Homeward Bound (and Gagged)

It's very late Friday night. Our final day in Moscow is coming to an end, and with it, the long, meandering route that this adoption adventure has taken us on. We are coming home.

Our flight leaves at 7:00 a.m. from Sheremetyevo Airport, which means that as soon as I post this final entry in this Russian chapter of the blog and finish (okay ... start) packing, I'll have maybe three hours' sleep before the ever-reliable Vladimir is knocking at our door at 4:30.

The trip home will occur in four stages: (1) Moscow to Frankfurt, Germany (~2.5 hours); (2) layover in Frankfurt (~1.5 hours); (3) Frankfurt to San Francisco (~10.5 hours); (4) indescribable joy as we touch U.S. soil and go home to sleep in our own beds (~ ever after). This is, of course, not counting the sub-stages that will occur along the way, which will be dictated by Genevieve's mood and the tolerance of the nice people seated in our general vicinity at any given time. (The title of today's blog posting is a play on what these nice people may be thinking between about Iceland and Idaho tomorrow morning.)

As you will already have read, Genevieve Syevinch Sanguinetti came home from the orphanage with us this past Monday afternoon. The first couple of days were spent getting to know her (and vice versa) — calibrating our expectations to the determined attitude of this independent toddler. We knew that this last week would be spent indoors when we weren't jumping through the final adoption hoops. I don't think either of us anticipated that indoors meant sitting on the floor in the living room searching for new "toys" (defined as anything relatively unbreakable that might hold G's attention for more than 20 minutes) and new sounds (running the gamut from barnyard animals to faux Russian with a whole range of clicks, clucks, and snaps in between) to entertain our little guest. (Those of you with kids, stop your laughing — I'm angling for sympathy here, not entertainment.) Fortunately, her schedule had been set in the orphanage for two two-hour naps each day, allowing Renee and I an opportunity for adult interactions (i.e., sleeping or eating). (The photo here is the "before" shot of the much-loved peek-a-book experience.)

Tuesday, we had an appointment with a doctor for Genevieve's physical — a requirement of the U.S. government prior to granting her a visa to travel to the U.S. Given that G does not like having her clothes tampered with (taken off or put on), that she does not do well around strangers, and she does not like being poked or prodded, you can imagine how the physical went (in fact, if you were listening carefully at about 3:00 a.m. Tuesday morning (PST), you may have actually heard how the physical went). Despite the kicking and screaming, she was given a relatively clean bill of health — a bit of vitamin D (?) deficiency (from lack of sunlight) and a mild respiratory issue, both of which should clear up quickly.

On Wednesday, one of our two "free" days this week, we took the opportunity to get in one more day of sightseeing and shopping. The weather had warmed to slightly above freezing, so the snow, which had clung to the ground since we arrived, was melting. So despite the fact that we could still see our breath, it felt like a good day to be outdoors. Renee strapped on the baby carrier, plunked G in, I grabbed the Cheerios and Kleenex, and we were off.

To her credit, Renee has done exceedingly well given that G still wants little to do with me. The attachment process tends to work on a one-person-at-a-time basis, so she's happy with me providing her with silly distractions ... but only so long as she can cling to Mama. Renee had not, however, used the carrier with G more than a few quick outings, so we learned that an 18-pound child will weigh 78 pounds after an hour of walking (something having to do with new physics, I think). And given that the ankle I hurt last Tuesday had yet to heal, the walk was far from successful. (This photo was clearly taken at the beginning of Wednesday's walk, as Renee is smiling.)

That night, Renee developed a headache and swollen glands. Not good given the situation. As the primary caregiver — really as the only caregiver, given that I'm more of the cook/busboy/house cleaner/data-entry clerk — she needed to be accessible to G whenever G was conscious. (If you heard the incessant, high-pitched wailing when Renee had to use the restroom, you'd be a lot more understanding of the situation ... like an air-raid siren up an octave!)

Thursday, Renee was feeling worse, having added migraine to the growing list of symptoms. She had most of the morning to take things easy, as I became increasingly more innovative with our definition of "toy" and found very creative ways to keep this toddler busy. We all rallied for our 2:00 appointment at the U.S. embassy for G's necessary visa. Masha met us at our apartment building and walked with us all the way to the embassy (see photo for scale — click to enlarge), where she left us in the care of the U.S. Marines who ushered us inside. Apparently, the adoption process is one that the embassy staff are quite familiar with. In fact, they have got it down to a science, scheduling all adoption visas for the same time each day. In the little waiting area on the second floor of the building, we were in the company of maybe seven other Russian kids and their respective adoptive parents all hoping for the rubber stamp that meant all was in order. After nearly an hour, everyone got their golden ticket home.

Friday, today — our final day and another "free" day — was spent recuperating. Renee was still feeling pretty lousy; Genevieve, despite her frequent adorable nature, was as independent as ever; and I was just wanting to take it easy. When G went down for her 2:00 nap, Renee joined her, and I, beginning to come down with my own case of cabin fever, escaped for a last walk through the city. This excursion was pretty much limited to the Arbat (touristy walking street), as it had the souvenir shops I was needing and was a very short walk away, but it was nice to get out — especially knowing that I don't intend to be back here for a very long time. (No offense to Moscow, the Muscovites, or my Moscow-loving friends.) The highlight of my mini-adventure was a side trip into downtown Moscow's first Starbucks (my home away from home, which opened while we were here) where I could order a grandé cappuccino in the comfort of the English language. (It took me until my final day, but the photo captures the second-best thing about this trip. I hope the first-best thing goes without saying.)

In all seriousness, the past several weeks have been the toughest, longest, hardest, and greatest that I've had in a very long time. It's time to come home and "home" never sounded quite so good.

Renee and I missed this year's Thanksgiving, but we are unimaginably thankful that the approaching holidays will be a season of joy like we've never experienced. This process has opened our eyes to a whole other world outside of our suburban comfort. So this year, every decoration that we set out, every candle we light, every card we write, every gift we give will be in recognition of some child somewhere who will be spending the holidays without a home and without a family. Our wish is that every one of them can discover the love that we hope to share with Genevieve.

Thank you for your continued support the past several months and years as we've undergone this grueling adoption process. We look forward to sharing our 16-month-old Christmas gift with you.

Much love,
Larry, Renee & Genevieve
(a.k.a. Papa, Mama, and Baby G)

Day Two: Decision

Okay, I think we'll keep her....

...And Baby Makes Three

I was expecting that this posting would be another heart-wrenching narrative in which I share the intense feelings of new fatherhood or the tender emotion of watching your young child sleep, but halfway through the writing of this post, I realized that I was in a very different space. Blame it on jet lag, poor nutrition, caffeine withdrawal, or sheer giddiness at having finally achieved this long sought-after goal, but my apologies for those anticipating drama — this is more of a sitcom, I'm afraid.

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[Note: As of Monday — the day of physical custody — I am going to start referring to the focus of this blog as "Genevieve," relegating the Russian "Syevinch" to the role of middle name. Sorry in advance for the confusion.]

Upon waking Monday morning, Renee and I looked at each other knowingly and smiled. I said something like, "This is the last morning that we will wake up childless" and she said something like, "You've got an hour — get your butt in the shower."

Okay, maybe not, but there was some degree of recognition that today was the day that our lives would change. The rushing tends to happen regardless.

Vlad was scheduled to pick us up at 10:00 to drive us across town (why is it that all of our drives seem to be "across town" and yet we've seen so little of the city?) to apply for an expedited Russian passport for Genevieve. ("Expedited," in this case, meant greasing the palms of some Russian bureaucrats with a little U.S. greenery — but at this point, whatever it takes to get us through the last five days and homeward bound is worth the price.) This first errand was to be followed by a visit to the supermarket for Vlad's assistance in purchasing the toddler-friendly supplies that most closely resembled those found in the orphanage. And then off to Genevieve for our final visit at the orphanage to complete the paperwork and bring our baby home.

As we were getting ready for our big day, the phone rang at 9:20. It was Vlad calling to let us know that he had already arrived and was waiting for us in his car. That sped up our morning preparations. We threw ourselves together and met him downstairs.

The temperature had dropped again the night before, so it was a crisp –8° C (17° F) with a fine but icy snow blowing that stung our eyes as we raced to Vlad's car. I was quite appreciative of the fact that we were going to be driven around on this coldest of cold days; a walk to the orphanage in Monday's weather would have been absolutely punishing.

We drove clockwise on the ring road, admiring the tasteful Christmas decorations displayed throughout the city as we headed for the Office of Vital Statistics. Once there, we provided our passports to the uniformed clerk who jotted down our vital statistics before allowing us to head to the third floor, where we encountered a line of 10 or 12 people. Vlad took my U.S. currency and slipped into a side office. A short time later, he appeared again and called me in to join him. Assuming that my cash had bought me this pass to the head of the queue, I sat down at a desk with a very stern-looking woman who had me sign two different forms authorizing the issuance of Genevieve's passport — my first task in the role of parent/guardian. Once done, we headed out and back to the car to continue our day.

Despite the methodical layout of Moscow's city streets, the circular structure leaves us novices never really knowing where we are, other than whether we're proceeding clockwise or counterclockwise on the various ring roads and to or from the city center on the arteries. All this to say, once we left our apartment, I was totally clueless as to where we were and was surprised to find us passing the back side of the Kremlin after leaving the passport office. As we inched past in Moscow traffic, I snuck a peak between St. Basil's cathedral and the Kremlin wall to see the beginning of what apparently became a 5,000-strong youth rally in support of President Putin and his successful, albeit tainted, victory in Sunday's parliamentary elections. (See photo clipped from the Yahoo! News site — this is the view I had quite a bit earlier in the day.)

Our drive continued back up one of the main arteries from the city center. At one point, about halfway to the orphanage, we saw that an accident had tied up traffic in the opposite direction. Vlad explained to us, quite angrily, that drivers involved in accidents are required to wait at the scene for the police (militsiya) to show up and take a report. His anger came from the injustice of how the rules force hundreds of people to pay for the actions of two. Not more than three or four minutes later — seriously — Vlad slammed on his brakes to avoid a car that stopped short in front of us and we were sideswiped by a van attempting to pass us on the right. (The icy roads didn't help.) Apparently there was no damage to the van and minimal damage to Vlad's pristine Renault, so we did not wait for the militsiya and instead continued on our quest for Pampers.

We hit the supermarket (not literally, despite the van incident), where we stocked up on the Russian equivalent of Gerbers, purchasing jars of beef stroganoff and other Slavic delights, as well as pureed fruit, yogurt, juice, and cookies. We were also informed that in addition to the gifts that we had brought for the orphanage director and the numerous caregivers back in September, it was expected that we would bring gifts of tea and coffee again this trip. While it was frustrating to learn of this additional tradition in the moment, in hindsight it seems like a very favorable trade — one adorable little 16-month-old in exchange for a jar of Sanka, a box of Lipton tea, and a tin of butter cookies (although I think I'll hold off on sharing this news with Genevieve, as I don't want her to develop a false impression of self-worth).

We arrived at the orphanage just as Genevieve was finishing her lunch. Renee was escorted away to dress her in the clothes that we brought for her. (The clothes that she wore while at the orphanage are the property of "the state," so they must remain there.) I was taken another direction to sign the orphanage's papers to accept physical custody. While signing for this adorable package, I learned that Genevieve had been christened shortly after arriving at the orphange in September 2006. Because "Syevinch" is a Muslim name, she was christened as "Svetlana" ("Svyeta" for short), although I think only the most devout of orthodox caregivers in the facility referred to her by this new name; everyone else seemed okay with her non-Christian heritage and unique name.

As I made my way back to where Renee was preparing Genevieve, I saw a gathering of green frocks as the caregivers sought one final goodbye with their little girl. As I projected in Sunday's blog, it was very touching to see how affected they all were and how clearly sad they were at this farewell. We intend to send regular updates to the orphanage workers to ensure that they can witness Genevieve's development over the years. (The photo at right shows three of Genevieve's caregivers with one of the facility's doctors.)

Genevieve apparently was less than thrilled to be bundled up for our drive home. (Actually, the bundling was for the very brief walk from the orphanage to the car and from the car to the apartment, but with temperatures this extreme that level of protection is mandatory.) But once we got outside, she was mostly okay — occasional sobs with slight chance of bawling, clearing later in the day.

An hour later, Vlad dropped us off at our aparment building informing us that the week's schedule had once again changed. Rather than push the medical exam out to Wednesday, he preferred to do that on Tuesday (today), so that we could pick up Genevieve's new Russian passport on the way home and eliminate the need for two days of errands. So the plan now is for the three of us to ride with Vlad to the clinic about 20 minutes away, where we will meet Masha who will use the time to help us complete the final forms required by the U.S. Department of Homeland Security (yes ... more forms!). Once Genevieve has a complete physical (a requirement of the U.S. prior to the issuance of a visa), Vlad will drive Renee and her back to the apartment and take me on our convoluted trip back to the nice lady at the passport office to retrieve Genevieve Syevinch Sanguinetti's Russian passport.

Wednesday will be a free day for us. With the weather warming to a balmy 34° and Genevieve warming to us, we may attempt to venture out to see how she does in the big, wide world — a sort of test prior to Saturday's air-travel adventure. Thursday, then, is our visit to the U.S. embassy, another brief formality, but one that will allow us to bask in the comfort of the English language.

"Okay, okay," I hear you say. "Enough with the practicalities! How did the first day with Genevieve go?!" I'm glad you asked — I was just getting to that.

We were dropped off at the apartment after our morning's errands sometime just after 1:00. Genevieve had already had her noontime feeding and it was still an hour before her scheduled afternoon nap, so we spent the next hour showing her around our home away from home, attempting to allay any fears of this strange, new, pink place.

She did quite well and settled in to Renee's lap in the corner of the living room to play with her now-familiar toys. Given that in the orphanage she is already drinking from a teacup, she did remarkably well with the concept of a sippy cup (although she was extremely frustrated with it this morning). We tested out the concept of video as a distraction by playing one of the two "Baby Einstein" DVDs that we had brought with us. While she wasn't captivated by it, there was enough interest that this may work as a distraction on Saturday's flights.

At 2:00 — her scheduled nap time — we realized that she was not pleased with the idea of lying alone in her crib (a complete understatement!), and it took nearly two hours of encouragement and pseudo-sleeping in Renee's arms before the transplant to her crib was successful, leaving us with an hour and a half of calm before we woke her at 5:30 for her afternoon snack. Outcome: She loves pureed mango, loves banana yogurt, hates vitamin-enriched cookies.

Shortly after snack time, Renee bravely ventured forth to conquer the soiled diaper and returned victorious, despite Genevieve's anguish at being changed. We dressed her in her sleeper (you gotta love the little footsies on those sleepers!) and played with her for a bit before Renee decided that she desperately needed a bath. Feeling that there was no benefit to postponing the inevitable, we attempted this challenge together. Outcome: Genevieve does not like baths. (Actually, we've heard awful reports of how kids are washed en masse in the orphanage, so there's really no surprise that she shies away from the sound of running water.)

So the bath was short lived, but at least she came away smelling better — we'll have to deal with the therapy costs arising from our "water torture" later in life. Another hour or two of playtime before dinner, where we discovered that if we want her to eat her chicken stew, you don't start by feeding her the much-preferred yogurt. Needless to say, every meal is supplemented with the ever-present Cheerios. (By the way, we never made it to the weekend brunch at the Marriott, but we were able to find the Russian equivalent of Cheerios at the local market and have restocked our supplies.)

After dinner, another few minutes of play time, drumming along to "I Am a Pizza" (thanks a lot, Steve!) and some kid-friendly Mozart before attempting a return to the crib. Fortunately, Renee had learned the trick earlier in the day and got the process down from the initial two hours to about 40 minutes (a relative success captured in the beautiful photo here).

So day two has begun. Being the closet statistician that I am, I calculated that we are approximately 0.007% into our projected lifetime with Genevieve. It's nice to know that we've got another 14,000 days (give or take) to figure out how to make the process work.

Thanks to all of you who responded with your assurances that this is a "learn as you go" experience. It helps to know that we're not alone in our ignorance.

More stories and photos to follow on the last few days of our Russian experience.

With love,
Larry & Renee

Culmination

By the time many of you read this latest entry, Renee and I will have been "home" (back at our Moscow apartment) with Syevinch for at least a couple of hours. One very lengthy adventure finally over and one that will last the remainder of our lifetimes just beginning.

I realize in writing this that those of you who have kids must find the climax of our little story just a bit melodramatic. After all, ordinary people become parents every day — there's not a whole lot extraordinary about the process. And yet, in truth, there is something extraordinary about it every single time it occurs.

Our process may be interesting because of the international element, the extended duration, or the roller-coaster nature of our experiences the last two years. I'm sure the rarity of adoption adds to the interest level, and the idea of bringing a walking, talking, reasoning 16-month-old into our lives and convincing her that two relative strangers will be her parents is a factor — it's certainly the one with the greatest impact on Renee and me. But we're not that different from what happens everywhere in the world on any given day.

And yet, from a very subjective perspective, it is the most profound thing that I could possibly imagine. That is why I write and that is why I share it with you.

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Because of the time lag between Moscow and you, even though I opened this blog by stating that the adoption was complete and Syevinch was "home" with us, I am writing this from the familiar side of that life-changing event and am still struggling to understand and prepare for tomorrow's reality.

• What does she eat?
• How do we feed her?
• When will she nap?
• How will we know what she needs?
• How do we communicate what we need?
• How do we explain this disruption to life as she knows it?

So many unknowns. This is something that I've wanted for a very long time and I am ecstatic that this dream is finally coming true, but the excitement is tempered with fear and with doubt ... such mixed feelings.

Parents, tell me ... is this how you felt in anticipation of parenthood?

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Okay, enough with the pondering ... back to the details.

Saturday was cold. We made our regular trek by metro and foot to the orphanage and had a nice but fairly brief visit with Syevinch. Nothing out of the ordinary ... except for the cold. I think it hit a high of about 23°, which was comparable to our very first visit to the orphanage back in mid-November. It was cold enough that Renee and I both questioned whether we would return on Sunday. But given that Sunday would be our final visit with Syevinch in her familiar surroundings, we didn't want to give that up.

Sunday was colder. I learned that my gloves max out around 20° and that anything colder than that got through the REI-approved exterior and bit at my hands. Sunday's temperature was 17° not factoring wind chill. When we first arrived in Moscow on November 18, I asked our driver Vlad what he thought of the cold. He responded with a common saying in Russia: "Rather to sweat for seven days, than shiver for one." Despite my intense preference for cold-weather climates, I now understand the logic of our Russian friend. And yet it didn't seem to stop the natives from getting out and even having fun. Both Saturday and Sunday we saw a lot of parents pulling their kids on sleds (the winter equivalent of our little red wagon), adults cross-country skiing in the "green" spaces on the fringe of the city, and families out on leisurely strolls through the snow. (Photo at right.)

Holding to our initial decision, we got ready Sunday morning, bundled up, and trudged out. Exiting the apartment squeezed the breath out of us as the wind and cold slapped at exposed flesh. (My sympathies to Heather and Sarah who reportedly experienced similar weather this week in Colorado and Minnesota, respectively.) There are a couple of elderly homeless women who have taken up residence in the clearing outside of our apartment building — I don't know how they have managed to survive such levels of exposure. Passing them every day on our way to the metro is hard, not knowing how to provide assistance. Knowing that the temperature will continue to drop and remain dangerously low through January leaves me wondering what will become of them.

Despite the weather's intent to stop us, we made it to the metro, acknowledging our last ride to the end of the purple line, our last walk through the far reaches of the Moscow city limits, our last visit to Syevinch's orphanage home. The visit itself was nice. Every day we see her, she is walking a bit more, toddling around on her wobbly little legs, fearless in her efforts to be that much more independent. When we poked our head into her room, she walked over, smiling, to Renee's outstretched arms. And for the next hour, in a tiny little space at the far side of the building, she continued to grow increasingly more comfortable with us. (She now enjoys hanging upside down, as the photo at right shows.)

However, she has grown bored with the arsenal of toys that we brought with us, finding the greatest amusement in tossing them to the floor. Now she takes great delight in manhandling more fragile things like my watch and the camera, taking particular pleasure in putting the lens cap on, as if she were a miniature Sean Penn dealing with the paparazzi. (Partial photo at right — "I said no more photos!")

All of the caregivers that we've encountered, despite the lack of common language, have been very pleasant and helpful. Recognizing Syevinch's final days in the orphanage, they have been especially attentive to her. We talk about the concerns of attachment from the perspective of the child and how transitioning them from an institutional environment to a home environment is a complicated process, but we've neglected to think of how hard this must be for the dozen or so women in the orphanage who are forced to say goodbye to the children that they have effectively raised. We get the sense that they too believe that it is in the child's best interest to be raised in a loving family, but still ... goodbyes are never easy. We've been able to get a few random photos of some of these caregivers, but due to shifting schedules and such, there's no way for us to capture everyone that Syevinch has had contact with. (Photo of just two of these special women — note Syevinch's utter displeasure at having to say goodbye.)

As we slogged home, we decided to go out to eat tonight in "celebration" of our last night of childlessness (and in recognition that eating out will soon be a rare occurrence), but upon settling in to the warmth of the apartment, I fell asleep and didn't wake until after 9:00. Looks like leftover soup and instant coffee again. Meanwhile, Renee has made yet another scan of the apartment in an attempt to baby-proof this unproofable space. Fortunately, we won't have much need (or desire) to leave the apartment for the next week (other than scheduled outings to the doctor and embassy), so we will both be able to keep watch over Syevinch as she adjusts to her new surroundings.

And so tomorrow looms. Unlike the anticipation for the court date, which was a 20-minute ordeal and then over, this anticipation is much longer-lived.

It is finally here: The moment that we have pursued since this whole adventure began in July 2005 ... the goal of our painstaking adventure finally within our grasp.

With a sigh of relief and a gasp of trepidation,
Larry & Renee

Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow

Today's guest writer: Renee

Well, we had great intentions today of visiting the Kremlin. Got up, showered, dressed, read about the sites, got out the door ... and well the snow and Larry's ankle pain led us to revisit our plan. Instead, we hit a bookstore to feed my Harry Potter fix (re-reading the series). Hopefully I will get book 5 read before Monday, as I guess I will have to wait for books 6 & 7 for when Syevinch hits puberty. And, as a lame attempt at bringing Russian culture home with us (and since we won't now see the Kremlin), we bought a tourist book version of it. We then had our coffee fix at the cafe chain Shokoladnitsa and looked at the images of the Kremlin from a really warm and toasty place. Did I mention the art and jewels look an awful lot like the treasures in St. Petersburg?? (I know, really lame excuse). (See pic of Larry in his favorite Moscow spot: Shokoladnitsa.)

Then we started our holiday shopping and souvenir buying by going back to Arbat Street. I think we had the word "tourist" written on our foreheads as we left with way fewer Rubles than when we started. (There is a fine line between overpriced souvenir junk and way way overpriced hand-carved and hand-painted artisan crafts. We tried to find the balance somewhere in between.)

We then went back to the supermarket to restock a few items in preparation for next week (i.e., our first week of parenthood)!! Did I mention that our true mission for the day was to find more Cheerios? It is the only snack Syevinch will eat and I was just fearing the plane ride home sans Cheerios. Well, we found a knock off and will do the true test when we bring a few of them to the orphanage tomorrow. We trudged our way back through the snow carrying arm fulls of bags when we came back to the palace. Our cleaning lady was here, we tried to communicate a bit, scheduled our last cleaning and found that she had set up the crib for us!!
Have I said recently how this is getting really real. And can I say... the crib is also a rocker... how cute is that!!!

By the way, plan B (if the fake Cheerios don't work), is for Lare and I to go to an exorbitantly overpriced brunch buffet at the Marriott and stuff our pockets with Cheerios. (Thanks to Melissa for the idea!!!) Apparently the Marriott serves many, many adoptive families and has a plentiful supply of Cheerios on hand (gotta do what you gotta do!).

Anyway, I thought you might like to see a few shots from our day today (the one in red is not Larry). The photos from our visit yesterday weren't fabulous. Syevinch was really tired and there were more tears than smiles. We were able to get a photo of a few of her caregivers though, and I know in years to come she will appreciate having these images.

Just two more days of trekking out to the orphanage! Yippee! (You have no idea!) And, yes, we are doing the countdown till we come home.

All our best,

Renee (and Larry)

P.S. We still love hearing from you — it makes home feel a lot closer than halfway across the globe.

Winter Wonderland

It's 4:41 Thursday morning, Moscow time. I had every intention of writing this blog posting about eight hours ago, but my body gave out eight and a half hours ago and Renee and I both wound up falling asleep as we discussed what to do about dinner. (The lack of consciousness dictated the menu of cold cereal and hot tea when I awoke around 2:00 a.m.)

So we're back from our little jaunt to the coast — the Baltic coast, that is. St. Petersburg was great — a gorgeous city in the style of Western Europe and well preserved given that it recently celebrated its 300th birthday (a baby next to Moscow's 1000-year history). The core of the city was condensed enough to motivate us to walk everywhere, but expansive enough to provide a sense of awe. And while Renee and I both appreciated the opportunity to get some much-needed exercise, I did something to my Achilles tendon our last night in St. Petersburg that continues to hurt — not ideal for our current walking-intensive lifestyle, particularly through the ice and snow.

We took quite a few photos of St. Petersburg, both walking around the city the three days we were there, as well as a considerable number of photos inside the Hermitage — one of Russia's premier art museums. Rather than subject you to them here, I am working at creating a photo gallery on Flickr.com, which I will include a link to once it's available. (This preview is of Renee in front of the Pushkin Theatre just beneath the statue of Empress Catherine.)

In the meantime, however, here's a view of the spire of the Saints Peter & Paul Cathedral located within the aptly named Peter & Paul Fortress. The fort is across the Neva River from the heart of St. Petersburg, which was nearly completely frozen over when we visited. The ice had been broken up by shipping traffic and refrozen so that it was ultimately composed of sheets of ice as large and as thick as doors jutting up from the river at random angles. It was also snowing pretty steadily, so everything was dusted white, adding to the Arctic effect.

While it was wonderful to get away from the drudgery of apartment living in Moscow, we missed our time (however limited) with Syevinch and were concerned that interruption of our consistent daily visits might affect the bonding process. This was not to be the case, however, and is mentioned below in further detail.

We spent quite a bit of time just walking the city to take in the surroundings and sights. Unfortunately, however, the first morning and much of the third and final day were consumed by killing time. Because hotel check-in was 2:00 p.m. and our train arrived at 8:00 a.m., we spent much of the first morning sitting in cafes (granted, I could think of much worse things than drinking coffee in a European cafe!) and wandering the streets around the hotel in a frozen delirium. The final day had the reverse effect in that hotel check-out was noon — a full 12 hours before our train departed for Moscow. Fortunately, we were able to store our luggage at the hotel until much later that evening, but it still meant that we were homeless for the day, wandering at the whim of the travel gods.

[I know that Renee will ask me to edit this posting after-the-fact if I don't also mention such things as our amazingly overpriced taxi ride the morning of our arrival (he quoted me 35 Euro for the 8-block drive from the train station to our hotel, which I mistakenly heard as 35 Rubles — a difference of about $40); of our eerie dining experience Tuesday evening in an expansive, two-story Russian/Chinese restaurant in which we were the only two patrons (the food was surprisingly good); or of our multiple book-buying excursions in which she found an English version of Harry Potter 4 (she finished book 3 far too quickly earlier in the trip), I bought Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment in the city in which it was set, and together we bought six or seven Russian picture books in support of our intentions to provide a cultural link to Syevinch's place of birth.]

All in all, it was a wonderful three days and was a great break from our Moscow routine. We were also delighted to discover that the train ride "home" Tuesday evening officially marked the halfway point in our extended Russian adventure. And now, a day later, the tally is: 11 days down, 9 to go (not counting the two full days of travel serving as bookends to this life-altering journey).

Upon arriving in Moscow first thing Wednesday morning, we were delighted to be greeted by Vlad, our primary guide to all things Moscow, who saved us the trouble and expense (and potential hilarity of ensuing communication difficulties) of hiring a taxi for the 20-minute ride across town. We also got the opportunity to talk through with him the schedule of events for the remaining week or so of our stay.

The good news: We will take physical custody of Syevinch next Monday, December 3 (the day after Russia's controversial national elections), two full days earlier than we were initially led to believe! (This is not meant to imply that there is bad news associated with this announcement, but there is now a countdown to when our lives will forever be changed — a concept difficult to fully grasp from this side of parenthood.)

The schedule for next week is therefore as follows:

Monday, 12/3:
• Visit the vital statistics office and apply for Syevinch's Russian passport.
• Go shopping (with Vlad) for all the basic necessities: diapers, baby food, etc.
• Return to the orphanage (for the last time) and bring our baby home.

Tuesday, 12/4:
• Figure out how to be a parent (one day should be enough time...)

Wednesday, 12/5:
• Take Syevinch to the medical clinic for a physical exam.

Thursday, 12/6:
• Visit the U.S. embassy (next door) to obtain Syevinch's U.S. visa.

Friday, 12/7:
• Panic.

Saturday, 12/8:
• Head home!

This leaves us the next four days (Thursday–Sunday) for our daily ritual of traversing the city by foot and metro to visit Syevinch at the orphanage. While it had begun snowing in St. Petersburg on Monday, Moscow didn't get it until yesterday (Wednesday). The snow is expected to continue here through the weekend, so our walks will be just a bit whiter, wetter, and slower, but will help prepare us for the coming holidays. (Renee has already taken to singing "Winter Wonderland" as we traipse through the bleak urban landscape of northwestern Moscow on our daily orphanage trek.)

Yesterday's visit (our first since being away for three days) was nice. Syevinch again reached out for Renee when we first poked our head in the door of "Gruppa 8" (her co-ed living quarters) and cried when we returned her to the caregivers for her nap. We continue to search for appropriate and effective distraction strategies in preparation for the plane ride home and have discovered that, regardless of a toy's degree of initial captivation, Syevinch seems to find the greatest amusement in throwing it on the floor. I'm hoping that this pattern doesn't continue through feeding time, as that could get old really quickly. This photo shows Syevinch having great fun with one of her favorite new toys, just prior to launching it.

We are still hoping to make the most of our free time and plan to return to the Kremlin on Friday or Saturday for the full tour, and although the Bolshoi Theatre was sold out for the entire duration of our stay, I'm still hopeful that we might be able to snag a couple of tickets to one of the ballets later this weekend. We're also hoping that Sunday's elections here don't disrupt the status quo to the point that our routine is affected. It may prove interesting to be at the center of this internationally observed event, but I'd feel better if it remains the uneventful event that it is projected to be.

Well, this took a lot longer to piece together than I had anticipated and I will be hard pressed to get another few hours of sleep before preparing for a limping return to Syevinch later this morning.

Until next time,
Larry & Renee

St. Pete

Hello from St. Petersburg!

Just a quick message to explain that our absence the last several days is due to the lack of internet access from our hotel in St. Petersburg. It's been just as chilly as Moscow (if not more so) and we got snowed on in our walking tour on Monday. But it's a beautiful place and well worth the trip.

We're headed back to Moscow on the midnight train and will send a more formal update (with photos) later Wednesday.

Thanks for checking in. More soon....

Larry & Renee

Out and About

Just a brief message today as we pack and prepare for the midnight train to St. Petersburg:

Still cold. Still pink. Still foreign.
Still traveling by metro. Still fascinated by stiletto heels in the snow.
Still jet-lagged. Still enjoying receiving your messages. Still waiting to bring Syevinch home.

The less-abbreviated version:

On Friday, we again braved the wind chill and the subway to visit Syevinch. The route through the suburbs of Moscow is now quite familiar and we no longer need to pay attention to our original markers: cross the street at the "StarDogs" vending cart (ask Renee what she thinks of this); turn left at the construction site; right when you see the three smokestacks of the power plant; and left again where they're tearing up the street. In fact, the most challenging part of our trek to the orphanage now is avoiding the snapping doors of the carnivorous elevator in our apartment building.

We had another nice visit with Syevinch, more laughs, fewer tears. She is still quite reluctant to have me hold her, but she's engaging more than before. She melted down a bit in the last 15-20 minutes of our visit and we had difficulty determining what was happening for her. Renee believes that she's teething, but having had a finger caught in her mouth, I know she's pretty, darned teethed! We also see her just before her afternoon nap, so it may be that our timing overlaps just a bit too closely with when she'd prefer to be back in her crib. Regardless, it was a nice time overall and we were sad to return her to her caregivers when we left an hour-and-a-half later.

After returning to our neighborhood, we hoofed it down to the closest (at least as far as we know) supermarket for a restocking of our little kitchen, including the missing necessities, such as instant coffee (a necessary evil), olive oil, rice, and cookies (an unnecessary blessing). After returning home, we napped for just a bit before heading out to search for an Indian restaurant, Tandoor, which we had seen advertised in the guide book. It was a bit further away than I had thought, but relatively easy to find, and it was great to have some good, ol' American food—tikka masala and lamb saag.

Today, Saturday, was another early-afternoon visit to Syevinch, so after a slow start, we headed out on our quite-familiar route to the orphanage by foot and metro. It was warmer today — a solid 32° — but there was a threat of snow, so we still had to remain bundled.

The visit at the orphanage was a bit manic. Because it was a weekend, most of the workers were not at the orphanage, so our usual visitation room was all locked up, and we wound up sitting on the floor of a tiny, little waiting area sans toys, sans space, but also sans distractions. Syevinch, at first, was very happy to see us, and even reached out for Renee when we entered her room (a wonderful image). We had a good 45 minutes or so, but then she got fidgety and we couldn't figure out what she was needing, and at one point, she went into arched-back mode accompanied by tears and wailing. Of course, we were armed with the all-powerful Cheerios, which worked to bring her back to a less-volatile state. This worked two or three times before she became immune to them and we wound up taking her back to her room a few minutes early, as it was becoming increasingly clear that all she really needed was to start her nap early.

So now we're back in the apartment. After several hours' sleep, we're both now packed and killing time as we wait for our driver to pick us up and drive us across town to the train station. The train departs just before midnight, arriving in St. Petersburg at 8:00 a.m. We've got a hotel room booked, but will need to get our bearings and figure out the town before we can check in later that morning.

I'm not certain whether we will have internet access or not, so this may be the last posting for a bit. We'll be back on the midnight train Tuesday night in time for a visit Wednesday afternoon to our favorite, little Moscow orphanage.

Best wishes,
Larry & Renee

P.S. Now I've got Gladys Knight stuck in my head: "And I'm leaving ... on that midnight train to Moscow...." (Probably not the original lyrics.)

Our first couple days of parenthood

Today's guest writer: Renee

On Wednesday, we ventured out solo onto the streets of Moscow in an attempt to make it to the orphanage and back on our own. It's about a ten minute walk to the metro from our apartment, a 30 minute ride on metro and about a 25 -30 minute walk to the orphanage. The easy part is going to the orphanage on the metro, because it's the last stop on the line (you can't really mess this up), but the fear is missing the correct station on the way back... Luckily, we were able to count the correct number of stops and find our way back. Side note: we wish we could take video onto the metro just to show you all the people, the fashion, the fur coats and the 4" heels that people wear in the snow. Fascinating.

Enclosed are some photos from our walk. The majority of the walk from the Metro is surrounded by tall apartment buildings. It's all residential, really safe. Interesting to see the babushkas out and about and vendors (in little kiosks) selling beautiful fresh flowers and produce. It's great to people-watch en route. The orphanage is on the outskirts of town, so we walk parallel a stretch of birch woods for the last leg of the jaunt, before turning up the street that leads us to the orphanage.

The main thing to know is that the streets are really icy and since the temperatures have been hovering around freezing, it's easy for snow to melt, then freeze again as ice, which is quite dangerous. You know how people say "break a leg," well I'm trying really hard not to. Larry on the other hand... likes to slide on the ice for fun. I remind him we don't even know the word for 'hospital' in Russian!

When we arrived at the orphanage, we had a great visit with Syevinch. Few tears, lots of laughter, smiles, imitation, peek a boos, blowing raspberries and we got it all on video. Unfortunately, the cable that would allow us to show you the video is at home, so we will have to post them at a later time. Just know that we had a really wonderful visit and the video will have to follow. The still photos just can't capture what it feels like to hear little Syevinch laugh.

On our return to our neighborhood we found a wonderful cafe. It's called Shokoladnitsa ... think the movie Chocolat, but with coffees, blintzes, tiramisu and a lot more. We had a celebratory coffee and crepe (in lieu of champagne) to toast the new and official member of our family.

*****

Happy belated Thanksgiving!

The purpose of our visit to see Syevinch on Thursday was to take her out of the orphanage (for the first time in her memory) to get her passport photos taken. She did such a great job at having to leave what was known and safe to her. She just observed everything, took it all in. The hardest part was having to take off her snow suit at the passport photo place to get her pictures taken (then put back on again once done -- then back off again when we returned to the orphanage). This seemed to be the hardest part for us all. So many zippers and so many tears. All in all she coped really well, and we were able to have a short but sweet visit with her when we returned to the orphanage.

Last night we had great intention to find an American restaurant and have a traditional meal of turkey and stuffing, but jet lag kicked in. We napped around 4p.m., woke up in a delirious state after 7p.m. and opted for frozen pizza. Not quite the same thing, but my mom said she would give us an IOU and Sandy (Larry's mom) made us an early Thanksgiving dinner before we left town. We were very thankful just to have any food at that point without having to leave the apartment and go out into the cold.

A thankful Renee (and Larry), craving turkey and the trimmings. :-)

Off for another adventure on the Metro today!!

Giving Thanks

It's just after midnight in Moscow. Renee's gone to sleep and I sit here on the salmon-colored couch in the pink living room of our rented apartment listening to the traffic on the street below. In this solitude, it seems right to reflect on all that has happened through this long and challenging process.

As mentioned in previous postings, Renee and I decided back in the summer of 2005 to pursue adoption, and in July of that year, we signed a contract with an adoption agency to begin what was described as a 12- to 15-month process to adopt two little girls from Ukraine. In the 28 months since we signed those first forms, we've switched countries of focus (from Ukraine to Russia), worked with two separate adoption agencies, had every part of our lives scrutinized by officials in both Russia and the U.S., experienced the heights of hope and the depths of despair, and invested a considerable amount of time, money, and emotion into the dream of sharing our lives with a little one. While it is easy to recite this as a list of grievances, I am actually experiencing it now as a prayer of thanks. For in the end, every hurdle, every roadblock, every dead-end has simply been a roadmap that has led us to Syevinch. And as of 11:45 p.m. (California time) on Monday, November 19, according to the government of the Russian Federation, Renee and I are officially the very grateful parents of this little angel.

Our anxieties about the court appearance were understandable, but unnecessary. We arrived at the courthouse around 9:15 Tuesday morning for our 10:00 hearing. Due to errors of communication, the orphanage director had not been informed of the court appointment, so our driver had to drop us off at the courthouse, then drive to pick her up at a distant metro station, as the hearing required her testimony. We were told to wait in the lobby of this grand and foreign building for either Vlad (the driver) to return or for Masha, our translator, to meet us. So we sat ... 9:20 ... and sat ... 9:30 ... and got anxious ... 9:40 ... and stressed.... Finally, at about 9:50, Masha rushed in and escorted us to the sixth floor, breathlessly reciting the list of questions we would likely be asked and educating us on the formal process of the justice system — when to say yes, when to say no, when to stand up, when to sit down. (This description makes it sound preschoolish in nature, but it proved to be very, very helpful in relieving some of the anxiety.)

On the sixth floor, we again had to wait. 10:00 came and went. Masha tried to put us at ease by explaining that the court hearing is more of a legal necessity than a situation in which we would ever expect to be denied custody. But given that the judgment was entirely outside our control, the anxiety remained. This lack of control was further emphasized by our introduction to the social worker who would speak on behalf of the social welfare system to recommend for or against the adoption (we didn't know which). Twice, while we were waiting, the court secretary came out to see if we were ready, but since the hearing could not begin without all parties present, we had to wait for Vlad and the orphanage director to arrive.

At 10:10, Vlad and the director showed up, and yet we still waited ... 10:20 ... and waited ... before being called in to the courtroom at 10:25.

The space was fairly simple — what you might see on an episode of Law & Order, but on a smaller scale. We sat in the first of two or three rows of benches and stood as the judge entered — a professional, middle-aged woman, who looked all business — and recited our das and nyets as instructed, indicating that we understood the process and had no objections to the system. Masha sat next to us and translated everything that was spoken by the judge, the prosecutor, and the Russian witnesses (the social worker and orphanage director) through the next 20 minutes of the hearing.

While waiting, Renee and I agreed that I would take the brunt of the questioning, so following the formalities, I took the stand — a podium in the center of the room, facing the judge — and with the help of Masha responded as best I could to the questions asked. The first several questions were straightforward: state your name, your birthdate, your employer and job title, your annual income, your date of marriage (fortunately, I've got the memory for dates and numbers — if Renee had been the one to answer this last question, we might be celebrating our 40th anniversary instead of our 4th). Then the questions became more open-ended: describe your home, why did you choose to adopt from Russia. Nothing too challenging and only about eight minutes in total.

Renee was then asked to approach, so we traded spots. She got many of the same initial questions, but then more questions about Syevinch specifically and our interest in her. We had read that there is still quite a bit of prejudice within Russia and were informed that we may experience some of it in regard to Syevinch's middle-Asian heritage. It did show itself subtly in a couple of questions and it was fascinating to feel my fatherly instincts kick in as I took some offense to this cultural phenomenon. Renee responded well to all of the questions and was asked to return to her seat after about four minutes.

The remainder of the hearing consisted of testimony by the orphanage director (we were surprised to learn that Syevinch had been shown to two Russian families prior to our first visit in September, but that they chose not to accept her for reasons unknown but assumed to be because of either her biracial heritage or her emotional nature) and by the social worker (she approved), before the prosecutor had her opportunity to speak (no objections). The judge then exited the courtroom for her deliberation (lasting maybe two minutes) and returned to state her judgment that Syevinch Rakhmonova Murmonova was officially ours.

The court hearing lasted 20 minutes, but took a year or two off our respective lifespans. The relief was palpable, but we did not have an opportunity to really savor the news together until later in the day. Following the hearing, Vlad drove us to the orphanage. Because of the respective locations of the courthouse and the orphanage on opposite extremes to the north of the city, the drive took over an hour. The timing, however, was nearly perfect in that Syevinch had just finished her lunch by the time we showed up.

We got about an hour and 15 minutes with her today, and despite the initial tears (much less emphatic and of shorter duration), we had a very nice visit. We sat on the floor in a small outer office with Syevinch in Renee's lap. Several caregivers would enter and exit through this small space, each time causing Syevinch to be distracted, and initially, to cry and reach out for the "babas" (babushkas), with whom she was familiar. But we grew more comfortable with each other sitting on the floor in our semi-formal court attire, munching Cheerios, playing peek-a-boo, and getting some legitimate smiles and even a couple of laughs as she and I imitated each other with our hand gestures. I believe that this is when it clicked for both Renee and me that our years-long efforts and the morning's anxiety meant that the three of us were finally a family.

The photos today were rather scant, as I was much more focused on maintaining the bonding that seemed so accessible. But I think you can see from her expressions that we've reached and possibly surpassed the level of connection that we had achieved after five days on our last trip.

We will visit her again on Wednesday, and again on Thursday when we will take her outside the orphanage for those passport photos that we had initially thought might happen today. Then I think that Renee and I are, in fact, going to celebrate the culmination of our efforts by traveling to St. Petersburg for a few days. We plan to be back early next week to continue our daily visits and continued bonding, in the hope that the flight home on December 8 might be more smiles than tears.

When we first learned that we would be away from home over Thanksgiving, I was mildly disappointed, as there are so many traditions surrounding this tranquil holiday. But I think for maybe the first time in my life, I understand the deeper significance of the day and what it is to be truly grateful.

In thanks for you and for her,
Larry & Renee

Chilly with Afternoon Warming

We made it to Moscow, arriving very late Sunday night. It's now after midnight on Tuesday morning here and I'm trying to stay awake long enough to provide our first day's update.

While recognizing that Syevinch is at the center of this adventure, the first thought that struck us while loading our bags into our driver's car at the Moscow airport after midnight Monday morning was not about finally getting to see her again (although it placed a close second and has since regained its initial lead), but about how flipping cold it was. We came prepared for cold, but nothing shakes up your sense of your surroundings like extreme temperatures. Renee and I both may need to buy warmer clothes here (despite our best efforts to "pack warmly") and I may have to give in and wear a hat.

Because of jet lag and lack of much sleep on the flights here, we were pretty exhausted when we finally arrived at our apartment (affectionately referred to as the "Pink Palace"). Yes, the place is pretty pink, which can be tolerated. What they don't mention in the ad for the rental, however, is that it overlooks one of the busiest streets in Moscow, so we have a pretty steady flow of traffic nine stories below us around the clock. (Three weeks ... it's only three weeks....) [Photo at right is the view from our kitchen window at 10:00 p.m.]

After sleeping until noon (or 1:00 a.m. from our bodies' perspectives), we met our driver, Vlad, who chose the coldest day in the coming week to walk us through how to take the subway out to the orphanage, as this will be our primary method of transportation this trip. It was -15°C when we left home at 3:00 p.m., which translates to "damn cold" in Fahrenheit. The subway was no problem, taking only about 30 minutes to get to the end of the line, but it only got us to the general neighborhood — we then had to walk in the wind and snow for another 30 to get to the orphanage (and this was at Vlad's 6-foot-3 pacing — we'll have to add another 10-15 minutes when we slow down to a stride that works for us). Wind chill dropped the temperature to the "why-on-earth-am-I-outside?" range — but when we paused to remember the answer to that question, the cold wasn't so bad.

We spent about an hour and a half with Syevinch, who was absolutely horrified to see us again, howling and crying for a good solid 10 minutes. She finally warmed up once the Cheerios came out, and after that, she was much more content — allowing Renee to hold her and me to feed her. (Thank god for sensory memory and General Mills!) We experienced good signs of mental development as she imitated us shaking a toy to make sounds (thank you to whoever gave us the rattley-lion shown in the bottom photo). We eventually heard quite a few sounds from her as well, but the fact that they were in both Russian and "baby talk" pretty much ensured we had no clue what she was trying to communicate. All in all, it was a good visit. We were, understandably, upset to be greeted with such a pained and painful return, but thrilled that she was willing to let us enter back into her lives after seven weeks away.

After beginning the process of (re-)connecting with her for this brief visit, we recognized that it was getting dark outside and the temperature had already dropped significantly, and that it was time to head out. We took the metro back downtown, walked to the nearest English-speaking restaurant (Hard Rock Cafe), where we ate comfort food (cheeseburgers and fries). After that, we braved the cold once more (and even got a bit of light snow), hitting the Russian equivalent of a 7-Eleven for basic necessities on our way home. Needless to say we were thrilled to remove our layers and relax in the warmth of the Pink Palace.

Tomorrow is our court date. Not sure what to expect, as we've heard from people at both extremes telling us either how easy or how traumatic it will be. I'm hoping that the fact that our translator from the last trip, Masha, will appear with us, so if we happen to say anything stupid, it may get translated to a more appropriate response before reaching the judge.

We may also do passport photos with Syevinch in the morning, which will be an interesting exercise (taking her outside the orphanage grounds for the first time and being totally without caregiver support). We shall see how she does — more importantly, we'll see how we do.

I'll write more as we have time and news.

With love,
Larry & Renee

P.S. I will blame delirium for the lack of photos posted here initially. Sorry for the delay.