Remembering Part 2

It was a sunny morning, warmer than we were expecting it to be in Nizhny Novgorod on July 30, 2008. We took advantage of the beautiful morning and our confused internal clocks and managed an early walk before our trip to the Ministry of Education. Our walk was full of anticipation, nerves and many, many prayers.

Mikhail picked us up and drove us the short distance to the MOE. What we saw and experienced there was so different than we had expected. We approached the turquoise building and opened the heavy door. Inside, we were told to watch our step as we had to navigate the huge hole just one step over the threshold. There was a door laying on the ground to protect us from falling into the crumbling floor; the building seemed in much need of repair. Our walk upstairs and down a long hallway saw improved building conditions and was strangely quiet. Mikhail knocked on a door and we were told to wait outside. My heart was almost pounding outside of my chest.

We then entered a small crowded room and sat in chairs along the wall, our knees touching the paper-filled desk of the director we would meet with. She asked us a few questions through Mikhail, gave us A LOT of information about the government process we were now immersed in, and had us sign many documents. We were then told Ivan's date of birth, last name, and orphanage location. We again signed papers and Mikhail stood to leave. We were done there. My nerves subsided and I let out a little giggle in the hallway. This was for sure the craziest thing we had ever done. And it would prove over and over again to be different than my expectations in almost every way.

We drove the hour and a half to the orphanage with Natasha, Mikhail's partner who also happened to be his mother. She was delightful and engaging, telling us stories and answering our questions. Our nerves felt appropriate but Natasha's experience and confidence calmed us.

We drove through fields and towns, and more fields and towns. Entering the city of Zahvolzhie felt so good but also brought waves of nausea that would stay with me for the next few hours. Our driver parked in front of a collection of pink buildings surrounded by a fence and marked with an iron gate. We had arrived. We couldn't wait to get inside but also felt entirely unsure of what we would encounter there.

Our short awkward wait inside the front door found me scanning and trying to memorize every poster, door, sign, and sound. The invitation to follow Natasha upstairs and into the "family visits room" couldn't have come soon enough. Almost immediately, the orphanage doctor and associate director entered and sat down across from us. Natasha began translating the almost 45 minutes of social and medical history of little Ivan, still unseen by us. Much of the information was shocking. He was born at 29 weeks, weighing 1200g, only 2 pounds and 10 ounces. He "had" a long list of syndromes and diagnoses. My questions couldn't even come out of my mouth fast enough. They told us he was "depressed" and not catching up as they would expect. We were shown pictures of a chubby child around 6 months old (though he was now 16 months old) with brown eyes and light hair. We were asked if we wanted to meet Ivan in person. Of course we agreed. My palms were sweating; my ears were ringing.

The associate director brought in a small, confused, quiet child, looking nothing like the photos we had just seen. Her talking with him was scattered with familiar words like "Mama", "Papa", and his beloved nickname, "Vanya". I asked if I could hold him and she agreed. He was so unsure of me, of my smiles, my strange voice. I held him for a moment and then brought him to the ground to sit with me. He didn't move and didn't respond. He showed no emotion or expression. No intrigue. Just quiet, wide-eyed, pursed lip unsuredness. Almost 15 minutes into our time with Vanya, he turned his head and we caught a glimpse of a smile. My eyes filled with tears and I managed to squeak out, "He smiles" to Phil. This began his gradual engagement with us. We drank up every second. We carefully played with him, talked to him, and touched him. We offered him his first ever cheerio he loved and looked for more and more. He was so tiny. So pale. But life began to leak from his movements and responses. Many of our fears and questions were washed away. I did not see a depressed child (whatever what would look like at 16 months old...), I did not see a child who seemed to possess a long list of diagnoses and syndromes. I saw a small, playful child who I deeply desired to love.

In reality, I had fallen in love with Ivan many months before. Before we even heard of his name or known we would travel to meet him. There is a beautiful miracle in this part of adoption I think. God "grows" these little ones into our hearts and lives, just as He would in our bodies.

The minutes of our visit flew by and we were asked if we wished to proceed with the intent to adopt Ivan. There were so many uncertainties and we felt hopeful but agreeing to move forward took faith and resolve. We knew God had led us to adopt, to Russia, to Nizhny, and now to Baby House #2. We did not know how the story would eventually end, but we knew we must trust the God Who was writing it. Our agreement to move forward also granted us the permission to take photos and video of Ivan. We were thrilled to record these early moments together. Our departure from the orphanage felt manageable and expected. We would come back tomorrow after more time to think, pray, seek advice, and look through the photos and videos countless times.

I would not be telling the whole truth if I didn't mention the stress and doubt and fear that accompanied us for the next few hours and even days. Intermixed in the celebration of finally meeting Ivan were many tears and struggles. We rode back to our hotel whispering and wondering. We walked and walked back in Nizhny, recounting the day's events and sharing our deepest hopes and darkest fears. We took turns asking one another the "He's OK, isn't he...?" question, needing comfort and reassurance every few steps. We wanted to feel peaceful and certain but in truth, our exhaustion overwhelmed us and we felt unsettled and raw with emotion. We emailed friends and doctors and waited in hopeful expectation for their replies. We again and again returned to God's faithful guidance and perfect provisions. We trusted that in time He would bring peace. Though much seemed uncertain, we were sure that God had led us to this very day.