I'm having a hard time actually writing about something that is really bothering me. I read all of these other blogs, and these kids are talking up a storm after just a few months home, or at least have a few words. To date, the monkey still has no words. Don't get me wrong, his receptive language has improved considerably, he understands almost everything we ask him, he communicates with signs and pointing, he is starting to make very important connections with his language, but no words. He mumbles Mama alot, but it isn't me, he kind of yells eh-oh when he sees Elmo. Here is what bothers me. I think it must be something I am doing wrong. I feel like I am failing him. Maybe I don't talk enough? I feel like I label everything, I feel like I have nothing else that I could be saying to him, but maybe I'm just wrong?
This is really difficult. I always joke that motherhood is really guilthood, but seriously.
We have two early intervention people come twice a week, one is for language, the other is an occupational therapist. They have been very encouraging to me (because clearly I wear my feelings on my sleeve). They are very sure that there is no cognitive delay here, that he is simply learning, and that he is doing well at that. (I should add here that in my eyes he is brilliant, and his only downfall is me).
Part of all of this is how tired I am. My depression, that I've been dealing with for the past 13 years worsens with the staying inside and shorter days of winter. In the past, I've just trudged through from November to May, waiting for the sun and not getting much done-- but it is really unfair to inflict this on Monkey. My biggest fear about becoming a mother was that I would be the Mommy who took a lot of naps, and cried all the time. I am holding steady away from that, but I am exhausted. I am still the happiest I have ever been, but my patience is much shorter, and my wits end always seems much closer. I am avoiding medication, I have done them all-- and Ritalin actually worked for me, but I am too paranoid about our future adoptions and having to get a "She's not THAT crazy" letter from a doctor, which I know people do, and are successful in their adoptions. However, did I mention my feelings of deep shame that I feel like this? That I feel like I should be able to fix this? That I have always fought this privately, and that when you adopt everything that was once private becomes public? I never want to have look at a Judge and listen to a translation of "No, really, I'm fine, it's all good now." I am achy and I have odd pains (Like today my eyeball hurts. Hello?! My eyeball, are you kidding me? How do you even convey to your eyeball to get the fuck over it?), it makes it harder to exercise, to eat right, to make an effort.
So maybe I don't talk enough. About anything. In the meantime I will listen to my parents as they insist that The Boy just explained The Oprah Factor in Obama's Campaign, and give all of us some more time.
Showing posts with label adoption. Show all posts
Showing posts with label adoption. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
Monday, August 20, 2007
Selection
There has been a lot of debate on various blogs about gender selection, which is a major issue in international and domestic adoption. There are many many statistics out there that back-up the claim the Americans who are adopting want girls for various reasons. I'm not going to link to the blogs, and chats that have brought me to write about it-- I'm not trying to fan a fire, I just want to get something off my chest.
Look, here's the thing, when we filled out our form we wrote no preference in the gender box. We did this with every intention of having a son. We wouldn't have minded a daughter (obviously), but we did our homework, and knew that a boy was much more likely. I should add that I have always pictured having three sons, and I don't feel the least bit guilty about that. Nor do I think I should feel guilty--the same way that I think that people who choose a daughter because they want a daughter shouldn't feel guilty.
I think what is bothering me about this debate-- and the judgement that is implied, that by picking a girl you want a doll-- is that one of the facts about adoption is that is a unique opportunity to have more choice about who precisely your family is. Before we get to the baby- shopping-finger-pointing of the episode, let me say that I don't think ANYONE makes any of these choices lightly. I feel the sting of this kind of debate, because while no one comes right out and says "Oh, you wanted a WHITE baby", often there is a heavy silence where it rings loud and clear that that is what some people think. (Seriously, don't people realize how massive and diverse Russia is? It is not the land of only the blond haired, and blue eyed).
The thing is, I feel, that people are much more confident in calling each other sexist outright, instead of racist. I live in a very liberal place, where people are supposed to be open and accepting to a fault. However, this acceptance can often wrap back around itself and this same quality can be expressed as horrible intolerance. Our reasons are are own business, and are not always so obvious.
Adoption is HARD. We did not just run into Target and pick out our son. We did serious soul-searching to figure out how WE were going to be the best parents that we are capable of being. We know why we chose Russia, and we had prepared ourselves for all the possibilities the best that we could. It so happens that people comment on how much Monkey looks like my husband, that is how this adoption happened, who knows who our second child will be? Our agency only allows preferences for gender, age, and special needs, and I feel that these are all fair preferences. When my friends get pregnant, without fail they have all said "I am hoping for a _____." I feel that is natural to have an image in your mind, and the fact about adoption is that these children already exist, and they all need a place to go, family, love, and nurturing.
Encouraging people to really explore their own feelings on a particular subject is a good thing, judging people for decisions that you may not agree with or understand is not fair. Parenthood is a joyful thing, and I just want to hold on to our beautiful boy who was ours before we knew him.
Look, here's the thing, when we filled out our form we wrote no preference in the gender box. We did this with every intention of having a son. We wouldn't have minded a daughter (obviously), but we did our homework, and knew that a boy was much more likely. I should add that I have always pictured having three sons, and I don't feel the least bit guilty about that. Nor do I think I should feel guilty--the same way that I think that people who choose a daughter because they want a daughter shouldn't feel guilty.
I think what is bothering me about this debate-- and the judgement that is implied, that by picking a girl you want a doll-- is that one of the facts about adoption is that is a unique opportunity to have more choice about who precisely your family is. Before we get to the baby- shopping-finger-pointing of the episode, let me say that I don't think ANYONE makes any of these choices lightly. I feel the sting of this kind of debate, because while no one comes right out and says "Oh, you wanted a WHITE baby", often there is a heavy silence where it rings loud and clear that that is what some people think. (Seriously, don't people realize how massive and diverse Russia is? It is not the land of only the blond haired, and blue eyed).
The thing is, I feel, that people are much more confident in calling each other sexist outright, instead of racist. I live in a very liberal place, where people are supposed to be open and accepting to a fault. However, this acceptance can often wrap back around itself and this same quality can be expressed as horrible intolerance. Our reasons are are own business, and are not always so obvious.
Adoption is HARD. We did not just run into Target and pick out our son. We did serious soul-searching to figure out how WE were going to be the best parents that we are capable of being. We know why we chose Russia, and we had prepared ourselves for all the possibilities the best that we could. It so happens that people comment on how much Monkey looks like my husband, that is how this adoption happened, who knows who our second child will be? Our agency only allows preferences for gender, age, and special needs, and I feel that these are all fair preferences. When my friends get pregnant, without fail they have all said "I am hoping for a _____." I feel that is natural to have an image in your mind, and the fact about adoption is that these children already exist, and they all need a place to go, family, love, and nurturing.
Encouraging people to really explore their own feelings on a particular subject is a good thing, judging people for decisions that you may not agree with or understand is not fair. Parenthood is a joyful thing, and I just want to hold on to our beautiful boy who was ours before we knew him.
Monday, August 13, 2007
The End, or rather an end.
Had everything run on its expected course, we should have been able to leave Moscow about 7 days after we got custody. However, there were snafus-- with getting the birth certificate-- which whatever, its boring now. So we didn't get to leave Moscow for almost two weeks after we got custody, which at first didn't bother us. We love Moscow, and we enjoyed our time there. But everything was so much harder with Monkey in tow, and I was sick of the (f$%#ing) electric oven, and buying tomato paste instead of tomato sauce by mistake. It was also super humid, and Muscovites don't really go in for flip-flops and tank tops. Also. I missed my cats-- because I am slightly crazy.
So, when we could leave it was a bit bittersweet. Our flight was at 6 a.m. so we got picked up at 3 a.m. and as we drove through the dark city, and then onto the highway with our Monkey strapped into the snugli on my chest, I felt very sad. This is not the city that he will know like the back of his hand, this is not the place that will be so familiar to him that he takes it for granted. This is where his birth mother lives, and this is where he leaves her for the last time. I am ecstatic about being Monkey's Mama, but I carry Moscow, and his birth mother with me everyday. This has all been exactly the dream that I thought it could be, and I am sure that his birth mother feels that the right things have happened and that her son, our son, is safe and loved, which is all anybody can really ask. I couldn't wait to be home, but sometimes I wish for more compromise.
At the airport, well, shockingly there was another mistake with our tickets. I ask you this, if we bought the ticket as an adoption fare.... how could it be a two-way ticket? So, they wouldn't let us use the ticket we had purchased, since Monkey didn't use the first half of the ticket, because you know he was in RUSSIA you assholes, and we had to buy him another. At 4 a.m., with an already impatient toddler whining away.
So, when we could leave it was a bit bittersweet. Our flight was at 6 a.m. so we got picked up at 3 a.m. and as we drove through the dark city, and then onto the highway with our Monkey strapped into the snugli on my chest, I felt very sad. This is not the city that he will know like the back of his hand, this is not the place that will be so familiar to him that he takes it for granted. This is where his birth mother lives, and this is where he leaves her for the last time. I am ecstatic about being Monkey's Mama, but I carry Moscow, and his birth mother with me everyday. This has all been exactly the dream that I thought it could be, and I am sure that his birth mother feels that the right things have happened and that her son, our son, is safe and loved, which is all anybody can really ask. I couldn't wait to be home, but sometimes I wish for more compromise.
At the airport, well, shockingly there was another mistake with our tickets. I ask you this, if we bought the ticket as an adoption fare.... how could it be a two-way ticket? So, they wouldn't let us use the ticket we had purchased, since Monkey didn't use the first half of the ticket, because you know he was in RUSSIA you assholes, and we had to buy him another. At 4 a.m., with an already impatient toddler whining away.
So, things weren't looking too rosy for the flight to come, and we were not disappointed. He was good for the first leg to London, but then a layover at Heathrow, and well. There was a throw baby from the plane movement afoot on the flight to Boston. It was awful, he just flipped out. He slept all of two hours of 19 hours of travel (door to door), and the English version of Infant Benedryl DID NOT WORK.
He loved take off and landing, and hated everything else. Also, trying to contain a toddler in a small space? BLOWS. In London we were seriously considering just staying there for good, I mean, it would be totally fine, England is a great place.
Finally, finally we landed at Logan, and our boy was officially a citizen (beat his daddy!). And we were home. I almost burst into tears of joy when I saw our ugly airport, and walked through familiar lines and waited at baggage claim.
My brother was there to meet his nephew, and drive us home. He threw up on the ride home, but he loved his new bedroom, and slept for a solid 12 hours.
The cats started packing when they saw what we brought home, but we have convinced them to stay.
So, that is the overview. I have left loads out, and I 'm sure that I will add more to this as time goes on... but for now its time to write about other stuff.
Monday, August 6, 2007
Part Three
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.
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.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Part Two....
(Did you like my little cliffhanger there? I get it from all the Dallas reruns.)
Driving up to the baby home felt very strange, like we had been there just the day before and like we had been there a lifetime ago at the same time. Walking down that long hallway that smells like boiled cabbage, past the head doctor's office, past the kitchen, I was counting the steps, exhilarated by the familiarity, and the person who waited for us upstairs.
Up the stairs, past the painted tree in the stairwell, through two heavy doors, and into his group. He was playing when we walked in, and my husband spotted him first. The caretakers were busy with other kids when we walked in, and so we just stood at the doorway smiling and waving at our boy-- who had come to lean against the gate. He had grown and changed over the last two months, but he was still the baby that we met back in April. His face had lost some of its baby fat, but he still has no chin to speak of, and HUGE (edible) cheeks. I wanted to walk over and scoop him right up, but it was an agonizing 10 minutes before the caregivers handed him over. He was cautious, as always. I carried him outside, ad my husband was laughing at me, saying "He's too heavy for you!" I hoisted him up a couple of inches and said "Not my baby boy!"
We played outside which was really nice-- they have these cabana type things that are full of toys, and two comfy armchairs, he loved it! He was giggling and smiling at us for most of the time.
When it came time to leave he jumped into his caregivers arms, but we took a deep breath and tried to remember that it would get better.
Court Date:
The next morning we got up, and I was once again a nervous wreck. Dear Moscow, you are bad for my stomach. We carefully ironed our shirts (OK, honestly, my husband is the ironer-- so he ironed and I fretted over the spongy mess that my hair had turned into). We put on our suits, and admired our general hotness, and then went off first to the baby home to visit for a while and then court.
Once again our boy was all smiles and giggles-- and very eager to see the caregiver at the end of the two hours.
And then off to court!
Court was much easier then I thought it would be, but it was still a struggle to keep a calm face! When we went in, the state prosecutor was sitting at her desk to the left, and the court secretary (in a skimpy tank top and jeans) sat to the right. We sat on benches behind a podium along with a Social Worker from the baby home, and the Head Doctor. The judge came out, and she was really great. She was obviously very supportive of international adoption. Her smile was warm and not rare-- there was something almost maternal about her. There had been three successful cases that morning (all from our agency), so we felt confident. But as my husband and I have chanted throughout this whole process; it ain't over until it is over.
My husband stood up first with someone from our agency who translated, and answered questions about our house, why we are adopting from Russia, our income, and if our families support this adoption. Rather hilariously, the last questions they ask are "Have you met this child? and "Do you like him?" Guess how we answered?
Then I stood up and answered just a few questions, mostly reiterating what my husband had already said. I was on the edge of tears, about to break down and just beg. I did manage to contain myself though.
Then the head doctor stood up and explained his history, and said that she supported our adoption. Then the social worker (who we had never seen before) stood up and also said she supported our adoption. Then the state prosecutor also said she supported our adoption.
The judge then went into her chambers and about ten minutes later came out and read her decision. When she said "You will be listed as his parents on the birth certificate" my husband and I both bit back the happiest tears that you can imagine. The judge congratulated us on becoming parents, and we shouted "SPASEEBA!" (Thank you) in perfect unison.
To Be Continued....
Driving up to the baby home felt very strange, like we had been there just the day before and like we had been there a lifetime ago at the same time. Walking down that long hallway that smells like boiled cabbage, past the head doctor's office, past the kitchen, I was counting the steps, exhilarated by the familiarity, and the person who waited for us upstairs.
Up the stairs, past the painted tree in the stairwell, through two heavy doors, and into his group. He was playing when we walked in, and my husband spotted him first. The caretakers were busy with other kids when we walked in, and so we just stood at the doorway smiling and waving at our boy-- who had come to lean against the gate. He had grown and changed over the last two months, but he was still the baby that we met back in April. His face had lost some of its baby fat, but he still has no chin to speak of, and HUGE (edible) cheeks. I wanted to walk over and scoop him right up, but it was an agonizing 10 minutes before the caregivers handed him over. He was cautious, as always. I carried him outside, ad my husband was laughing at me, saying "He's too heavy for you!" I hoisted him up a couple of inches and said "Not my baby boy!"
We played outside which was really nice-- they have these cabana type things that are full of toys, and two comfy armchairs, he loved it! He was giggling and smiling at us for most of the time.
When it came time to leave he jumped into his caregivers arms, but we took a deep breath and tried to remember that it would get better.
Court Date:
The next morning we got up, and I was once again a nervous wreck. Dear Moscow, you are bad for my stomach. We carefully ironed our shirts (OK, honestly, my husband is the ironer-- so he ironed and I fretted over the spongy mess that my hair had turned into). We put on our suits, and admired our general hotness, and then went off first to the baby home to visit for a while and then court.
Once again our boy was all smiles and giggles-- and very eager to see the caregiver at the end of the two hours.
And then off to court!
Court was much easier then I thought it would be, but it was still a struggle to keep a calm face! When we went in, the state prosecutor was sitting at her desk to the left, and the court secretary (in a skimpy tank top and jeans) sat to the right. We sat on benches behind a podium along with a Social Worker from the baby home, and the Head Doctor. The judge came out, and she was really great. She was obviously very supportive of international adoption. Her smile was warm and not rare-- there was something almost maternal about her. There had been three successful cases that morning (all from our agency), so we felt confident. But as my husband and I have chanted throughout this whole process; it ain't over until it is over.
My husband stood up first with someone from our agency who translated, and answered questions about our house, why we are adopting from Russia, our income, and if our families support this adoption. Rather hilariously, the last questions they ask are "Have you met this child? and "Do you like him?" Guess how we answered?
Then I stood up and answered just a few questions, mostly reiterating what my husband had already said. I was on the edge of tears, about to break down and just beg. I did manage to contain myself though.
Then the head doctor stood up and explained his history, and said that she supported our adoption. Then the social worker (who we had never seen before) stood up and also said she supported our adoption. Then the state prosecutor also said she supported our adoption.
The judge then went into her chambers and about ten minutes later came out and read her decision. When she said "You will be listed as his parents on the birth certificate" my husband and I both bit back the happiest tears that you can imagine. The judge congratulated us on becoming parents, and we shouted "SPASEEBA!" (Thank you) in perfect unison.
To Be Continued....
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Begin at the Beginning
Part One:
We left on June 16 and arrived in Moscow on June 17 in the middle of a raging thunderstorm. They closed the airport we were supposed to land at, so we were rerouted to the other airport. Then we were held on the ground while British F'n Air decided if we should be allowed to get off the plane, or if they should hold us on this plane until the storm cleared and we could refuel and fly 45 minutes back to the original airport. An hour later, they allowed us to disembark.
By some miracle our translator was waiting for us, and we have never been so happy to see anyone before. It was very late, my husband and I had been traveling for over 16 hours-- and I cannot sleep on planes, all we wanted was to get to the apartment that we had rented. We were also so happy and relieved to be standing in the same city as our little boy. It felt like a homecoming for both of us, especially when the old grey van that we had used for the first trip came roaring up to the curb.
We got into the apartment that we had rented about an hour later, after a quick stop to get some bottled water and crackers to get us through the night. After getting our bags up the stairs, our translator E. told us she'd pick us up at 11 the next morning to go see our boy! As tired as I was I could barely sleep.
The next morning I bolted up and into the shower, and couldn't eat or drink anything because I was so nervous. She picked us up, and we drove the half hour drive to the baby home. It was so amazing being back in Moscow, everything was familliar, and this was so comforting. We didn't know how our boy would react to us, and after nine weeks of waiting on pins and needles, and imagining this moment, well. It'd be hard for anything to live up to our level of anticipation.
to be continued....
We left on June 16 and arrived in Moscow on June 17 in the middle of a raging thunderstorm. They closed the airport we were supposed to land at, so we were rerouted to the other airport. Then we were held on the ground while British F'n Air decided if we should be allowed to get off the plane, or if they should hold us on this plane until the storm cleared and we could refuel and fly 45 minutes back to the original airport. An hour later, they allowed us to disembark.
By some miracle our translator was waiting for us, and we have never been so happy to see anyone before. It was very late, my husband and I had been traveling for over 16 hours-- and I cannot sleep on planes, all we wanted was to get to the apartment that we had rented. We were also so happy and relieved to be standing in the same city as our little boy. It felt like a homecoming for both of us, especially when the old grey van that we had used for the first trip came roaring up to the curb.
We got into the apartment that we had rented about an hour later, after a quick stop to get some bottled water and crackers to get us through the night. After getting our bags up the stairs, our translator E. told us she'd pick us up at 11 the next morning to go see our boy! As tired as I was I could barely sleep.
The next morning I bolted up and into the shower, and couldn't eat or drink anything because I was so nervous. She picked us up, and we drove the half hour drive to the baby home. It was so amazing being back in Moscow, everything was familliar, and this was so comforting. We didn't know how our boy would react to us, and after nine weeks of waiting on pins and needles, and imagining this moment, well. It'd be hard for anything to live up to our level of anticipation.
to be continued....
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
And now begins the hysteria
There is so much stuff right now.
There is the packing, which is looking to be totally impossible. We're planning on being in Moscow for a month. I am suddenly completely stupid about what kids need and don't need. And how do you pack for the constantly changing weather? (Two weeks ago in Moscow it was 90 degrees everyday, now the high is 60, with a low in the 40's. How do I plan for this, without bringing every single piece of clothing that we all own?)
There is the travel arrangements, which have been slightly annoying. We're renting an apartment-- and that has actually been a breeze (yay Peace Travel and Andrei!). However, British Air (which I normally love the way I loved certain boys in high school who never knew my name) is requiring multiple phone calls, and one 52 minute conversation which only ended because I died of old age.
There is also the matter that two of my friends are due to give birth at the end of July/early August-- and my mad scrambling to make sure I see them before I go, so that I can give them their baby gifts.
There is the asbestos removal in the basement, and the ongoing saga of the poorly installed dishwasher. (Who buys a house and adopts in the same 6 month period? We do, silly.)
Ladies and gentlemen, start your engines because the race started already.
There is the packing, which is looking to be totally impossible. We're planning on being in Moscow for a month. I am suddenly completely stupid about what kids need and don't need. And how do you pack for the constantly changing weather? (Two weeks ago in Moscow it was 90 degrees everyday, now the high is 60, with a low in the 40's. How do I plan for this, without bringing every single piece of clothing that we all own?)
There is the travel arrangements, which have been slightly annoying. We're renting an apartment-- and that has actually been a breeze (yay Peace Travel and Andrei!). However, British Air (which I normally love the way I loved certain boys in high school who never knew my name) is requiring multiple phone calls, and one 52 minute conversation which only ended because I died of old age.
There is also the matter that two of my friends are due to give birth at the end of July/early August-- and my mad scrambling to make sure I see them before I go, so that I can give them their baby gifts.
There is the asbestos removal in the basement, and the ongoing saga of the poorly installed dishwasher. (Who buys a house and adopts in the same 6 month period? We do, silly.)
Ladies and gentlemen, start your engines because the race started already.
Sunday, June 3, 2007
The Waiting is the Hardest Part
My husband and I traveled in early April to Moscow to meet our son. When we met him he was 17.5 months old. We left Moscow early on April 10. I can tell you that nothing has ever felt so unnatural and so wrong as when the plane began to taxi down the runway, about to takeoff. We had prepared not to be prepared for how awful the sight of Russia slipping away from us would be-- and we were still not ready.
Leaving him after spending 5 days with him has been surreal, and sometimes so sad that I can't even breathe. I have spent a lot of time with kids, kids that I love, and would walk through fire for. However, I have never felt the way I felt when he cried, that the world was ending, and it was all my fault, and I should be able to fix it. I was immediately his mommy, and I really couldn't fix anything--between the constraints of being in the baby home, and my own ineptitude I was a lost cause. Also-- my mommyhood only applies to the way that I feel about him, not how he feels about me. To him we are funny talking strangers who just wouldn't stop looking at him. I have to earn his love, and show him that I will never leave, and most days I feel like I can do that, and sometimes I go blind with terror even thinking about it.
I know that there are families out there that met their children a year ago, and haven't been able to travel again due to the accreditation mess. I know that the fact that we are on the edge of our seats because it will be any day now, is lucky. Extremely lucky. I know that we have moved through this process with unbelievable speed, we filled out the agency application in November 2006, and we arrived in Moscow on April 4, 2007. I know that when we saw his pictures for the first time, he became our son, and others have not had that clarity. I have not questioned any of our choices, and I know this makes us so lucky. We have only had the best that we could dream for.
I cry. Listen, y'all will know this soon enough, I am a crier. I cry with the happy, the sad, the mad, the frustrated and the tired. (Essentially, I am the Statue of Liberty of crying). So I cry myself to sleep quite a bit, because I know that he has already started another day without us, and that we are ending another day without him.
We have our visas, I am making lists, what to bring, what needs to be done while I am there and my husband is here, I am trying to stock the freezer so he'll eat well without me.
I am trying to breathe in, breathe out, kiss my son goodnight.
Leaving him after spending 5 days with him has been surreal, and sometimes so sad that I can't even breathe. I have spent a lot of time with kids, kids that I love, and would walk through fire for. However, I have never felt the way I felt when he cried, that the world was ending, and it was all my fault, and I should be able to fix it. I was immediately his mommy, and I really couldn't fix anything--between the constraints of being in the baby home, and my own ineptitude I was a lost cause. Also-- my mommyhood only applies to the way that I feel about him, not how he feels about me. To him we are funny talking strangers who just wouldn't stop looking at him. I have to earn his love, and show him that I will never leave, and most days I feel like I can do that, and sometimes I go blind with terror even thinking about it.
I know that there are families out there that met their children a year ago, and haven't been able to travel again due to the accreditation mess. I know that the fact that we are on the edge of our seats because it will be any day now, is lucky. Extremely lucky. I know that we have moved through this process with unbelievable speed, we filled out the agency application in November 2006, and we arrived in Moscow on April 4, 2007. I know that when we saw his pictures for the first time, he became our son, and others have not had that clarity. I have not questioned any of our choices, and I know this makes us so lucky. We have only had the best that we could dream for.
I cry. Listen, y'all will know this soon enough, I am a crier. I cry with the happy, the sad, the mad, the frustrated and the tired. (Essentially, I am the Statue of Liberty of crying). So I cry myself to sleep quite a bit, because I know that he has already started another day without us, and that we are ending another day without him.
We have our visas, I am making lists, what to bring, what needs to be done while I am there and my husband is here, I am trying to stock the freezer so he'll eat well without me.
I am trying to breathe in, breathe out, kiss my son goodnight.
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