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