I’m not going to sugar coat it…At times it has been difficult to balance raising kids with my 19-year career as an Air Force officer (active duty and Reserve). Most military moms will attest to the tug of emotions that comes from balancing a desire to serve with the unique demands of military service. But as every parent knows, once you become a parent, it forever changes the way you view life; you often feel more connected to and responsible for the world around you. So when I received a call in late February from the Pentagon, asking if I would replace an Army officer who had been deployed as the deputy spokesperson for U.S. military forces in Haiti following the earthquake, I readily accepted. My husband told me he was proud of me and my kids thought it was cool that mom was going to help the people of Haiti.

And so it was that in a week’s time, I found myself flying into Port-au-Prince, Haiti, above the rubble of nearly complete urban devastation, and arrived at my new home at Camp Dragon, the task force headquarters located on a parking lot next to the U.S. Embassy.

Living conditions at Camp Dragon were austere—we slept zipped up in mosquito nets on cots in tents without air conditioning; showered in cold water in a tent; used portable latrines; and ate MREs and meals out of a mobile field kitchen. A typical work day was 17 hours long, seven days per week. After work, we’d collapse on our cots, toss and turn through the heat and the constant noise of running generators, and then awaken the next morning to the sound of roosters crowing across the city. 

At mission peak, the U.S. military’s Joint Task Force-Haiti consisted of more than 20,000 U.S. troops, deployed with the mission to save lives and mitigate the suffering of the Haitian people. The 7.0 magnitude earthquake that struck this Caribbean island nation killed more than 230,000 people, injured thousands more, and left more than two million Haitians homeless.

Initially, the military focused on providing emergency lifesaving search and rescue, food, water, shelter and medical aid. As those immediate needs were met, the mission transitioned to actions such as assisting the Haitian government with preparing for the rainy and hurricane seasons, addressing the needs of homeless Haitians in harm’s way and engineering flood control measures in the internally displaced persons (IDP) camps.

While my job included working with news media to facilitate coverage of U.S. military operations, the most rewarding part of my work happened behind the scenes. I served as a planner and liaison officer with our counterparts at the U.S. Embassy, U.S. Agency for International Development, Government of Haiti, United Nations Stabilization Mission-Haiti and non-governmental aid organizations, on a team that developed a national communication strategy to inform the Haitian public about safer shelter options, as well as the relocation of several thousand Haitians at immediate risk during the rainy season. It was immensely rewarding work and provided me many chances to visit IDP camps.

While spending two months away from my own children, I relished the times I would visit the camps, because they are filled with children, who would hold my hands and walk with me throughout my visit. I’d use my broken French to teach them the silly games my father used to play with me, like counting their ribs to make them laugh and lifting the small ones up in the air to give them airplane rides.  The younger ones seemed oblivious to their living circumstances, and I even sensed they thought living in the camps was like a big block party. The older children, however, clearly carried the weight of the situation more heavily. Some had been injured or traumatized by the earthquake. All had lost the normalcy of their previous lives. More than one asked if I would bring them to the United States.

Even before the earthquake, attending school was a luxury in Haiti. After the quake, with many schools destroyed, most children were out of school.  Outside the camps, many children, particularly boys around my own son’s age, roamed the streets without purpose. They begged us for money, tried selling us cigarettes and booze, danced outside our camp gate in the rain, played soccer on our helicopter landing zone, and stripped down to swim in the dirty, rushing water of the storm sewers.  Usually, after dark, most found their way home, but a few had nowhere—and no one--to go home to.

I absorbed all this, managing to stay professionally detached because I was busy and focused on my mission. Until one night, when I walked down Rue 15 Octobre to the Embassy next door, the busy street deserted in the pouring rain. As I approached the Embassy gate, I saw that the Haitian guards had placed two of the homeless boys on chairs under cover, wrapped them in garbage bags as rain ponchos, and given them some American MREs to eat.  As I walked past them, the boys looked up at me from their meal with big eyes and even bigger smiles.

I smiled back at them, said the customary “bon soir,” and entered the deserted Embassy. I walked across the lobby past the Marine guard to the restroom, shut the door, sat on the floor, and began to sob. It was as if all the Haitian children I’d seen during my tour manifested in the faces of those two boys. Yes, I cried for the Haitian orphans and the families without shelter. I cried because I was tired and missed my own family thousands of miles away. But what touched my soul most were the smiles of these two boys. Homeless in the rain, with nowhere to go, their young spirits still held hope. More than hope, they still had a sense of joy. Furthermore, Haitians were helping them. Not U.S. troops, not big-money international aid organizations. But normal, everyday Haitians.

Since returning home, people often ask me what it will take for Haiti to recover, and whether it’s even possible. The truth is, only time will tell. The international community has been very generous with aid.  The situation on the ground has remained impressively stable. We have not seen mass starvation or disease. But make no mistake—this nation still faces a daunting challenge. Bureaucracy, poverty and illiteracy lay between the Haitian people and a better future, as thick as the rubble that clogs the streets. As we focus on helping Haiti, we must seek long-term, sustainable solutions. Just like those Embassy guards, the Haitian people need, want and deserve the ability to help themselves and to design their own futures.

As I waded through the throngs of people at the airport the day I left Port-au-Prince, I reflected on my experience there, as I have many days since. The truth is, I was not just a U.S. Airman in Haiti, although I wore the uniform of the United States. I was also a mother.  As an American, and as a mother, I refuse to give up on Haiti’s children, or on its ability to rise above the rubble. I know Haiti can do it, with the world’s help and its own determination. I looked into the eyes of a battered nation’s future that dark, rainy night on Rue 15 Octobre and saw the light of hope.

In addition to serving as an Air Force Reserve officer, Amber Cargile is principal consultant of Cargile Communications, LLC, a boutique public affairs firm. Amber lives in the foothills of Arizona’s Sonoran Desert with her husband, two children and Golden Retriever.