Blame Harry Potter and soul melting heat for the long pause in this story. Dear Wiring in my house, please pull yourself together and run more then two air conditioners!
I'll say this about our court hearing. It was almost anti-climatic... and then there was this strange business with the head doctor asking us for a ride to her house (which we were happy to do) with... a cat. The cat thing didn't bother either of us (obviously) but it turned into a thing, the translator was overexplaining everything, and well. Seriously. We didn't mind. ( She found the cat in her building, but she is allergic so she couldn't keep it. So she brought it to work with her, and then her neighbor said she would keep the cat). Then, the head doctor took one look at our (very nice, very good) driver and wouldn't get in the car. (He's a big guy who might take a more relaxed approach to hygiene, but seriously, a great guy). It was odd, and a little distracting, and then we had to run around to register (all tourists must register with the government, and since we weren't staying in a hotel it required more leg work).
It was an awesome day though, and the feel and smell of the courtroom, along with the judges voice is imprinted in my brain. That day when we were really unmistakeably recognized as parents.
The ten-day waiting period was not waived, which we were actually glad for. It would give us all more time to get to know one another. To sit around and check each other out-- and then go our separate ways and consider everything.
So everyday we would visit for about two hours, and take him outside (except for one stormy day). Generally, we would have one excellent day (lots of laughing and smiling) and then two days of polite distance. The moment that I carry around with me though is the first time I held out my arms and he walked to me with his arms out. I teared up (naturally) and buried him in kisses.
On the eleventh day (the day after my 28th birthday!) we went and picked him up for keeps. I was a ball of nerves, and suddenly overcome with incredible guilt. I was so sad about how scared he would be, and also how happy sad his caretakers (and one very special one in particular) would feel to see him go, and know that they would never see him again. It is an intense bond that I felt with them, they have, after all, cared and loved him everyday until this day.
I was having flashbacks to our last day in April. I was trying not to cry, but I failed. Our favorite caretaker grabbed my arms and said to me (in Russian, but I somehow understood) "Please stop, you'll make me cry too." Pictures were taken and Spaseeba Bolshoi (Thanks very much) and Dasvidanya were shouted. And then he was ours.
He threw up on me in the car on the way home, he was scared, had a full stomach, and Moscow traffic was living up to its reputation. Boiled Cabbage. I hate boiled cabbage, and he happened to get my last set of clean clothes (it was laundry day!). He had a cold, and a black eye... and he smelled of puke, but he was still gorgeous and perfect. (How exactly he got a black eye is still a mystery, I'm sure he just fell into something).
There is so much more I could say here, but this is so long.
I would say that the time we had custody of him in Moscow (almost two weeks) was so important. We saw him change from the big baby he was in the baby home to the rambunctious, curious, on the go toddler. He started babbling constantly, he was looking at us and trying to tell us how things should go, he was beginning to understand who we are.
We became a very tight family unit in those days, and it probably helped make the flight more bearable. (This would be totally horrifying for the other passengers to hear since he was not exactly a model citizen on the plane).
OK. Break time.
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