The Highest of Highs, the Lowest of Lows
Several weeks ago Pam approached me to write a guest post for her. As a fellow Canadian on the road to international adoption from Russia, Pam and I have an instant bond. The adoption community is awesome that way, our arms are always wide open, ready to welcome new members into our sacred little club. We "get it", the ups and downs, the excitement of completing a step, the agony of those moments in between when there is nothing you can do to hurry things along, and through it all we do our best to support each other. Adoption is certainly not for the faint of heart and this stage that I am currently sitting in, is I think perhaps, the hardest part of it all.
I flew out to Siberia, my mom and sister by my side, at the end of October and we made the 46 hour trek (yes, you read that right. We had some very lengthy layovers) to her orphanage. I sat in a chair while the orphanage doctor came in and reviewed her medical history with me and my level headed sister took the notes that I was too nervous to write myself. And as all of this was taking place, there came the pitter patter of little feet and suddenly there she was, the little person I had travelled half way across the world to meet. What can I tell you? It was nothing short of indescribable. My word she is beautiful. I think she may quite possibly be the prettiest little girl in the entire Russian federation and as I am not technically her mother yet, my opinion is completely unbiased. ;).
She has curly blonde hair and blue eyes and is a petite 25 lbs at the age of 3.5 years. I learned that she sucks her thumb at night, is afraid of needles and bugs, and asks every visitor that comes in, "are you my mama? Can I come home with you?" That week we spent with her has been the highlight of my life to date and walking out that door on our last visit after her nanny explained that mama had to go away now and would not be coming back to visit again for awhile, was one of the hardest things I have ever done in my life. I knew it was coming, but oh my word. I don't think anything could have prepared me for that moment.
Last week I finally heard that I can expect a court date around February 20th. I feel like I am holding my breath in anticipation of that call, that email, that moment when I know for sure that I am stepping on that plane again to go back to her. Almost there. I breathe and remind myself, I am almost there.
The referral came out of nowhere on a Monday morning in September and just like that, my world turned upside down in the most amazing way possible. I think I floated on air for those 4 weeks. Oh yes, there was stress, there was so much to do; to have her medical report assessed, get our visas processed, book tickets, but at the end of the chaos I was going to meet her, my little bean.
I flew out to Siberia, my mom and sister by my side, at the end of October and we made the 46 hour trek (yes, you read that right. We had some very lengthy layovers) to her orphanage. I sat in a chair while the orphanage doctor came in and reviewed her medical history with me and my level headed sister took the notes that I was too nervous to write myself. And as all of this was taking place, there came the pitter patter of little feet and suddenly there she was, the little person I had travelled half way across the world to meet. What can I tell you? It was nothing short of indescribable. My word she is beautiful. I think she may quite possibly be the prettiest little girl in the entire Russian federation and as I am not technically her mother yet, my opinion is completely unbiased. ;).
She has curly blonde hair and blue eyes and is a petite 25 lbs at the age of 3.5 years. I learned that she sucks her thumb at night, is afraid of needles and bugs, and asks every visitor that comes in, "are you my mama? Can I come home with you?" That week we spent with her has been the highlight of my life to date and walking out that door on our last visit after her nanny explained that mama had to go away now and would not be coming back to visit again for awhile, was one of the hardest things I have ever done in my life. I knew it was coming, but oh my word. I don't think anything could have prepared me for that moment.
So now I sit and wait. Months have gone by and I worry. I worry that she's forgotten me mostly. I worry that she thinks I've changed my mind. This last leg of the marathon, this waiting for a court date, is really kind of gruesome. There are days I don't want to move from my couch, days where I cry at nothing at all, and always, always, the frantic checking of my email for news. Something. Anything. This ban that came down around Christmas only intensified every emotion already coursing through me and I am emotionally spent.
Last week I finally heard that I can expect a court date around February 20th. I feel like I am holding my breath in anticipation of that call, that email, that moment when I know for sure that I am stepping on that plane again to go back to her. Almost there. I breathe and remind myself, I am almost there.
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So precious!
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