Chapter 5 -- The wait

February 16
Virginia
I am constantly figuring out what time it is in Arkahangel’sk and thinking about what the babies must be doing. It’s 4 p.m. there now. They’re just waking up from their naps, getting dressed, and then it’s time to play.

Realize I haven’t written anything about the food. Mike hated it. I found it just basically unremarkable.

Sour cream is everywhere. At breakfast one morning in Arkhangel’sk I actually watched a guy stir sour cream into his tomato juice. Breakfasts were probably the best meals: some fruit, cereals, smoked fish, meat and cheese, hard boiled eggs, crusty rolls and dark breads.

For lunches we usually ate in the room. Bought meat, cheese, fruit, bread. Mike had a dry sandwich most days (I forgot to buy mayonnaise or mustard or something for the bread). I had pears and cheese.

I don’t know where the pears came from, but they were the best pears I’ve ever had. Crunchy. Sweet. Juicy. I don’t know what made me buy them. I never would at home. But I had wanted bananas, and they didn’t have any that day in the market.

I think every dinner I had included a generous amount of sour cream. Calimari baked in sour cream. Mushrooms baked in sour cream, Mussels in sour cream. Cream of chicken soup flavored with sour cream.

February 19
One week ago today we sat in the lobby of the hotel in Arkhangel’sk with our coordinator and translator. They told us we’d be back in six weeks. One week down then. Five more to go.

When we left they told us Elena would be in the hospital for two more weeks. One week down. One more to go.

February 24
I feel homesick for Arkhangel’sk. Is that possible? To feel homesick for a place that never was your home, a place you only visited for three days?

It’s 7 a.m. there. Nicholas is tucked into his crib, one or two thumbs in his mouth. He’ll be up in an hour.

March 3
Mom threw us a baby shower. I’ve never before been to a baby shower where the mom-to-be could have a drink.

The build up to war with Iraq seems imminent. It’s likely the bombs will be flying by the time we head back.

March 4
Checked my old journals to see what we were doing on July 17, 2001, the day the babies were born. Mike and I were driving home from a long weekend camping in the woods with friends.

It’s strange to realize that as part of the adoption process the Russian government will issue new birth certificates for the kids listing Mike and I as the parents. How could I have been in an Arkhangel’sk hospital in labor when we were driving down an American highway? And to think, at that time we were still 10 months away from even deciding to adopt.

It’s 7:53 a.m. there. They’ll be awake soon. I wish we knew if Lena was out of the hospital.

March 5
It’s been three weeks now. I figure the phone could rink any day now – has to ring soon if we are going to return six weeks after we left

March 7
Went to see Bruce Springsteen last night. Rented a stretch SUV limo with some friends. Concert was awesome. Felt like I was in college again, singing, dancing, screaming for more.

On the way home found myself wondering: what will the kids think of us. Will they think we’re cool parents because we go to rock concerts? Or will they roll their eyes and think we’re corny?

March 10
Every day is one day closer. Every day is one day closer. Every day is one day closer.

I keep repeating that mantra to myself over and over every day. But I’m not sure it’s helping.

I feel like our lives are in limbo. We stand ready to drop everything and run to Russia. But we don’t know when that will be. So we are sort of wandering through life, afraid to make any commitments in the hopes that we’ll be leaving soon.

March 16
I am constantly amazed by Mike. I wasn’t sure how he’d get into being a parent. But he’s already proud and excited. It’s wonderful to watch. It’s like watching someone you love fall in love.

Actually, that’s exactly what it is. And it’s beautiful.

I thought I knew him before. But I didn’t fully know him. I thought he always locked his feelings away. But now I’ve watched him wear them like a billboard – crying when we left Elena in the hospital, watching the video of Nicholas over and over.

March 17
Another day, no phone call. It’s been five weeks now since we sat there in the lobby and they told us we’d be back in six weeks. I’m finally accepting that won’t be true. I thought this week would be better, but I’m still just a basket case. I don’t know how I’m going o do this much longer. I try taking it one day at a time.

March 18
By this time tomorrow it’s likely we’ll be bombing Iraq.

I worry about what this is going to do to our hopes to go back to Russia soon.

Every week I think it’s going to be easier. And every week it just gets harder.

March 19
The news is reporting that the air raid sirens just went off in Bagdad, Iraq.

War makes me nervous. We just don’t know how it will affect our adoption. Will it delay our trip to Russia? Will we get there only to get stuck, unable to fly home because of the war?

Kelly said it best. I’d rather face being stuck with them in Arkhangel’sk indefinitely than stuck here in the U.S. without them.

March 20
Talked with our coordinator. She said other families traveling to the same region waited more than three months between trips.

We returned five weeks ago.

I’m trying to shift my attitude, trying to convince myself that every day is one day closer to the day we are reunited. Every day is one day down.

March 22
Dreamed last night that I went back to Russia to visit the kids. I don’t know why, but Mike didn’t come with me, I was alone.

This time the director spoke English. He said it would be OK for me to go to the kids room. But then I couldn’t find it. I wandered around a maze of hallways, all of which smelled like boiled cabbage. At some point I walk through a door and find myself outside. The door closes behind me and locks. I bang and bang and bang on the door and no one comes.

March 25
War with Iraq now one week old.

Russians still against the U.S. and the war. A friend told me he heard the Russians are selling the Iraqis arms, radar jamming equipment.

When I heard that, I felt myself immediately get defensive, to support the Russians.

It amazed me the sudden loyalty I felt to a country that just six weeks ago was a complete mystery to me.

Russia is becoming an adopted homeland to me. And I feel like I have to stand up for that adopted homeland just like I would if someone bad mouthed the United States.

I almost feel like I’m going to share Nicholas and Elena’s dual citizenship to both the U.S. and Russia – at least in my heart.

March 27
When we left Arkhangel’sk, our coordinator told us we’d be back in six weeks. Tomorrow marks six weeks.

April 1
Today I was trying to cheer Kelly up. I told her maybe this is like our labor. It’s painful. And it goes on much longer than you think it should. But when it’s’ done, when you look at those little faces, you forget all about the proceeding hours, weeks, months.

April 3
Worst day so far.

Kelly and Bob got their court date today. They leave in 10 days, appear in court on April 18.

Makes me wonder what’s wrong. Is Elena still in the hospital?Our agency doesn’t know, and they’re not sure if they can find out.

I just can’t stop crying.

April 4
Finally got word today. Elena is out of the hospital.

It does make me feel a little better.

But of course I won’t really feel better until we’re packing our bags.

April 7
I’m at the end of my rope. I don’t know how much more of this waiting I can take.

April 8
These days I feel like I’m clinging to the edge between sane and hysterical. I’m fighting the momentum that is pulling me toward hysterical. It’s like I’m standing high up on a ledge or cliff and looking over the edge. Something is pulling me closer, closer to the edge. I’m having a hard time resisting the pull.

When I’m alone sometimes I almost let myself go over the edge and start to cry. I really want to cry. But at the same time I’m afraid that if I start, I won’t be able to stop. And I just can’t cry until the phone rings.

April 10
I’m losing whatever grip I had on sanity.

I feel bad for Mike. He has to put up with a wife who is falling apart. And I know the situation is difficult on him too.

My parents called tonight. I’ve been kind of avoiding them. I didn’t think I could hold it together enough to talk.

I’m just tired of people offering a collection of clichés to try to make me feel better:

“The last month of any pregnancy is hard.”

“You know it’s going to work out right.” (Actually, no I don’t. All kinds of things are out of our control and can go wrong.)

“You thought it wouldn’t be for another couple of weeks. So what’s the difference?”

No one who hasn’t gone through the adoption process can know what we’re thinking and feeling.

April 11
Heard today about another family who waited more than four months between trips. So far it’s been two months for us.

I need to get a grip. I can’t live like this for another week, let alone another month or two.

April 14
The call! We leave in six days. I cried as soon as I got off the phone. I didn’t know what else to do.

We arrive in Arkhangel’sk April 22 and pick up Nicholas and Elena the next day. Our court hearing is April 24.

So many things to do – documents, travel arrangements, clean, pay bills, file taxes, get car seats installed, etc.

April 17
I can’t wait to be back at the Pur-Navolok Hotel in Arkhangel’sk. Strangely ti feels like a home to me. So familiar. The river. The town square. The hotel suite. The grocery store.