Our ArkAngels

Introduction

2006-04-11T18:44:00.000-07:00

We decided to adopt on Mother’s Day.

It was the perfect warm spring evening. I sat in my brother-in-law’s backyard quietly watching my niece and nephew laugh and play on the swing set in the back yard. Earlier in the evening they proudly presented my sister-in-law with cards made with construction paper, glue, glitter and great swirls of Crayola colors. One looked like flowers. The other I’m not so sure.

I kept thinking about how I stopped taking the pill 17 months ago. Seventeen times I wondered if a baby was growing inside me. And 17 times I was disappointed.

“Honey,” I said, approaching my husband Mike, who stood alone, staring blankly in the direction of the kids. “Maybe we should adopt a child.”

“Sure.”

As with all major life changing decisions we made together – to move in together, to get married, to buy a house – it came easy. We both knew at that moment that adopting was right for us. No more discussion needed. We were ready to be parents. We were tired of waiting. Let’s get on with it.

I wish I remembered what else we discussed standing there in his brother’s backyard. The only thing I remember is that a great wave of warmth flowed over me, and a knowing smile creped across my face.

Next Mother’s Day was going to be different. I was going to be a mom.

This is our family's story, as recorded in the journal I kept during our Incredible Journey.

Chapter 1 -- Mother's Day

2006-04-11T18:39:00.000-07:00

Mother’s Day
May 12
I’m filled with so many thoughts:

Regret. I regret that I never got to experience being pregnant, the changes in my body, the connection with the child growing inside.

Joy. By this time next year it’s likely we’ll be parents. Wow.

Fear. There’s so much we don’t know, so much that will be out of our control. I have no idea what to expect.

May 14
Now that we’ve decided to do this, now that we’ve said it out loud, I can’t stop thinking about it.

I must admit, I’m scared. It seems somewhat odd – like going to Kmart to shop for a child.

May 18
I always heard that when a woman gets pregnant her first instinct is to nest, to prepare the home for the coming child.

I always assumed it was something to do with hormones.

I guess not.

All I want to do is clean, throw away junk we’ve accumulated to make room for all the kid junk we’ll soon have.

I imagine we’ll go through many of the same emotions as a pregnant couple. Only it will be somewhat different because we can’t see, touch, watch the baby grow.

But now that we’ve started this, there’s a good chance that somewhere out there – maybe in urban Moscow, or in frozen Siberia, or in the lands bordering Asia – there’s a child who will one day be our baby.

Our baby. What an interesting phrase. Not ours in the sense of ownership. Not even ours in the sense of genetics. But yet ours. Our baby.

June 4
I know we surprised people with the announcement. But I had no idea that some people didn’t believe us.

I was driving through the neighborhood when I saw a friend was having a yard sale. Pulled in figuring I’d stop by and chat for a few, maybe buy some lemonade from the kids’ lemonade stand. It wasn’t until the car was stopped and it was too late for me to continue on that I realized she was selling all her baby stuff. Clothes, a bassinet (OK, our child will likely be too old for a bassinet), a pack ‘n play. She didn’t even call to at least give us first crack at buying any of the items.

She called the next day and it only got worse.

“I’m sorry about the baby stuff (long pause). I just didn’t realize.”

“Didn’t realize? Or didn’t believe us?”

June 10
First home study meeting today. Now the real work begins. They’re sending us a packet of paperwork to start collecting, signing. I am anxious to get it started.

July 1
Had our second home study meeting today. Our social worker Diane came out to the house to make sure it’s fit for children. Showed her the kids’-room-to-be. Pointed out the smoke alarms, the fire extinguishers, the little spools used to tie up the blind chords so that children can’t hang themselves on them.

This was the meeting where Diane had to talk with us individually. I guess they separate you to make sure you say the same things, kind of like they always do on police shows, separating suspects to check their stories.

She talked to me for less than 15 minutes.

She talked to Mike for almost an hour.

July 2
Tomorrow we should make great strides in our paperwork – we’re getting seven documents notarized. Then we start collecting the next batch.

I have to admit, I’m a little nervous about the physical. I mean, you always hear stories about incredibly healthy people (like Magic Johnson) who go in for a routine physical only to find out they are dying.

I am healthy, I think. I don’t have any symptoms of anything. I eat well (although I probably don’t sleep quite enough). While I’d love to lose a few more pounds, my weight is healthy. I workout. I’m rarely sick. I’m a vegetarian, so my cholesterol should be OK. I know all that, and yet I still worry a little about what could be lurking unseen.

July 29
Completed the home study. Diane is going to recommend we be approved. I figured she would. But it’s still a relief to be done.

Now we just wait. Wait for Diane to file the draft with the agency we hired to handle the placement. Wait for the agency to call with a referral.

August 14
Draft filed five days ago, and we’re still waiting for a referral.

We’ve decided we definitely want twins. Heather with our agency tried to discourage us, said twins are rare. But I know that one out of every 88 births in Russia is twins. I looked it up on the Internet. So it’s not that rare.

I just don’t know what to think. One minute I’m excited to know that we could get a call any minute. But I’m also trying not to get my hopes up. And that leaves me terribly conflicted. I’m excited. I’m afraid to be excited. I’m afraid.

I’m not looking forward to going through this for the next four, five, six, nine months.

Chapter 2 -- First glimpse

2006-04-11T18:34:00.000-07:00

August 27
Got a call today.

Heather said they got word there might be a pair of twins available in October. Healthy infants. Boy/girl. From the northern reaches of Russia. A 2-hour plane ride from Moscow.

I don’t know what to think, what to feel. I need to keep a level head. I need to remember this may not work out. So hard.
At the same time, I can’t stop thinking how perfect it would be – a boy and a girl. We’ve already decided on Nicholas for a boy. Nicholas and Elena? Or Sasha? Or Anna?

September 2
Want to allow myself to imagine you out there. It must be almost morning there. You’re in your crib. Both of you. Do you share a crib? Or are you in two cribs sitting side-by-side.

I so much wanted to go shopping today. I want to buy clothes, diapers, bedding, decorations. But I can’t. Not until we’re sure.

I tried to get Mike talking the what if’s, the imagine that. But he won’t. He seems even more afraid than I am.

September 4
Still haven’t heard anything more. Are the twins still available? Or has a Russian family stepped in to claim them for themselves?

I am starting to get scared. What are we going to do after the adoption, but before we can fly home? For some period of time we’ll be alone in a hotel room with two children we just met. But we won’t have a clue what we should do. And we won’t be able to ask anyone – we won’t speak the language. We won’t know anything.

September 24
Friday it will be a month since we got the first call. We’ve been fairly patient. And I feel like I’m keeping somewhat grounded, mostly because the kids don’t seem real to me yet. But I want to buy things. I want them to be real.

September 25
Heather from our agency called. Says we should have information by the second week of October. That’s just two and a half weeks from now. Of course, it could always be delayed. But exciting is to know that the twins are still available.

October 2
Part of me wonders what’s taking so long. I mean, our twins right now are living in an orphanage. Certainly we could give them more if they were here, with us. But no. Instead we wait.

October3
Agency called today. Official referral is now delayed until the end of the month. So frustrating. But there’s nothing we can do. So much of this process – actually nearly all of this process – is entirely out of our control.

October 17
What is having a child really about – physically bringing a child into this world or making a life happy, secure, the best it can be?

Understand that in this region of Russia children move from the baby home to the older children’s home when they are 4-years-old. In the baby home odds are 50-50 they’ll be adopted, given a loving home and loving parents. Once they move to the older children’s home chances drop to 1 in 10. Can you imagine that birthday party? Can you imagine being 4, or even in the months before turning 4, you have no idea the future is so bleak.

October 18
Saw an interesting piece on TV last night. Barbara Walters and her adopted daughter. “Some mommies have babies from their tummies, other mommies have babies from their hearts.” Such a beautiful thought. My baby is growing in my heart right now.

October 30
Amazed at the generosity of strangers.

First an acquaintance brought me four new toys to donate to the orphanage. She adopted her two daughters, and together they wanted to help out.

Two of her friends, people we don’t even know, also wanted to donate. One gave a half dozen or so packages of bandages, vitamins, cotton balls. The other pitched in a trash bag full of gently used clothing – including the cotton knit cap her newborn came home from the hospital wearing.

“It’s not doing us any good, and I know it’s very cold over there,” she said.

Then when I got home tonight I found three huge boxes of clothing from a major children’s retailer sitting on our front step.

A month or two ago I wrote away to 20, 30, 40 companies seeking donations. I hoped some would be able to donate one or two items. Only one company though said yes. But what amazed me was the magnitude of the company’s generosity. Three boxes, 206 individual items. Gloves, jackets, shirts, pants, beautiful dresses.

It all makes me want to make a tradition of doing something similar with our children. Maybe that’s how we celebrate the twins Adoption Day – we do something together for less fortunate kids. There are plenty of days for gift giving and cake.

November 7
Mike and I are getting frustrated, angry. I e-mailed our agency yesterday and we still haven’t heard back. And we expected to hear something about the twins at the end of October, a week ago now.

Chapter 3 -- The call

2006-04-11T18:28:00.000-07:00

November 8
The call came today! Just yesterday we were at the end of our rope. Today photos, video, medical information is on its way to us. Now I know that in a couple of days we’re going to see our babies.

They tell us that in the video they are 15 months old. Lina and Igor, born 7/17. That makes them going on 16 months old now.

Lina apparently has chicken pox in the video. She has dark hair. Weighed 5.24 pounds at birth, 20.72 pounds as of last month. Report says she is more active than her brother. Likes the “fresh air. Can drink from a cup.

Igor was born breech at 4.72 pounds (weighs 27.5 pounds now). He likes mechanical toys, makes good eye contact with others and his sleep and appetite are OK.

They are their mother’s fourth pregnancy, four different fathers. First daughter lives with her father. Second child, a son, adopted by a Russian family. Don’t know what happened in the third pregnancy. Fourth and fifth children – Igor and Lina – now up for adoption. Don’t know why she gave them up for adoption or what happened to their father.
Suddenly this is all becoming real.

November 11
Video, photos, information arrived first thing this morning.

So odd. Fed Ex – our stork – came to the door just before 10 a.m. and left me standing there with a red, white and blue envelope. I knew what was inside. And yet it seemed so odd, so impersonal, to meet our children like this.

Didn’t know what to think when Igor first appeared on my TV screen in his fuzzy blue blanket sleeper. He was sitting on a rocking rooster, smiling, laughing, making sounds with the grown ups on the tape. Expected love at first sight. But no. First thought abject fear. What in the hell am I thinking, doing. I know nothing about this child. I have nothing in common with him. How can I love them just because someone across the globe put my name on their file?

Video starts with Igor. At first he’s just sitting there, perched on a rocking rooster (imagine a rocking horse in the shape of a rooster). Eventually he starts rocking. Then he smiles His eyes are very expressive. When the caretaker makes noises, he responds with similar noises. He blows bubbles and does raspberries. And he’s a bruiser.

Lina in a pink fuzzy blanket sleeper (like we might not be able to tell them apart). She too is seating in a rocking toy, starts out just sitting there. But then she too gets it rocking. Then all of the sudden she smiles and laughs.

Next the caretaker slides them together. They rock side-by-side. He reaches out and holds her rocking rooster. And they laugh.

I expected them to be delayed. I expected hollow eyes, no emotion, gaunt. I didn’t expect so much animation.

November 13 (taking the video to Pat and Lisa’s)
It’s funny, I’ve watched the video so many times now that I know exactly what comes next. At the same time, each time I watch it again I see something new. The clock hanging on the wall. The time stamp on the bottom right corner (October 15. Wonder what I was doing on that day, at that moment).

I wonder how many boys have worn that blue blanket sleeper. How many girls have worn the pink one. Do they put all the children in these suits for their American videos?

November 14
Imagine the shock today to learn the one in the pink is the boy and the one in the blue is the girl. Igor is Lina. Lina is Igor. Our little girl is a bruiser.

Sent the video and other information to a doctor who specializes in reviewing this information for adoptive parents. He discovered the switch.

Now it appears Lina weighs 20 pounds, Igor less than 17. Doctor says he’s concerned about the discrepancy in their size. Of course, Igor was smaller at birth. But the doctor thinks he should have caught up by now. He thinks there may be some motor skills development problems, which could mean something serious like Cerebal Palsey. I looked up CP on the Internet. It’s basically a term used to describe a birth-related brain injury. Could happen in eutro or during birth. Common in twins, breech birth.

So confused. We expected them to be small, to be delayed. They’re in an orphanage. But how much should a baby born at 4.75 pounds weigh at 15 months? There is four pounds between them. Is that really all that much?

And if he is sick, if he does have CP, how much difference does that make? I know we said healthy infant. But we could do this if we decided to. How to decide? If he does have CP, we might be his only hope. Might be her only hope too, since it’s likely the officials won’t want to split up twins. If we don’t adopt them, I would imagine they might never get adopted. Finding a home for twins must be hard enough. Finding a home for twins with problems must be nearly impossible.

And I don’t even know if we’ll get the answers we’re looking for. There is an element of this that is a risk no matter how much information we get. There is an element of risk when you have a biological child.

I know I said it wasn’t love at first sight. The still photos were grainy. Watching the video for the first time almost shocking. But now, after looking at it again and again, after seeing them smile with their eyes, I am falling in love.

November 16
Still waiting for answers to the questions we sent to Russia.

Still thinking a lot about Igor and what we’ll do based on the information we get back.

Part of me says, “so what.” If Igor has CP, or some other disorder, we’ll make it work. It’s not like if we don’t adopt him, he’d be cured.

But then I wonder if that’s realistic.

November 18
Shared our fears and concerns with a friend today.

He seemed appalled that we had not yet decided what to do.

“It’s not like you can choose when you give birth,” he said.

But he’s wrong. You do get to choose. When you get pregnant you choose not to drink, do drugs, smoke. You choose to seek prenatal care. You choose the best doctors. Even before you get pregnant, you choose your mate.

You get to make so many choices that we don’t get to make. Of course there are no guarantees. But you get to make choices to better your odds.

Oksana made those choices for us.

November 20
Why can’t things get easier? Still waiting on information from Russia. And today we learned INS lost Mike’s fingerprints. They treated us like cattle when we were there be printed back in August. Got an appointment card in the mail and showed up at the appointed hour only to be told to take a number and sit and wait. Why schedule an appointment if you’re going to make people sit and wait. And now Mike may have to do that all over again.

Want to buy things. But don’t want to allow myself to get too attached since we don’t know what’s going to happen. So bought books. I figure you can’t go wrong there.

December 5
Igor is healthy. Or at least that’s what it sounds like. Wonder what gets lost in the translations.

Still, they’re ours now. Of course things can still go wrong, and we have to remember that. Until we get there, a Russian family could pre-empt us and adopt them out from under us. I’m just hoping that few Russian families want twins, fewer still would be starting this process at the beginning of a hard Arctic winter.

Celebrated with vodka shots. I bought that bottle back in August and have been waiting for this day.

Took the bottle to a friend’s house. Toasted to the sound of the Beatles “Back in the U.S.S.R.” Danced.

Now I can let myself bond with them. I wouldn’t allow myself to rename them until this point. They were Igor and Lina. Now they can become Nicholas and Elena.
The agency tells us we should travel in January. That’s just weeks from now.

December 11
Been wondering, years from now, how will I feel if Nicholas and Elena want to search for their birth mother? What if they do it during their teen years, when parents can do nothing right? I remember during those years I wished I would find out I was adopted and I’d have a “real mom” out there. One who would understand me. One who would be cooler than my mom.

How will I feel when the adoption becomes an issue?

December 12
I’m realizing this is the last Christmas as we know it. Next year it will be a whole new world. Two 2 1/2-year-olds unwrapping presents. It’s a world I can’t wait to join.

December 17
Finished our paperwork and sent it to the agency today. Should arrive in Russia before Christmas. Then it needs to be translated in Moscow and sent to the orphanage. Then they can schedule our visit.

December 26
Next Christmas will be a whole different thing. I can’t wait. Nicholas and Elena will be 2 1/2. We’ll stay up late getting everything ready. Then we’ll be up early with the twins. Everyone in their jammies.

January 2
It’s time. I’m thinking we’ll hear about our first trip to Russia the week after the Russian Orthodox Christmas (which falls on 1/7). We could be there by the end of the month. Early February at the latest.

January 9
It’s almost like someone turned Mike’s switch “on.” Until a couple of days ago, he didn’t want to talk about the babies. He admitted he was scared. Now he can’t seem to stop talking about them.

January 13
One month from today we will be on our way back from Arkhangel’sk, Russia.

I knew we would hear this week. In fact, this morning I suddenly felt that the call would come today. I had kind of given up hope though when we sat down to lunch. Just then my cell phone rang and I recognized our agency’s number.

We’re told that on the first day we’ll meet the babies, fill out some paperwork. Then we’re done all the official stuff and we can focus on playing with our babies.

With each milestone it gets more real.

January 21
Trip arrangements are made. Now we just have to wait.

I expect them to cry, to hate us at first sight. The whole experience must be so unsettling for the children. They certainly know something is going on – strangers, people who look weird, who talk jiberish, who smell funny won’t leave them alone. It’s got to be scary. Add to that being ripped away from the only home they’ve ever known, the caregivers who have taken care of them all their young lives. I’m sure they won’t like us very much at the start. But they will eventually.

January 29
I can’t believe we’ll be in Russia in just 10 days. I just can’t see us there. I mean, it wasn’t that long ago that Russia was the Evil Empire. It wasn’t a place you went. It was a place that influenced nightmares about nuclear war.

And the adoption is such a life-changing event. I don’t really know exactly what our life will be life after the adoption, after that change.

It’s –17 F. in Arkhangel’sk today. I guess that’s an improvement from a few weeks ago, when we saw wind chills of –45 F.

February 4
We leave for Russia in three days.

At the same time, we seem to be moving toward war with Iraq. The aircraft carriers are on their way. I know we’ll be at war between the first and second trips. I hope it doesn’t somehow get in the way of our adoption.

Chapter 4 -- First meeting

2006-04-11T17:47:00.000-07:00

February 8
Moscow

Flight fairly easy. Left JFK at about 6 p.m. Friday, finally got into our hotel room at about 6 p.m. Saturday.

Got held up in customs. Woman agent wanted to know where were the children who went with all the clothes we brought with us. Spoke English to us, but then kept acting like she didn’t understand when we explained the clothes were donations for an orphanage. Even acted like she didn’t understand when we gave her the letter from our agency – written in English and Russian – explaining we were carrying humanitarian aid.

So we just sat down. She refused to communicate with us, so we figured there wasn’t more we could do. Either she would go get a translator or she’d get sick of us and wave us on. After five minutes she told us to go. I guess she realized we weren’t going to give her any money.

Wish I could have seen more on the drive from the airport to Moscow. Car windows covered with dirt and salt. The driver must have to replenish his supply of wiper fluid every night.

Irina, our Moscow coordinator very nice. Young woman. Very fashionable.

She talked about the two-trip rule. Said many in the government want Russian babies to stay in Russia. But yet no one wants to adopt them. When the minister of education stood up and asked parlament who would adopt the children if she closed the international adoptions, no one stood up.

Irina said that orphans of her generation got an education. “Not institute. But skills to get a job.”

Now she says they get nothing.

11:30 p.m. MSK
Ate dinner in hotel restaurant overlooking Kremlin/Red Square. So romantic. Something about it drew us there, in the dark, damp Moscow night. 24 F., we saw on TV later.

To think, soldiers used to march on those slush-slickened cobblestones. Awesome. There I was, standing in the middle of Red Square at Night. I could’ve stood there at the center and just watched the people for hours.

I didn’t realize the cold could be so beautiful.

February 9
Moscow is not at all what I expected. Everywhere I look I see signs of capitalism. Street vendors. Billboards and blinking neon signs. A jumbotron just outside Resurection Gate, the entrance to Red Square. A Christian Dior shop all lit up inside the GUM department store, once the place where Soviet Russians once stood in line to buy the rare meat and eggs. Casinos. Dilbert in the Moscow Times. What a juxtaposition.

Today we couldn’t walk through Red Square. Had to walk around.

Watched as the guards change at the tomb of the unknown soldier. They still march with their legs straight and high, like a funny scissor kick. Guards so young. If I ran into him on the street out of uniform I would swear he was 12-years-old.

Everything in Moscow is big – big bell (too big to be hoisted into the bell tower, too big to ring. Left broken on the ground), big cannon (too big to fire). In the Armory museum saw the Tsar’s artifacts – platters big enough to hold 100-pound turkeys. Sleds that took 1,000 horses to go from St. Petersburg to Moscow. A statue in the Moscova River of Peter the Great standing at the helm of a boat: big man, tiny boat.

Toured the churches. Amazed at how deeply religious the people are. Stalin blew up the Christ the Redeemer Church back in the 1930s to make room for a public pool. Rebuild after the fall of Communism “at great expense” in the 1990s, according to guidebook. Inside, women with their heads veiled in scarves buying candles to light for loved ones, standing before the many icons crossing themselves, praying, crying. Strange in a country where religion was outlawed until 10 years ago.

Surprised so many churches throughout Moscow and right there in the Kremlin survived the 70 years of Communist rule. So ornate. The icons, the colors, the gold, the jewels, the rituals. The sterling silver water bucket used to make holy oil. Every inch inside every wall of every church covered with frescoes, gild, icons. There are eyes everywhere.

Makes me understand why the people revolted.

Arkhangel’sk
Aeroflot not nearly as bad as I imagined. The plane was obviously old. Seat backs flopped forward on landing if no one was sitting in them. Huge round windows with curtains. Muzak played throughout the trip. Strange that the first two songs were about places in the United States, Hotel California and I Left my Heart in San Francisco.

Could see nothing but snow – no trees, no buildings, no roads, no runway – when we came in for the landing.

“I feel like I’m at the end of the earth.”

“You are,” Mike said.

Tomorrow morning we go meet our babies.

February 10
6:31 a.m.
Wakeup call due now. After counting the months, weeks, days, now we’re counting the hours, minutes.

In the airport we met another family going to the same orphanage to meet their son. Bob and Kelly are adopting Alexander, an 18-month-old blond whose been in the orphanage all his life.

Arrived at orphanage at about 9:30 a.m. It was a blur. Everywhere there was that distinctive smell of boiling cabbage. It must be the main course at every meal they serve the children, the ones who eat table food, at least.

We sat down to talk with the director, when the door opened and a woman dressed in clashing print skirt and top with a kerchief hiding her hair walks in carrying a baby.

My heart skips a beat. But this isn’t our baby. I panic for a moment – they’re doing a switch on us. Here we are, helpless, and they’re going to try to give us a different baby.

Then I remember it must be Bob and Kelly’s’ soon-to-be-son Alexander.

The door opens again, and a different woman dressed in similar clashing prints comes in carrying a child. Even though we’ve only seen one photo, even though that photo was grainy and is now six months old, even though he’s clearly put on some weight, I know immediately it’s Nicholas.

He’s wearing a bright red fleece sweat suit with a cho-cho train appliquéd on the front. The arms and legs are rolled twice so his hands and feet aren’t lost in the fabric. He’s 19 months old. The tags on his clothes say they’re for 3-month-olds.

The nurse puts Nicholas in Mike’s lap. Nicholas squirms and I take him. He sits stiffly but settles down.

They tell us Elena is in the hospital. Dr. Pavlov says he’ll explain later. But first we probably want to spend some time with Nicholas. And the next thing we know we’re being led down a hallway and left in an empty room behind an empty room to get to know our babies.

We’re left alone, the six of us that should be seven. And I realize there’s no way we could get help if we needed it. I couldn’t find the director’s office again even if I had a map. And anyone we might run into in the hall won’t speak our language.

We all sit on the floor, in two groups of three, and help ourselves to the few toys on a shelf: some stacking cups, a shape sorter cookie jar, a dingy and dirty 2-foot-tall stuffed bunny.

Nicholas looks at us like we’re aliens. He almost seems terrified. I want to comfort him, but I don’t know how, and he won’t let me. If we try to come anywhere near him, he turns away from us. After all these months and all these miles, all I want to do is hold him tight. And he won’t let me.

After a while our Luba finally comes to get us. She takes Nicholas to his room to be changed and dressed to go to the hotel with us for the afternoon. While they’re doing that, we’ll meet with the director and review the twins’ medical history.

Twins Born 7/17/01
Moved to the orphanage 9/30/01
Stayed in the hospital so long because of their weight.
The biological mom abandoned them in the hospital. She had no prenatal care, never visited them after they were born, had no interest in them. Never asked about them. Neither did her parents, the twins’ maternal grandparents.
On February 8, 2002 mother’s rights terminated. She didn’t appear in court.
Mom was born June 18, 1978. That makes her 24-years-old.
She didn’t identify the father when she checked into the hospital and the birth certificates don’t list a father’s name.
Oksana is single, unemployed. She lives in her parent’s small apartment with seven other people. There isn’t room for two more.
Dr. Pavlov goes over Nicholas’ medical history first:
Nicholas was the second born, a breech birth. 2 kilograms, 145 grams.
In his short 21-months of life he’s had bronchitis or the flu six times, “infections in the renus way” three times and the chicken pox once. Most recent was in January when he was treated in the hospital with bronchitis.
“So he’s still not strong now,” Dr. Pavlov says.
Diagnosis include paranatal pathology in the central nervous system and a window open in his heart.
His psycho-motor skills development is delayed, as well is his speech. Dr. Pavlov blames it on his illnesses, the window in his heart, being abandoned.
He got his first teeth at 8 months, sat on his own at 9 months and walked at 16 months.
“So he can walk,” I say, “because he didn’t seem to be able to when we were playing with him a little while ago.”
“Oh yes, he can walk. I’ve seen him do it myself. He’s just nervous.”
Elena’s diagnosis is pretty much the same. She’s in the hospital now with bronchitis.

Dr. Pavlov says they take babies to the hospital anytime they are sick so they don’t pass their illness to the other babies. But until I see her I don’t know what to think.

They tell us they’ll call and let us know when we can go to the hospital to meet Elena. I’m so worried. What if we came all this way to find out there is a problem?

4 p.m.
They let us take Nicholas to the hotel room for the day.

Finally got Nicholas to nap. Actually, Nicholas and Daddy are napping – and bonding – together on the bed.
I can watch them sleep for the next hour. Then we have to wake him, get him ready for the people from the orphanage to come take him away. He has to be back in time for dinner.

No one ever called, so I have a feeling we aren’t going to see Elena today. I wonder what that means.

I’ll admit, we’re worried about Nicholas. He’s 18-months-old and I don’t think he’s walking on his own. He’ll take a few steps if he’s holding on to us, and he’ll pull himself up on something. Doctor Pavlov claims he walked on his own at 16 months. But I don’t believe it.

And he crawls funny – one leg straight, one leg bent inwards, like I’d imagine a young Quasi Motto might crawl.

I think there’s something wrong with him. So what do I do? The only experts we have to speak with all say “niet.” And that seems good enough for Mike.

And as I said before when we were waiting for information, it’s not like he’ll get better, or he’ll have a better chance at a good life, if we leave him here.

Besides, he (so far) has an amazingly easy disposition. He’s only fussed (mildly) a few times: when we got in and out of the car, when he didn’t want to go down for his nap, when I changed my first diaper.

And he really loves to laugh and play. He basically sat for two hours here on the hotel room floor rolling and tossing a giant beach ball.

He seems to be unphased by leaving the orphanage with us, going to the market, taking a ride in a grocery cart, coming to our hotel room, eating lunch here (yogurt, juice, a baby cookie). I guess when you live in an orphanage, you don’t get to go around double fisted very often (a piece of bread from Daddy’s lunch in one hand, a piece of pear from Mommy’s lunch in the other).

Before we left the orphanage, we had a chance to talk with the director. He kept saying they are both delayed (he guessed three to four months behind), but that they were healthy and in a family setting they would thrive and catch up. Said they know this because they know of many children who have left the orphanage and have done well.

At that I brought out the photo of Katie Ferguson. His face lit up. He remembered her, and did we want to see the photo from when she was adopted? Anna, our translator, also remembered her. Within five minutes Dr. Pavlov had the blue plastic binder opened to her file and copies of photos taken then.

Before we were able to go to the orphanage, we went to the Ministry of Education office to get the official referral. I think our two drivers were having some sort of contest to see who could get there first. Drove through what seemed like alleyways and backyards plowed only by the tires of the cars that went before. With all the snow, how do they know where the roads would be anyway?

From the outside, the building didn’t look anything like a government office. Row building with lots of doors. Anna went to the last one and rang a bell. A woman with red hair – the kind you can only get from a bottle – answered. She was wearing blue fuzzy slippers. We followed her into her office and the four of us sat along the wall as though before a firing squad.

“It’s Monday, so I don’t have a lot of time for you,” Tatiana said.

She spent the next 15 minutes repeating herself. Make sure you understand the children’s medical histories. Tells us what to do if we don’t want to accept the referral.

She’s very cold. Doesn’t look at us through the entire interview.

She did say our dossier is complete and translated. Bob and Kelly still have some documents to get done.

All the while I’m trying to figure out what she thinks about international adoptions – Americans coming to Russia and taking babies home. Some think Russian babies should stay in Russia. Some are embarrassed that one world super power can’t take care of its own and has to look to the enemy to adopt Russia’s orphans. Others are glad these children will have happy families, no matter where they are.

After all the official stuff, she finally looked at us. She said we need to be strong now – we have children to look out for now. She’s only the first of many Russian women who tell us to be strong. Tatiana went on to give us supportive parenting advice. As we left, she shook all of our hands, and Kelly and I started to cry.

Mike tells me not to worry about Nicholas. He was small to begin with. And he’s a twin, and an orphaned one. We expected him to be behind. Besides, he has good hand/eye coordinator, he’s animated, he laughs and smiles, he uses both hands, he feeds himself.

The orphanage doesn’t seem like a bad place. Ten kids live together in three-room suites – a common room in the middle, with two bed rooms on either side. Clean. Organized. Lot’s of toys. Actually, I’m surprised at how nice it was. Expected something out of a bad movie.

Anna estimated we’d be back in about six weeks.

February 11
Phone woke us up at 2:15 a.m. Paul somehow got the time difference wrong. Still, it was great to hear from him (even if I didn’t get up and instead eaves-dropped from the bedroom).

Anna and Luba picked us up just after 9 this morning at took us right to the hospital to visit Elena, finally.

Felt like we walked in a back door to the state-run hospital. There’s no lobby, no information desk, just a set of stairs. We climb three flights. The fist thing I notice is the lighting. It’s like they ran out of light bulbs a decade ago. Once my eyes acclimate I see the walls are multicolored, with huge patches of paint peeled away and showing the old colors underneath. I’m afraid to touch anything. Scary. It looks like the ‘40s era Stalinist Russia I expected.

And everywhere there’s that smell of cabbage.

When we emerge on the third floor, Anna goes to find the doctor. A woman in a robe wanders by. Her eyes are sunk deep into her head and she looks like she might be a mental patient. But I imagine she’s there to have a baby. So sad.

Anna comes back and tells us we still can’t see Elena. They’re too busy. The children are getting their massages right now.

Come back this afternoon.

Anna kept apologizing. But I know it’s not her fault. Go with the flow.

So we went to the orphanage and picked up Nicholas. He came to us in the same red fleece pajamas, same green tights, same red hand-knit socks as he was wearing yesterday. I wonder how long they wear the same clothes.

We brought him back to the hotel and it was ball rolling on the floor again. And now Mike is trying to get him to take a nap.
If we were at home I’d probably just put him in his crib and let him fall asleep on his own. But we don’t have a crib here, so we have to sleep before we put him on the bed so he doesn’t try to crawl – or fall – out.

We’re told their schedule is they wake up between 7 and 8 a.m. They eat breakfast and then play. They take naps at 10 (for about an hour) and 2 (for about two hours). They eat lunch at noon. They have a snack each time they wake up. They eat dinner at 6 and are in bed by 8.

Did talk briefly with one of the caretakers. Confirmed that Nicholas walks only with assistance. And they said they call him Goshen – “Little One.”

Got to see three or four kids in their room while we waited for Nicholas to be ready. One girl with white-blond hair waved and came to the door. Anna said her family will come next week for their first trip. Name: Alena.

On the way to the hospital noticed an incredible stature of Lenin in the town square. He’s several stories tall, a man rising out of a slab of black granite. I thought that after the fall of the Soviet Union they removed all these statues.

Things I would recommend other first-timers bring with them: sippy cup (while the orphanage has them drinking out of real cup, all the hotel had was glass), baby wash clothes (to wipe up faces), new clean clothes (to change them into in the hotel.

You can always change them back into their orphanage clothes when they go back), baby soap/shampoo, a photo album of you and your family (Nicholas showed little interest so far, but we’ll leave it behind so the nurses can show them while we’re gone), baby lotion and diaper cream (all the babies seem to have dry skin, and we couldn’t seem to find diaper cream in the market), a Swiss Army knife (for cutting cheese, bread, fruit for snacks); plastic spoons, paper plates (the hotel only had china).

More toys. Nicholas loved the beach balls. He could roll them, throw them, chase them, kick them. We think he even started picking up on the English – when we told him to go get the ball, he did. Board books. Small stuffed animals. Plastic nesting cups (fun to stack and build with, and good for pouring water in the bath). Cars and trucks. Finger puppets.

Went to the hospital to meet Elena. First talked to the doctor. Said she has pneumonia (yesterday it was bronchitis and the flu). Also milk allergy. Doctor elaborated in English – “cow’s milk.”

Doctor said Elena needs to be in the hospital for two more weeks. Said that the blotches on her skin are from the milk allergy. Said we could do tests in the United States (cost just $5 – how did he know that?) to determine exactly what she is allergic to. Doctor said she’s a great girl. Said she’ll do great in a family.

Then they took us to a room where Elena was sitting in a crib. We had to wear hospital masks.

She’s wonderful! We know she is not quite herself because she’s sick. But she enjoyed being held more than Nicholas. She also enjoyed walking between us (unlike Nicholas). She also liked to point to things – out the window, in my eye, etc. She’s bitter than Nicholas. And dressed in rags – including a cossak-like blanket tied around her waist. I couldn’t tell if she was wearing a diaper (and I’m not sure I want to know). And one of her layers was crudly stitched down the front.

Tomorrow we get to spend two and a half hours at the hospital with her.

While we were at the hospital, Anna arranged for a babysitter to come watch Nicholas so we didn’t have to take him back to the orphanage. When we got back to the room he was napping on the couch. We sat here next to him and talked while he slept for an hour. This time when he woke up he didn’t seem as confused. I picked him up, put him on the floor and he started playing with the ball again.

He’s great with the ball. He laughs. He bats it with whichever hand is free. Tell him to go get the ball and he does. And Mike even taught him to kick it – both from seated and when Mike held him.

Within two minutes today he said his first English words. I was going to the bathroom and I waved and said “bye-bye.” He waved back and said “bye-bye.” Then when I came back he said “ball.” So exciting. The first of many firsts to come.

He also started to explore more, opening and closing the door, acting more like he might try to stand, walking a little more (with assistance).

We are also starting to learn some of his signals. When he’s getting close to going to sleep he slips one (or two) fingers in his mouth and starts to suck. When he wants his diaper changed he lies on his back and puts his legs up in the air.

February 2
Another amazing day in Arkhangel’sk. Anna pickes us up at 9:30. Went right to the hospital to spend the morning with Elena.

She is so wonderful. She loves to snuggle. Every so often she would lay her body against mine and sigh. I think somehow she knows we are different from the caretakers who have spent time with her. Somehow she knows we are for keeps.

When we first got to the hospital she was wet. All the way down one leg. Mike went and found a nurse. She brought in a fresh pair of tights and a folded up baby blanket, probably once white but now grey. She took this blanket, put it between Elena’s legs, put the clean tights on and then used a second blanket to wrap around her waist and secure the two ends of the blanket that would act as her diapers.

Got to spend two hours with her. We played with stickers. We played with the ball we brought and the toys she had there. We looked out the window.

And we were there for two treatments. No. 1 a nurse came in and gave her a massage. She hated it! They thumped on her chest. We assume that was to break up anything in her chest. Afterwards the nurse asked me if I wanted to dress her (at least
I assume that’s what she asked). I did. But I didn’t get the belt quite right. So when she was walking and her tights were dragging in the butt, I tried again.

Later the doctor came and told us to bring “your daughter” and follow him to a “treatment.” They took two electrodes, put them in a wet towel and tied them to the front and back of her chest. She had to sit there for 10 minutes, one turn of the egg timer. Mike held her through that. She wasn’t thrilled. But she sat. We also managed to have a bit of a conversation with the nurse. She asked where in the US we live. We said Virginia.

Before we got there I wasn’t sure what we’d do for two hours. I thought we’d be bored. But before I knew it, Anna was outside the window and it was time to go.

I couldn’t help it. I cried. Anna told me not to, that there was nothing to be sad about, she’d be mine soon. And I just couldn’t tell her. I couldn’t tell her I couldn’t stand to leave her in that place. That would seem like a put down. But that was what made it so hard. Even Mike cried. I’ve never seen that before.

But no matter how much I hate it, there’s nothing I/we can do. Talke about go with the flow.

I consider if it would be possible for one of us to stay here, to visit her everyday between now and the adoption. But of course I know that isn’t possible.

Back to the room for a quick lunch. Then we took a walk and took some photos. Am on the lookout for the hammer and sickle. It’s everywhere. On buildings. On statues. Even on the base of all the light poles on the main street.

Also fascinated with the statue of Lenin in town square. Got some new photos of it today. Wanted to make sure it really was Lenin. She said it was. “He was a leader in our revolution.”

February 13
Anna and Luba picked us up at 1:30 and we went to the orphanage. Dr. P. took us on a tour. First stop: winter garden. Wow. Photos don’t do it justice. A room about half the size of a high school gym. Plants everywhere. A fountain. Birds, turtles, guinnie pigs. Lemons. Cactus. Ferns. So amazing. Sometimes it’s just too cold for the children to go outside. So they come here.

Also saw gym, music room, pool (water looked dirty and greenish brown, but I’m told that’s just the color of the water here). Sauna. Russian culture room.

Also visited several of the living areas. Small babies. Four-year-olds all sleeping in toddler beds lined up head to head, eight in a room.

We had a second chance to talk with Dr. P. Short interview. He wants US parents to consider adopting his older children. At 4-years-old the children move on to the next orphanage. Once there they have a one in 10 chance of being adopted. He has 150 children in his orphanage. Last year he had to send 15 on to the older kids’ home. For those kids, most have no chance, no future.

At the same time we filled out the paperwork to move the adoption along. “Positive decision.” Sign here. Everything’s in Russian.

Did get to see Nicholas once more before leaving the orphanage for the last time until our next trip. He didn’t really want anything to do with us. But he would play with the ball. Gave his photo album to the caretakers. I’m really glad I made the captions in Russian. That way they can show the photos to the twins and know what the photos are.

Some of the other children in Nicholas’ room were very curious about us. May, with hair so blond he almost looked like an albino. Beautiful Lidia. She’s not available for adoption because her father won’t release his parental rights. But he doesn’t make enough money for the state to let him have her. Alena, whose American family is coming to meet her next week. The little boy we saw for a moment in our video. Severely crossed eyes. I think he was also retarded. He just ran and leapt into Mike’s arms.

All too soon it was time to go. I had a much easier time leaving Nicholas, knowing he’s in a place where people care about him. A clean place, with lots of toys and other kids to play with.

Must say, I do wonder what they do with the clothes we bring to donate. The kids are all dressed in rags. Nicholas was wearing tights (with a hole in one butt cheek, the one he tends to scoot around on). No diaper. No underpants. An old faded plaid shirt.

Many of the kids had on crude one-piece overalls that tie at the shoulders. And I think the nurses knit socks when the babies sleep. They’re all wearing the same heavy knit socks that are so stretched out they are falling off.

Next they took us to the notary’s office to sign the paperwork to petition the court to adopt Nicholas and Elena. They tell us we should expect to be back in six weeks – early April.

Anna and Luba dropped us and Bob and Kelly off at a nearby restaurant that claims to serve Russian and European food. I guess being thrown into a situation like this makes you immediate friends. It’s been good to have someone to laugh with, to keep your mind from dwelling on the sad. Have learned she’s 30. Both work in IT. Married about two years ago. Live in Oak Ridge, N.J. Say they’d like to do this again in a year or so. Recurring laugh has been a phone call Bob got at 2:15 one morning. Woman said she wanted him to “talk English” to her. Had a few beers. Listened to the band (two guys playing piano and guitar). Walked home.

On the way back one of the highlights of the trip. After days of watching from our window as people walked across the North Dvina river, took a walk on the ice ourselves (joked we can tell the kids we walked on water to get them). As we walked the narrow snow packed path, watched a boat (a fishing boat, we think) break it’s way through. When we got to that point, they had stretched some wooden planks and pallets across the ice floes to make a path to the other side. Mike and I walked across and got accosted by a group of drunk Russian men with a horse and a sled. We think they were trying to sell us a ride to the other side. “Ya-ne-pa-ne-ma-you.” I don’t understand.

February 14
Plane out this morning early. Had to meet Anna at 5:40. In the air on our way back to Moscow at 7:10.

Flight full of Russian business men. Fifteen years ago that would have been an oxymoron. Now so much has changed. Older man behind us on the place very drunk. Kept calling out to someone sitting in the front of the plane. “Andalusha. Andalusha.”

Even though I had no idea what he was saying it was clear he was being rude to the flight attendants. And it wasn’t even 7:30 in the morning.

Irena and Alex (are all drivers in Russia named Alex?) met us at the airport and took us sight seeing.

Finally got to see Lenin’s tomb. Follow the chain. When you come out, follow the red brick Kremlin walls. She’ll meet us at the other end of the square. Kind of erie. Russian guards every few feet, and here we are two Americans going down into the sacred underground tomb of the most revered of Russia’s Communist leaders.

I can see why some think he’s been replaced with a wax figure. So perfect, yet so pale. The light shining down like a halo illuminating his face. Lower body covered in a blanket, hands gently placed at the top. I read you must keep moving (although I don’t know if that’s enforced now – used to be Russians would wait for hours and hours for their precious seconds in the crypt. It was almost like a religious pilgrimage). One guard did have to tell Mike to take his hands out of his pockets. Pantomime. We walked right in, shared the experience with just one other couple. No talking. No cameras. Follow the proper path (we accidentally got off the path and were quickly set right). In a sense it was kind of scary. But a once-in-a-lifetime experience. And may not even be that for too much longer. I read in a tour book that some say he should finally be buried.

Talking to Irena interesting. So far she’s mentioned Peristroyka twice. Keeps saying a lot has changed since. Tomorrow is St. Valentines Day. They didn’t celebrate that here until just recently. Same with all the casinos. They too have grown like crazy in the years since.

And really took notice in our days here. U.S. chains with operations here: Hallmark, Pizza Hut, McDonalds, Sabarro, TGI Friday’s, etc.

Irena did give us a little insight into her. She has an 8-year-old son. She’s married to a banker, who called while we were changing money to make sure it was OK that he bought her a Valentine’s Day gift. She said the holiday is so new that people don’t know what to do. Her dad even called her to see what he should do for the day. She’s been to Lenin’s tomb, but didn’t want to go today (she held our cameras, and a camera for another couple who wanted to go through). She just recently returned from vacation in India. Beautiful blue sky. Warm. Said she wasn’t happy to come home to the dirty snow and cold of Moscow.

In our last meeting with Anna and Luba yesterday they said they might file our petition to adopt as early as today.

February 14
We leave the hotel in an hour. I think the only time we saw the sky was when we were in the air. Facing every day knowing we are one day closer to coming back.

Continue to be unhappy with our U.S. representative from the agency. We learned from Kelly that our representatve is leaving the agency. Don’t know when. And after telling us she would call every other day, we only heard from her once. And that was before we had been to the hospital to meet Elena.

Onboard the plane
There are four babies on the plane with us. Natalia is 3-and-a-half. Anna is 13-months-old. Two boys. So far no crying. All the babies have a similar look on their faces – fear. Eyes wide. Catatonic. The orphan babies are easy to identify. Next time that will be us.

I have been thinking recently that when we started this process I was somewhat disappointed that I didn’t get pregnant. I really thought I wanted to experience a baby growing inside of me. But now, now I wouldn’t dream of having children any other way. What we’re doing is so the perfect thing fo rus. I so much like th eidea of rescuing two children with little hope.

Arkhangel’sk orphanage houses 150 kids between the ages of 0 and 4. Which means they have an average of 30 kids in each age group. Dr. P. said last year they sent 15 kids to the older kids’ orphanage. Which means at best these kids have a one in two chance of getting a family. 50-50.

I’m still amazed at all the signs of capitalism all over Moscow. Adds on TV for Lay’s Potato Chips. A massive TV screen mounted on a building just off Red Square. Vendors approaching you in the Kremlin to sell you military pins, fur hats, stamps.

I wish I paid more attention to what was going on here in the early ‘90s. I had no idea what a major change it was. Communist party outlawed (as we drove out of town workers were raising a huge banner celebrating the 10th anniversary of the new Communist party). Money revalued in ’97-98.

Chapter 5 -- The wait

2006-04-11T17:30:00.000-07:00

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.

Chapter 6 -- Second trip and beyond

2006-04-11T17:07:00.000-07:00

April 20
Sky over Eastern Europe

Should land in about an hour. Didn’t sleep much, but then I doubt I would have slept much in my own bed, with my own pillow. Too excited.

Actually caught myself thinking: “Should be home in about an hour.”

April 21 -- Moscow
Almost didn’t get to the hotel. Plane took off late, strong head wind delayed us even more. We were the last off the plane because our bags were stowed at the back of the plane. Took us a long time through immigration and customs. Coordinator said all the other passengers from our flight long gone when she asked at the counter if we were onboard and agents told her we hadn’t been on the plane. She was about to leave when Mike found her.

Spoke with a woman on the plane. She and her husband traveling to adopt a 3-year-old boy. Second child, second trip. They actually got the referral more than a year ago. But there were problems with his paperwork. Agency actually asked if they wanted to release the referral and pursue a different child. I was such a basket case after nine weeks. I can’t imagine what I would have been like after more than 50 weeks.

I can’t believe the weather this time. We actually have the windows open. It’s like a crisp fall evening – blue sky, light clouds.

From my bed I can see a horizon of churches. But one – the Church of Christ the Redeemer – stands way above the crowd. It’s white stone, gold domes towers over the rest of the skyline. Subtle lights from below make it appear to glow in the night. Light extends from the corner stone to the gold gild of the onion domes. So beautiful.

As we sat in the window tonight I asked Mike if he ever imagined 20 years or so ago that one day he’d be in Russia to adopt twins.

“No.”

“Did you ever think about being a parent?”

“Not until you mentioned it on Mother’s Day.”

And here we are. Every day is one day closer. And today there is only one day left. I’m not sure I really believed this day would ever get here.

April 22 -- Arkhangel’sk
1:30 a.m. Eight hours. They pick us up in eight ours to go to the orphanage. We’ll take them with us. They’ll never go back.

There are two cribs in our room already. I keep going to them and peeking in, imagining what they’ll look like with two babies tucked in and asleep.

8:57 a.m. Meeting Anna and Luba in the lobby in half an hour. They tell us we’ll pick up the babies, go to the grocery store and then come back to the hotel. At some point they’ll pick us up to get passport photos taken.

2 p.m. Elena is napping in the next room. Nicholas is still fighting it. It’s been quite a day for them.

Actually, it’s been quite a day for us too.

We arrived at the orphanage shortly after 9 this morning. There are two other families with us, one is adopting a little girl who lives with Nicholas and Elena, the other adopting a 14-month-old boy.

Caretakers brought the other two children to the director’s office. Soon the director motioned to us to follow him. He took us to the twins’ room.

A nurse was dressing Nicholas.

But Elena wasn’t there. And no one spoke English so we couldn’t find out what was going on. In my mind we were back in February, there must be something wrong with our daughter again. And we had no idea what was going on.

Minutes later Elena toddled into the room. It was the first time we saw her walk on her own. Her first steps for us.

Nicholas also stood up and took a couple of steps. I didn’t think he’d be walking. My guess is he’s only been walking a very short time – maybe days or weeks. 21 months and just now walking. I think that should scare me. I know from my reading that on average kids take their first steps when they are 12- to 14-months-old. Most walk by the time they are 18-months-old. But I also understand that they say that for every three months a child spends in an institution they will likely be one month behind. Which means our children are developmentally 14-months-old – the exact age when most kids start walking.

We tried to put them in for their nap at 1 p.m. Lina laid right down. But Nicholas started crying.

Mike and I agreed we would give them five minutes, then we’d take turns going in every five minutes to try to settle them down.

After about four minutes I looked at Mike and said: “Are they laughing?”

We peeked in and they were both standing up pulling the drapes open, looking out and laughing. They were obviously making each other happy. It was the first time we heard Elena laugh. We knew they had to take a nap, but we couldn’t stop them. The laughs were infectious. And we just had to watch, take video.

I can tell we’re really going to enjoy watching them together, hearing them laugh at each other.

11 p.m. They’re both asleep now in their cribs.

For dinner tonight we took them to the bar here in the hotel. Our first dinner out together.

Pickings slim. I have a feeling the bar is better at serving vodka than food. Ended up ordering boiled sausages (really just hot dogs) and a cheese omlet. The kids insisted on eating everything. Basically Mike and I will live tonight on Pringles and cheese in the room.

Nicholas had his first temper tantrum tonight at the restaurant. He just wanted to keep eating, even when the food was gone and he had eaten everything there was. Makes me wonder if he got enough to eat in the orphanage. He was the smallest one in the group. Makes me wonder if survival of the fittest affected how much food the kids got.

April 24
I’m realizing I’m never going to be able to write everything I want to write. There just isn’t time.

But here are some observations from today:

Nicholas likes to sleep on his back. Arms either by his side or bent at the elbow and under his head. Elena prefers to sleep curled up on her right side.

Spent a lot of today playing in the room. Elena loves the stacking cups. If they get out of order, she knows exactly which ones to take out and put it all back together. Our little engineer.

Nicholas loves the beach ball. He’s still learning how to walk, but when it comes to the ball he seems to know exactly what to do. He may always be a little guy, but I imagine he’s going to be interested in sports.

Gave them their first bath today.

Elena tends to like adventures, so we thought she’d love the bath.

So, since I had already taken a massively disgusting diaper (Nicholas) and a first temper tantrum (Nicholas), Mike offered me Lena for the bath.

She hated it.

The whole time she sobbed pitiful sobs. I felt so awful. All that just so I thought my daughter was clean. Was it really worth it?

Of course, Nicholas loved it. Just my luck.

We had to leave them with the baby sitter while we went to the ministry of education to be briefed on tomorrow’s court appearance. Tatiana started out barking questions at us, and we kept getting the answers wrong. But in the end she basically told us what to say.

I spent the evening in the hotel business center writing both of our statements. I just hope we get it right.

Court time is 2 p.m. tomorrow. We’ve been told we need to be there by 1:45.

I know there’s n o reason for us to worry. I know that people don’t get to this point if they aren’t going to be approved in court. But I still can’t help but be nervous.

There were some other memorable moments from today:

It was a little after noon. I was thinking about lunch. I may have even said something, but I doubt Nicholas and Elena could have heard it, or understood it. But yet Elena went right over to he r stroller, dug out a bib and came to the middle of the room, holding it up as if to say “I’m ready.” Then she went and got Nicholas’ bib and he dipped his head for someone to snap it around his neck.

Then tonight we took all the kids to the hotel restaurant. Russians like to talk and drink before eating, and the restaurant served in the Russian style. So we waited more than an hour and a half for our meal. Well, it was a bit much for the kids, so we all got up and walked around with them. At one point the music started and Alena came over to Elena, they joined hands and started dancing. So sweet. And it was obvious they had done this together in the orphanage.

April 25
Positive decision!

We knew we’d get it. We knew court was really just a formality. But we were nervous none the less. But now it’s done and today will forever be Adoption Day for Nicholas Peter and Elena Marie Finneran!

Tatiana and Anna prepared us well. We both knew exactly what to say. Judge Uden. Younger man. Black robe, dark brown hair. Very Russian. Sometimes during Mike’s statement it seemed like he wasn’t paying attention. But truth is he had already read everything in our documents.

And truth is he had probably already made his decision, even written it up before we appeared in court. There’s just no way he wrote a two-page ruling in the six minutes he was out of the courtroom.

Judge Uden did ask Mike several questions. Most now a blur. But I did try to listen to what he said, to see if I could pick out any words.

I did hear a couple. “Toh-ahl-Yet.” “KAH-kant.” Toilet. Poop. All the while Judge Uden is snickering. He wanted to know how Mike would handle toilet training. He noted that in the Russian culture they don’t use diapers as long as Americans. “Maybe one year, maybe one year and a half.”

The judge just kept asking Mike questions. And I was just sitting there worrying that the longer it took, the less likely we’d get a decision today. We had been told we had to be done in an hour or we might not get our decision until Monday. I don’t think I could stand that.

And all the judge’s questions had me wondering what he was going to ask me.

My turn. I read what I had written. Then it was my turn for questions. The questions all seemed to revolve around what I could know about raising kids if I didn’t have any kids. Truth is, who knows anything, who’s really prepared? No one. But stupider people than I have been able to figure it out. But I don’t think the judge would have appreciated that answer.

Then everyone else had their moment.

Luba, the head nurse at the orphanage and our adoption coordinator, urged the judge to grant us a positive decision. She noted that the twins’ mother never visited them, that the last time she saw them was when she left the hospital after giving birth. Luba said she also spoke to the twins’ maternal grandparents, and they didn’t want the kids either. So sad.

Tatiana also spoke on our behalf, as did the lawyer representing Nicholas and Elena and the prosecutor, who represents the state. All spoke in favor of our petition. All asked the judge to give us a positive decision and to waive the 10 day waiting period usually required by law.

There were a few more formalities and then the judge took a break to consider the matter. Anna barely had time to go out for a smoke when the judge came back in and read his decisions:

Positive decision on our petition to adopt Igor and Lina and change their names to Nicholas Peter and Elena Marie.

Positive decision to waive the 10-day waiting period and profice the written adoption decree by the end of the day.

Mike cried. I think it’s the first and only time I’ve seen him cry.

I can’t believe that at just after 3:30 Moscow Standard Time I became a mom, twice.

Everyday I see a difference in Nicholas and Elena. They’re getting used to us. We’re getting used to them. They are so similar, and yet so very different.

Nicholas has his peaks and valleys. He’s the easiest to make laugh. I think he would be happy to lie on the floor and let you tickle his belly for hours. And his laugh is infectious. You just can’t help but smile when you hear it. But he’s also the quickest to have a temper tantrum.

Elena is very even keel. She laughs and smiles sometimes. But it isn’t easy, it isn’t long. She’s also a bit of a bully. She’ll take Nicholas’ cookie, push him around, even sit on him to get what she wants.

I’m also noticing a change in the way they react to us. At first they were OK with us, but they didn’t really want us touching them. But now they come over to us, arms outstretched to be picked up. Or they’ll come over just to sit in our laps or lie down next to us. And tonight Elena gave me her first kiss.

I have gotten both of them to say “mama.” Of course, they don’t yet know what that means. But they will.

Elana and Mike took a nap today. I hung out with Nicholas. He was in such a good mood. We spent the time on the floor together. I kept saying “mama” and pointing to myself. And by the end of 90 minutes he would say “mama” and look at me or come to me. Wow.

So far I think we’re doing well bonding with the twins. We’re not chasing them around trying to get them to love us. We’re just here, doing loving things for them. And we’re mostly letting them come to us when they’re ready.

Tonight after the bath Mike and I laid down on the floor and Nicholas and Elena took turns coming to us, laying on us, crawling on us, smiling and laughing. Such a change from the first night, when they really didn’t want us touching them.

We went this morning to get their new birth certificates. While we waited for the paperwork to be complete, Anna and Luba took us to see the hospital where the twins were born. So scary looking. Wonder how the building is still standing. They were there from birth (July) until September of that year.

Then they showed us the home where Nicholas and Elena’s mother was living when she was pregnant. Third floor, rundown apartment. Young girl, maybe 6 or 7, peeking out of a nearby window. She was wearing a sleeveless T-shirt, hair unbrushed, looking out a dirty window. I can’t help but imagine that could have been Elena.

April 27
We had our last meeting with Dr. Pavlov today. He said they have 85 children in need of a home right now. Finances not good in Russia, it’s less likely a Russian family will come along for most of these kids. Appealed to us to tell our friends to come back for a brother or sister.

Was disturbed today to learn that the orphanage ties kids arms to their sides like a straight jacket when they sleep. Nurses said they did that so the kids wouldn’t dig at their teeth while they slept. I imagine they think they are doing what they think is right.

April 28
Uneventful day. Anna and Luba spent the day trying to get our passports done. So we were stranded at the hotel. We’re all going crazy here.

I took Nicholas and Elena to lunch by myself today. I’m proud of myself. I managed pretty well. They split a plate of meat patty, mashed potato and a pickled and shredded Russian-style salad.

Amazing to me the change in Nicholas and Elena over the last five days. For the first four days they fought the nap. Today at nap time Elena took my hand and lead me into the bedroom to her crib. And then she laid down in her crib and handed me the blanket to cover her.

Everyone is getting stir crazy. Today all three guys spent nap time down at the hotel bar drinking Baltika. Later moms and kids joined them and we took over the place. The kids played in the corner while the adults shared some beers.

Tonight the walk along the Dvina River came alive. Seemed everyone had come out for an evening stroll. Everyone in fabulous matching coats, hats, gloves, scarves. And everyone with a Baltika in their hands.

Anna and Luba brought in champagne for us all to toast. Before leaving Luba asked if we wanted to know about their mother. Said Oksana looked like Elena. She was Luba’s height (short, maybe 5’2” or 5’4”). Luba said she didn’t smoke or drink during her pregnancy.

I don’t know whether to believe them. Part of me wonders if they said that because they think it’s what we want to hear. But it’s also all we have.

April 30 -- Moscow
What a day. Up early to catch the flight back to Moscow then ran all over town on official business. On top of that, my cold is getting worse. And now I have pink eye. Good thing is you don’t need prescriptions for lots of things here. We just went to the pharmacy and our coordinator told them what I needed.

One of the things they gave me was an eye wash. But I wasn’t sure how to make it. The white powder came in little glass bottles and we couldn’t figure out how to get it out without getting glass in it. Ah well. He also suggested an inhaler to calm my throat irritation. I couldn’t quite figure that out either.

This morning the wake up call came at 3:30 a.m. Mike and I were ready. And we preformed our mission – to get the kids changed, dressed and in their strollers without waking them up – perfectly. Too bad we had the time wrong and we were exactly one hour early. But the time we got back down to the lobby an hour later they were wide awake.

Flight uneventful. They fussed a bit at being restrained in the seats. But I thought the air pressure would really bother them. After all, it’s much worse on Aeroflot than on American-based airlines. But Lena was laughing as we landed.

Irena was 30 minutes late. Kids slept in their strollers as we waited. Then off to the photo office for visa photos.

Next to Russian doctor. Stripped Nicholas first. Said again yes, he is small. But he was born premature. And new diet will help him catch up. Still has slight heart murmer. Doctor says he’ll grow out of that. And he’s teething (which explains why he’s always drooling). Overall healthy.

Lena didn’t cry like her brother. But she had that “I don’t think I’m going to like this” look in her eye. Doctor said her cough is left over from the bronchitis (three months ago?) Give her antihistamine like Benadryl. Told him already am. May have asthema, allergies. Stay away from red colored fruits and veggies and bananas. Claimed again that’s what the red scaley cheeks are from. We didn’t tell him they they’ve improved since we started putting diaper cream on her cheeks.

Back in the room by 2. I was so tired that I napped for an hour or more while Mike played with the kids right here in the room.

Had an early dinner and put the kids to bed at 7, an hour early. They fell asleep in less than 5 minutes; a lot faster than I thought they would in the new surroundings.

The last things we need to do are to go to the consulate and embassy Monday. We spend the next four days touring Moscow. It’s a four-day holiday. May Day. All offices closed.

May 1
Today our coordinator was sick. So she sent Anna (they pronounce it “Anya”). Went to Gorky Park. Basically just strolled the babies, enjoyed the amusement park atmosphere, had some lunch and left. But after nine or so days cooped up in hotel rooms, it was great to get some fresh air, sunlight and walk.

Afterwards went to get some coffee with Anna. I’d guess she’s in her 50s. Believe she said her father-in-law was an ambassador, knew FDR! Talked about how during the revolution her family lost their land, everything they had. Said under the old system the daughter of a peasant lived close to the son of an ambassador. No one looked twice when they married. No class barriers. And everyone had access to an education.

But also under the old system she and her husband were taken in by the KGB for questioning. Apparently their family named appeared in the contact book of a woman who was distributing a banned book. Did they have the book? Yes. Rather than just asking for the book, the KGB searched their entire apartment. Told her husband, an artist, he’d be banned from the galleries. “He sold paintings. He didn’t sell paintings. It didn’t’ matter.”

Also said they were friends with some journalists from other countries. Dutch journalist came to visit one year after Peristroyka. They lived on the 16th floor. Another friend noticed two cars always sitting outside the apartment suddenly. And when the journalist went on the subway, one of the cars followed and one of the guys jumped onto the train as the doors shut and then sat behind them.

Still, it almost seemed she had to think a moment when Mike asked if it was better under old Communism or now. She said now, but with the foot note that the younger people are learning how to work the system.

Back in the room tonight Nicholas had a meltdown that will go down in the record books. Neither Mike nor I knows what started it. But nothing would stop it. And it seemed to escalate no matter what we did. Couldn’t really let him cry it out because we were afraid he would hurt himself. Mike sat with him for about 30 minutes. I fed Lena and took her for a walk. By the time we got back Mike needed a break, so Lena and I sat on the floor and let him sob it out.

Lena noticed he was upset, and that he was missing a sock. So she went and got his sock and sat across from him and tried to put it on him. Then she gave me that look that I’m starting to recognize as “Mommy do it?” So I put his sock on. And then she wanted to take off her socks and have me put them back on her.
Nick finally climbed into my lap and I asked Lena to go get me a book. So cute. Sometimes they can really get on one another. They’ll lean on one another, push one another, etc., just to annoy one another. But I guess they can also help one another.
I now understand the phrase “sleep like a baby.” Once asleep, nothing really wakes these guys up. Noises. Lights. Bumping into the crib. Moving them. They don’t even stir.

May Day.
Was here in the hotel when I heard what I thought sounded like lots of people shouting. Looked out the window. Nothing. Figured it must be construction that seems to be going on all the time here. For some reason I looked out again 10 minutes later. And this time I saw a group of people, maybe 100 or so, marching down the street and coming into view. Before it was over, thousands of people marched past our hotel, every so often punctuated with a logn banner with writing on it. Many of the marchers (I assume they were men, but I couldn’t really see from the room) carried red flags. Anna later said most of the marchers were pentioners, Old Communists. Found it ironic that under the system they were marching to support, they probably wouldn’t be allowed to march.

May 2
Every day is one day closer – to the day we get to finally go home. I am enjoying Moscow. And the babies are being quite the troopers. But I’m really looking forward to going home, introducing them to everyone, establishing a routine.

Today we took a boat ride along the Moscow River. Interesting way to see the city. Went past the first power plant in Moscow.

Anna says she’s been told that the machinery inside hasn’t been updated since it was built.

Lunch at TGI Friday’s. I’d rather not eat at an American restaurant. But everyone wanted to eat here. Had to convince our translators to eat with us. They said no families had ever invited them to share their table.

Mike and I were talking after the kids went to bed. It doesn’t really seem real that they could be ours. Instant 2-year-olds. I imagine they think the same about us. It’ll still take some getting used to. And it won’t feel normal until we’re at home.

Thinking about the President Hotel. All the sudden realized rooms probably wired. I mean, the hotel was built in the early 80s, owned by the government. It’s the place where visiting dignitaries always stay. Wonder if anyone has listened to our conversations. If so, what do they think of us?: Imagine Mike’s dry sense of humor is hard to translate, and even harder to understand if you can’t see his body language. Babies crying for seemingly no reason (did we pinch them? Bite them? We know we didn’t, but do they?). Sometime between 7:30 and 8:15 each night a woman starts talking about her “mostly naked babies.” (I know I’m getting them ready for a bath, but do they?). TV playing news in English (my choice), movies dubbed in Russian (Mike’s choice), cooking shows in Korean (Mike found it, but he claimed he found it for me). The phone rings and we arrange times to be picked up and talk about going to the U.S. Embassy, the Russian Consulate.
I can’t believe this cold is still hanging on. I am so tired of it. But I imagine my defenses are down – stress, weather, time change. Left the U.S. almost two weeks ago with a scratchy throat. By court I had to force my voice to be heard and the next day voice completely gone. And I still can’t shake it.

And today I woke up to discover it was that time of the month. It almost never comes at home, and I wasn’t prepared. So I told Mike I had to go to the store. He offered to go for me, but when I told him I needed feminine products, he let me go.
Stopped at the children’s store on my way back. I wanted to buy the kids lighter jackets. They wanted nearly $30 U.S. for a little jacket that wasn’t that cute. No way. Instead we’ll just dressed them in several layers.

It’s easy to know when Lena is happy – she pulls her arms back, sticks her chest and chin out and runs. It won’t be long before she laughs.

When she’s not sure about something, she gets a look in her eye. Sometimes she shakes her head, tucking in and leading with her chin.

May 3
Another fascinating day with Anna. Went to the flea market. Mostly tourist stuff. But we are tourists and it was fun and interesting. Mike bought a submarine clock. Heavy metal. Winds with a key. They tried to tell him they were made for the submarines and the government had too many. But I doubt that.

I bought several books of Russian folk tales, Christmas ornaments, wooden Russian toys, stone necklaces and my favorite, a rag doll angel to give to Lena in a few years.

Went to lunch at a Russian fast food place. I’ve seen them all over the place. Red awning. Windows decorated with stick-on cartoons of chickens holding knives and forks. Cannibals. I tried to eat a chicken breast (I was really hungry). But it just wasn’t appealing. Slimy. And I’m glad I didn’t eat more. I haven’t felt right ever since.

Today Anna said she thinks they are already losing their Russian language and replacing it with English. Said she’s noticing how they respond to what we say. And that they aren’t responding as much as they used to when she talks to them in Russian.

Talked more with Anna today. She’s the first person here who’s been willing to talk about what it was like in Russia then and now.

Said when she first married, she moved to Moscow to live with her husband’s family. His father a very well-known former ambassador. Durign Stalin rule was convicted of being a spy. Sentenced to 25 years. Was released when Stalin died. When Anna joined the family, her husband’s father had re-married (first wife died in WWII). In the 20-square-meter flat lived Anna, her husband, his father, wife and two kids. And then Anna had the first of three children, a girl.

As a former ambassador, her father-in-law qualified for a larger apartment without waiting in any lines. But he was too proud to ask. And he was depressed. So she wrote a letter to Breshnev. He was their representative. Got called in and asked why father-in-law didn’t fill out the paperwork, why she wrote the letter. In the end they got a larger apartment.

Of course, it makes me feel like an ugly American for complaining about the hotel.

She and her husband now share a 60-square-meter apartment.

Anna also talked about her father. Said during WWII he hid two Jewish children A boy and a girl. Believe she said they were four and six. The father lived on a farm. And the kids played outside, until they heard someone coming. Then they went and hid. At the end of the war, discovered their parents had been killed. Aunts and uncles came and took them. Her father asked her to find them years later. And Anna tried but failed. She said it wasn’t until after Peristroyka that the girl was able to find Anna’s father. She was living in San Francisco. She didn’t know what happened to her brother. He had gone to live with other family members. Anna said years later her father got a medal or something from Israel.

After the flee market and lunch we went to the N. convent. So beautiful (and peaceful). And the weather was perfect – warm in the sun, blue sky. I could’ve walked there for hour among the grave stones, churches, etc. First church there built to commemorate capture of Smolensk. Figure my mom’s family must have some ties there (too much of a coincidence with a maiden name like Smolinske).

May 4
Today raining. Everyone tired. Irena got here at 10 a.m. to do paperwork. Got everything ready for tomorrow. Mike, Lorraine and Alena came over to play for a while. Then we just hung around the room.

Met Mike and Lorraine and Alena for dinner (took a cab to their hotel. $12 there. $21 back!) Still worried about that relationship (and feel bad when we seem to be having a better time dealing with two than they’re having with their one). She’ll go up to my Mike. But if her dad says “so you want to come to papa?” she turns and runs. And I constantly hear the frustration in Lorraine’s voice. “A-lay-NA!” Most telling moment may have been tonight. As we were getting ready to leave, she went to the door, grabbed the handle with both hands and violently tried to rock the door open. Her whole body was involved. And she looked like a little girl terrified of what was inside the room, desperate to get out and not believing that what’s out there could possibly be as bad as what’s in there. Almost as though she was bring chased by wild animals about to eat her up.

Nick has his moments, but I don’t think they compare. But when he gets mad, he gets mad. And there’s no doing anything about it. Mike thinks it’s directed at a person. For example, tonight he got mad at me because after putting them to bed, I went to take a shower. I thought they were asleep, but apparently Nick wasn’t. Well, it got him up and pissed him off. He ended up throwing his stacking cups at the bathroom door. Mike thinks he was throwing them at me. But I don’t. That’s the direction he throws everything. We’ll see in the coming years. But I do agree that he’s going to be our challenge. I wouldn’t be surprised if we have some troubles along the way. Anna and Luba says their mother didn’t drink or smoke. But I wonder about that. And the doctor we consulted said it is possible for only one child in a set of twins to be affected by fetal alcohol syndrome. I guess only time will tell. We’ve only been together 12 days so far.

May 5
Last day in Russia. We were riding with our driver when I realized that today. Tears came to my eyes. I’m going to miss it.

Still, while I have enjoyed my time in Russia, I can’t wait to get home. I’ve never felt so excited to get home from a trip.

Today another lazy day. Nick, Elena and I were napping when our coordinator called and told us to meet her in the hotel lobby in 30 minutes. Off to the U.S. Embassy for visas for the twins. They opened at 2. We were back to the room and the twins were napping again by 3 p.m.

So many babies at the embassy. I think our coordinator said 22 today.
Alena, the blond who shared her room in the orphanage with the twins. She has an older brother waiting for her in Maryland.
Daniel, with the mop of golden brown hair.

Alona, the tiny beautiful girl from St. Petersburg. Eyes so big I have to wonder if she’ll grow into them. Born premature at just over 2 pounds. She’s going to live in Connecticut.
3 1/2-year-old Gregory, who had a tape measure and was measuring everything.
Katherine, probably a little over a year old. She was practicing her walking in her pink slipper socks.

The 14-month-old towhead boy being adopted by a single mom traveling with her parents. He was so big he dwarfed little Nicholas.

The little boy with the double cleft palete. Here they don’t have the money to do the surgery on orphans. My guess is he’ll see a doctor to get it fixed within days of his return home. It warms my heart.

May 7 -- Newport News, Virginia
Finally home. Got in at about 9 p.m. EDT last night. Nicholas and Elena became U.S. citizens as soon as we landed in New York.

Nicholas and Elena were up nearly all of the trip home. Maybe they slept two hours. The cross-Atlantic flight was the longest 10 hours of my life. I probably spent half of it holding a child and rocking back by the flight attendants.
They did great when we landed in Norfolk. People everywhere. Grandparents times two. Uncle. Aunt. Cousins. Friends. And their body clock thought it was 5 a.m. and they hadn’t slept at all.

They just wanted to be with us. Just about everyone else freaked them out. But I had Lena, and she kept looking at me and hugging my neck. I could never have imagined how wonderful that would be.

I talked several times to a religious man on the plane. He lives in Moscow, but was traveling to D.C. on business. Said he makes this trip often and sees lots of families bringing their adopted children home. He told me it was obvious Lena had bonded to us, the way she would put her head on my chest, the way she looked at me. He said he’s seen lots of these orphan kids. And he doesn’t always see that between the children and their new parents.

May 11
It all started one year ago today. One year ago today I walked up to Mike and said “maybe we should adopt.”
One year later – today – my dream came true. My first Mother’s Day.

One Last Word

2006-04-11T16:01:00.000-07:00

Nicholas and Elena have been home for almost a year now. I can't believe how quickly the first year went.

At least once a day Nicholas comes to me and asks to watch his favorite video on T.V.

“Bears?” he says, one hand outstretched toward the television.

“Bears, please?” I correct.

“Bears, please!” He mimics.

What he calls “Bears” is actually an opening skit of an episode of Sesame Street that I taped off the air one morning. It opens with Baby Bear – from the storybook classic “The Three Bears” – helping Mama Bear run some errands.

“She needs my help carrying things these days because she’s pregnant,” Baby Bear says to the camera. “That means a baby is growing inside her not-so-wee little belly,” Baby Bear says

But when Baby Bear realizes this new baby is going to mean changes for the Bear family, he announces he doesn’t want his new brother or sister to turn the storybook-classic “The Three Bears” into “The Four Bears.”

“I like being an only child. I never have to share, my parent’s love, with anyone. This just doesn’t seem fair. I want us to be a perfect family, no other kid but me. Only one-two-three we’re as happy as can be – a perfect family,” he sings.

But Mama Bear has a different idea:

“What makes us perfect is the love we share. And parents have lots of love to give. We’ll still have love like we did before, but when baby makes four we’ll have even more. We’ll always be a perfect family. Adding one more to our three, means more love for you and me. … And when baby makes four they’ll be even more. And we’ll always be a perfect family.”

Finally Baby Bear agrees and he gets excited about becoming a big brother. Which is when Mama Bear's contractions start.

“Come here Baby Bear,” Mama Bear says as they get ready to drive off. “The next time I see you, you’ll be a big brother.”

In good all-inclusive Sesame Street, that skit is followed by a song talking about all the different types of families.

“Any group of people, living together and loving each other is living in a family.”

Throughout it all my son Nicholas stands in the middle of the livingroom, thumb in his mouth, staring at the TV. I am convinced he is trying to figure out how his family fits this story. It's like he somehow understands that he didn't start out in my tummy but somewhere else. He'll watch this episode over and over again trying to rectify his beginnings with the storybook beginnings.

And it's just in time. I'm pregnant.

(Gregory Michael was born 12/1/04 by emergency C-Section.)