoundly impacted my life. Tyson is struggling with speech delay and I know that he needs some serious one on one time to help him improve. My 16 year old, Jenny, is longing for guidance and to have that "mother" role filled in her most crucial years. Emilio is starting to roll over and loves to walk holding your hands, and I don't want to miss his very first steps. I don't want to miss first days of school, graduations, birthdays, dance recitals, or just the every day events that make me giggle. I don't want to miss any of it.

My departure date will be at the beginning of February. I have exactly one month to get all of my affairs in order, move out of my place here in Canada, sell my belongings, and figure out how to get the essentials to Haiti. I am anxious to see what the future holds. I feel contentment in my heart knowing that this is what I want; that this year of sorrow and grief from missing my life in Haiti is over. I am glad that I came home for a break (it was needed) and I am proud that I finished another year of school, but I am even happier knowing that I am returning to the place that I call "home". I am prepared for the unknown, prepared for the struggles, I am prepared for the days filled with chaos and returning to the country that is currently in a political meltdown; and I am most of all prepared to spend my time with the people that have stolen my heart.

This year has been a fantastic year of growth. Not only did Hime For Help grow by welcoming new board members, but our home in Haiti also grew by welcoming new little ones and new staff members.
We have been able to help more families this year than ever. We have been able to purchase our very first vehicle. Our kids are now enrolled in a very pristine dance school where they are learning so much more than just "dance". We have been able to meet all of our children's needs and beyond. And we could not have been able to do that without the help of our wonderful sponsors and fundraisers. You guys are the ones that make this happen!

Going into 2015 we have many more goals for growth. We have many more needs that need to be met. We are looking forward to the new volunteers that will be joining us and to the new board members that we will be welcoming. I see great things happening in 2015, I feel that it is going to be the year for accomplishments!!

I just returned home from Haiti and spent a wonderful Christmas with my children. They were so spoiled this year but it was great to see their big smiles. Thank you to all of those who donated toys or sent money towards the purchase of gifts. Also a big thank you to those that purchased items off of our online gift catalogue, it is a huge help! I hope you all had a Merry Christmas & I hope you have an even better New Year!!

Going into the new year I have many resolutions, I've tried to sum it up as best as possible:

Live this life moment by moment without fixating on the unchangeable past or the non-existent future. Seek adventure and seek meaning. Taste the unusual food, smell the foreign aromas. Feel the dirt in between my toes, and bask in the glory that dirty feet are testimony to my grassroots existence in Haiti. Laugh with the children, and cuddle the babies. Listen to the complaints of my community, not just with my ears but also with my mind and my heart; I am a ray of hope even if I can only offer hugs. Have patience and let go of negative feelings. Read every book imaginable. Enjoy the very few moments of free time that I am graciously granted, and savour those blank hours as a time to reflect and simply breathe. Teach and learn simultaneously; I have much to offer Haiti, but even that much more to absorb. Leave the imprints of my running shoes along the mountainous roads and accept change as it comes. Do not allow anything to taint goals or desires. Always dream big. Relish the ability to be uniquely me, in a world untouched by societal pressures. Laugh always. Soak up each day, each minute, and each second, because I will one day find myself reflecting on these days as a hazy memory. And when I am an old woman with silver hair and deep-rooted wrinkles filled with knowledge and experience, I will look back and say, damn, that was the best time of my life.

And Sometimes There's Heartache...

Travel. It’s such an exotic term that exerts thoughts of wanderlust and adventure. It’s a word that creates images of young people taking off on their own and finding their place in the world; while backpacking through Europe or snorkeling with exotic fish in Australia. Travel creates glorious memories to be cherished as “the best time of our lives”, like posing with the statue of liberty or the Eiffel tower, right? Well, allow me to respectfully burn these images from your mind as I introduce you to the world of travel in a developing country. It is a whole new ball game, and you won’t survive without a few bruises and tears.

My last few years have been filled with life-altering challenges and extreme soul searching, but I have come to the conclusion that every twist and turn in life has lead me to where I am today and I am now standing right where I am meant to be. I am not off saving the world, and I am not some glamorous hero who will eradicate world hunger or poverty. But my presence in Haiti has given happiness if not hope to a few nameless children that have crossed my path, and possibly to a few special people who I will always hold dear to my heart.

My eyes have recently been opened by the heartbreaking case of a little girl that I had the blessing to help. Nassa was 11 months old when she came to me, she weighed 7 pounds and was very ill. The sight of her made my stomach churn. How could a child get to this point? How could anyone that saw this little baby girl not step up? Not do something ? Since birth she has been suffering from HIV which had progressed quickly and then she contracted TB. Her chances of making it were slim from the get go. When I rushed her to the hospital in August, Doctors told me she would not make it through the night. They removed her oxygen mask as well as her feeding tube. They had given up hope. Little did they know that I would stay by her bedside forcing her to drink water from the cap of my water bottle and forcing her to eat whenever she had the strength to do so. I prayed like crazy hoping that this little girl would make it, and if she didn't, then I prayed that she would least know that someone was by her side. Nassa's mother was also very ill. The family could not afford medications or transportation to and from the hospital, they could barely afford to feed themselves.

Despite her unfortunate circumstances, she didn't stop fighting. After spending over a month in the hospital, she was discharged. In October I went to visit her and her family. She looked amazing. She had gained weight and regained her strength. Finally that little girl could laugh and play around like any other baby. She sat there grabbing at my face and giggling and twirling her little fingers through my hair… It was easy to forget that her quality of life was extremely limited, especially in the poverty in which she lived. That is why it came as a shock when I received the message on Sunday.

Since I had returned home the mother became more ill and was less capable of caring for her children. The family stopped the treatment for the mother and also for Nassa. The mother passed away last week and I was notified as I was walking in to write an exam, it crushed me. But the news I received this Sunday crushed me even more.

I am angry, and I am confused. I am angry knowing the family stopped her treatment, but I’m even angrier with myself for leaving; because I know that if I had stayed in Haiti she would have received the treatment. I'm angry with the medical system. I am angry with the government for not doing more for their people. I am angry that there is so much poverty in this world while there are others that indulge in anything that they possibly can. When doctors should have been doing everything in their power to help baby Nassa, they were doing nothing, they gave up hope. I witnessed her case become the joke for hospital gossip, a true interest piece for doctors wishing to discuss the curiosity surrounding why a white woman cared so much about a baby with AIDS. They were disgusted that I wanted to hold her and that I was determined that she would live. And apart from their obvious fascination with this, they simply shuffled their feet and acted as if time was purely suspended above us. I wish there was more sympathy from Haitians for the suffering of their people, and I wish there was a different outcome for that little girl. Because Nassa died on Sunday, November 9th and today...I paid for her funeral- something I had never imagined happening.

Getting that news literally tore my heart to pieces. I loved that baby girl and although she didn’t have much time on this earth, she impacted my life in such profound ways. This is the part of "traveling" that makes it so hard. You stop wanting to learn names, you stop wanting to reach out to those that are suffering, because you know that you may lose them. You know that it will cut deep. And you know that with each loss, you also lose a part of yourself.

Some things happen in life that make us wonder how we will wake up the next day. How will we ever laugh again, or enjoy the company of others, or care for another child or for another person that is suffering, .... or smile. A mother lost her child. A brother lost his sister. A littler girl lost her life, and we may never know why or how it came to this. But when these days fall upon our shoulders, it is important to remember that without heartache we wouldn’t appreciate all the beauty this world has to offer. Haiti has given me the chance to experience life through the eyes of those who suffer, and because of this I now find myself more appreciative, more humble, and more content than I ever did back here in North America.

My heart is at ease knowing she is not suffering, but it’s breaking knowing that she didn’t have the opportunity to fulfill her life. She deserved that chance. Every child does. Even though I am hurting, I feel an urgency in my life to do more, fight on behalf of more, rescue more, love more, and give up more. I'm determined to keep turning my tears into action. I am determined not to turn my head at the suffering. No child should have to die from an illness that is manageable. No child should have to die from malnutrition. There should be access to medical care for those who cannot afford it. My only prayer is that more people stand up and fight for those that are struggling. Fight for those that are voiceless, because they deserve a chance. They deserve to live.

Endings and Beginnings...

As I sit hear strumming my guitar I am accompanied by the echo of a church choir in the distance and Emilio singing to his own tune from his little crib. Tyson is jumping on my bed behind me trying to make a moustache on my face with my hair and laughing hysterically. Shellson and Norens are playing on their new bikes and racing each other around my room. The twins are holding hands and dancing to the music. I can't help but smile as I watch them go about their business. It's these little moments that bring my heart so much joy. It's these little moments that make all of the frustrations and heartache of Haiti worthwhile. It is these little moments that make saying goodbye (once again) so damn hard.

Tomorrow morning I will have to board yet another plane. I will have to convince my feet to take that first step into the terminal and convince my body to remain seated as they shut the airplane door. I keep telling myself "Emily you have to do it!!! Only few more months of school and you will be back in Haiti for good" .. but even that doesn't ease the hurt of knowing that for the next few months, I will have to miss out on these little moments. As I board the plane tomorrow my future will remain waiting for me in Haiti, and I cannot wait for the new year to begin. The anxieties of the past have left my mind, and the worries of what’s to come are nonexistent. This is home.

This week I bought my first car in Haiti (I know, scary thought). And it is the best investment I have ever made. It's like a huge weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. No more relying on anyone else, no more arguing with drivers and negotiating for pay, no more feeling "stuck".. this is FREEDOM !!!! Today as I was driving the kids to my friend Jason's house where we go swimming, I thought to myself... two years ago I could have never imagined I'd be here. I could never imagined us living in a beautiful home, driving around in my OWN car, and taking my babies to the pool. I have never felt more proud and more like a family (especially having the "talk" with my boys today.. help me Lord). We are beginning to become less dysfunctional as each day passes (well.. kind of). Spending this week with my kids there is no doubt in my mind that things will only continue to improve for us. From living in a small house with no furniture, running water, electricity, fridge, stove, working toilet, etc to where we are now .. it is really incredible and I am so grateful for each and every person who has assisted us a long the way. Every time I think of how far we've come tears form in the corners of my eyes. No one will ever understand how truly blessed I feel for the amazing people in my life who believed in me and continue to believe in me today. You have given me the greatest gift I could ever ask for.

Patience and appreciation are two of the greatest lessons I have learned since arriving to Haiti. People wonder how I deal with it, how I cope, and for awhile I struggled with dealing with the stressors and chaos and many times I came the point of nearly being completely burnt out. But I realized that the only way to survive here is to ease your mind. Let go of the stressors and just believe that everything will work out exactly how it is supposed to. Anger and frustration only creates negative feelings and tension and negative feelings only bring about negative actions and events. I have realized that to fully be engrossed in the lifestyle of my existence and the only way to find satisfaction and inner peace is by embracing the here and now. I need to smell the sugar cane and appreciate the rawness of its flavor instead of dreaming about the delicious things it will become. Haitians practice this way of life better than any North American I know, and maybe that’s why they aren’t bothered by apprehension about their next steps. North Americans may have a longer life expectancy, but is a long life worth anything at all when we are living most of it in some hypothetical future?

The past is now behind me, and old baggage has long been tossed out. My book is starting over with chapter one. These past few years have been filled with emotional endings and exciting beginnings that I will take with me into the next phase of my life. Where I stand now is astronomically different from 2010 when I boarded that plane to Ghana and envisioned myself as a volunteer working in orphanages and medical clinics on my spare time. I have now fallen off motorcycles, and cared for dying babies; been peed on by naked children and harassed by strangers. I climbed a mountain and swam behind countless waterfalls. I have made an entirely new family in a bizarre world, and best of all I have found love. I have become a mother. That point may be the most twisted of all, as these things tend to come out of nowhere and under completely blindsided circumstances. But the happiness I feel in this moment might just exceed the happiness I felt when Santa brought me my pink Barbie house as a three year old.

So tomorrow when I am forced to say goodbye to my babies, I will embrace the sadness with a feeling of happiness knowing that I will soon be back for good. It will be another ending of my strange beginning. Time is moving on, my little ones are growing, and good things are happening. That tranquility I've talked about in the past will still be flowing through my veins, and the thought of my return will continue to give me satisfaction. New struggles will begin, new children will arrive, new moments of joy and moments of tears will pass, and I will fully embrace every moment of every day.

Peace and Love from Haiti.



UPDATE: Nassa came to me when she was 11 months old weighing only 7lbs. Today she is smiling and finally able to sit up and use her legs. She has made an incredible recovery and is continuing to stay strong throughout treatments. She's my little fighter. Unfortunately, her mother isn't doing so well. I spent the afternoon sitting with her as she lay on a cold concrete floor covered in flies. It breaks my heart to say that her chance of survival is severely slim and the next few weeks are crucial. She cannot stand and she can barely talk. She has become very weak. I will be transporting her to hospital tomorrow and keeping the faith that she will fight as hard as Nassa and do a complete turn around as well. Thank you to all of those who have sent money for her family. Today we were able to provide them with a months worth of food,clothes, vitamins, toys, and medicine. I couldn't do it without all of you. Starting tomorrow we will also be accumulating more medical bills with her mother, if anyone wishes to contribute to these fees please contact me via Facebook or email emily@himeforhelp.org

Coming and Going..

I'm heading somewhere I want to go, but leaving somewhere I want to stay.

Is it too dramatic to say leaving feels like death? I have to leave once again to return to University and I know that I won’t be back for a couple of months and in those passing months, things and people will change. That's inevitable. My kids will have grown taller. My babies will be talking more. My little girls will have started their first day of school. Emilio will be crawling. And every second lived during my time away is weighted down with the knowledge that I can’t have these moments that I will miss back.

I have left many times in the past and have arrived just as many times. Though it might seem like I should be used to this, adjusted to the countdown and the onslaught of sensory details, both in leaving and in arriving, I’m not. I don’t want to be. This time coming "home" to Haiti meant something different to me. It took courage and every ounce of strength I had left in me. It was reuniting with my children after a quick departure and without a proper goodbye last year. It was about mending open wounds. After being forced to leave my home, my children, and my life in Haiti last year due to some unimaginable security issues… I turned bitter. I hurt every single day. I mourned the loss of a life.. my life. I couldn't think about Haiti. I couldn't talk about Haiti. Because the hurt was too much to bear. My kids would call and I would have to hang up the phone because the sounds of their voices sent the sharpest pain through my heart. I wanted to be back. I wanted to be holding them. But at that moment, I knew I couldn't. So instead, the only thing I could do to "survive" was to try and not think about Haiti. That was an impossible task. The yearning for my children and for my home nearly killed me. Coming back and stepping foot onto the Haitian soil again, I cried. I smelled the air, heard the noises, saw the people, and said to myself "I'm Home". It was in that instant, of stepping off the plane, that I knew that I was back where I belonged. That empty void I had been feeling for months was quickly filled back up. I felt a sense of pride. Yes, I was proud of myself for coming back. For finding the strength. For losing the fear. And then when my gate opened and I saw my kids running towards the vehicle with open arms.. my heart exploded. Holding them again was something I can't even put to words. It was magical. It was as if no time had passed. Our love and trust for each other remained strong even though we had been separated by thousands of miles. We never stopped thinking of each other. We never stopped loving each other. Ever.

I soaked up every minute of these past few months. I didn't want to let them go. We sat around telling stories, playing music, being silly, and just absorbing all of the time we possibly could. We all knew that I would have to leave again come September, but none of us wanted to think about that. For once, I stopped worrying about the future, stopped thinking about leaving, and enjoyed every single minute I had with the children who have stolen my heart and changed my life. I cherished every moment with my friends who have been there for me through some of my most difficult days, who have helped both the children and I, and who understand completely how difficult Haiti can be and how hard it is to have your heart split between two places. Most of these friends I have not known long, but I know our friendships will last a lifetime. I spent time with my neighbours who greeted me by shouting my name as they saw me drive by and running at me for hugs and kisses. They didn't forget me. I realized how beyond blessed I am.

There are some moments in life that are like pivots around which your existence turns- small intuitive flashes, when you know you have done something correct for a change, when you think you are on the right track. I was holding Emilio and watching Tyson sleep a few nights ago, when I realized that my lunatic idea to move to Haiti at the age of 19 was the right one.

People always ask me "Don't you want a life for yourself", "Your only in your twenties, shouldn't you be doing other things?". Every time I heard someone say that I never knew how to answer or how to react. At first I would feel offended but then I would start asking myself the same question. I was always trying to figure out the right way to answer. After thinking about that question for awhile, it suddenly just hit me while I was holding Emilio and watching my other babies sleep. I realized that I never knew how to answer that, and I always felt confused with the the statement "Don't you want a life for yourself"... because... this is MY LIFE. This is the life I chose to live for myself. This is where I want to be. Yes, I am in my twenties, yes most of my friends are out partying and living up the university lifestyle, yes sometimes I wonder what it would be like to spend a day doing what they do and not having to think little a forty year old, but the truth is ... I could not imagine spending my days doing anything else. I am incredibly lucky. I get to watch these beautiful children grow into such incredible little beings full of hope, dreams, and happiness. I get to see their first steps, hear their first words, be there every step of the way. They fill my life with a type of joy and pride that I never knew existed. I am truly happy. What more could I want ?

This trip confirmed something for me that I had been struggling with. I have struggled trying to decide exactly where I should be. I felt guilty being in Haiti and leaving my family and friends in Canada, but then coming to Canada I feel guilty for leaving my children and friends in Haiti. It's a constant war within my own heart. But this time, I sat back on the top of the mountain with the wind blowing and the ocean in view and just stopped thinking. I stopped trying to figure it out. Instead, I felt something. I felt that same familiar tug in my heart that I had felt when I first arrived in Haiti. I took a deep breath in and said "this is home".

I have returned to Canada, but not for long. I am going to be completing this semester of school (until December) here in Ontario, but will be heading back to Haiti in January as my University has offered me enough online classes that I will be able to finish my degree while being with my kids. I am anxious and excited to see what the future holds.

Thank you to all of my friends and family in Haiti & Canada for always welcoming me home. I am so grateful for all of you.

"Family isn't always blood, it's the people in your life who want you in theirs; the ones who accept you for who you are. The ones who would do anything to see you smile and who love you no matter what"- Unknown