A Little Looking Back

A post with words will follow soon. Here are photos from the last 6 months home. It is amazing to see how much Ivan has changed! Especially all of that gorgeous hair he has now...what the photos at the end of this post do not show is how close to "mullet-status" he is. We are going to have to do something about that. But I will also tell you that we saw some of the BEST mullets ever worn by a human when we were in Nizhny...maybe we should let him give it a try? :)

Meeting Ivan. July 2008. 16 months old

Pictures taken in between our trips on the camera we left for the orphanage staff to document the 3 months until we could come back.

Trip #2. October 2008. 19 months old.

(The one of Ivan and I was taken on our last morning in Moscow by another adoptive parent in our hotel...such a treasure for me!)

November 7, 2008. Finally HOME! 19 Months old

December 2008. 1 month home. 20 months old.

January 2009. 2 months home. 21 months old.



















February 2009. 3 months home. 22 months old!

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.

Remembering

6 months ago today, on July 29, 2008, we landed in Moscow, Russia eager to travel to Nizhny Novgorod, the city which held the tiny boy we had traveled to Russia to meet. I have been feeling very reflective and sentimental as I remember the days of our referral trip and relive some of the emotions I felt while in that far away land. And I am remembering the days leading up to this trip and feeling so thankful that I held on, or that God held onto me during what became a very trying time.

It seemed that every time hope eluded me during our adoption process, God came near. I love that He does that. I love that "just in the nick of time" He throws out a phone call, a letter, an email, a rainbow, a book, or a deep and quiet whisper that reminds me that He is not only near, but is and has been at work throughout all that seems scary, chaotic, and lonely.

On July 1, 2008, I went to see Brenda who worked for our adoption agency in a regional office near my parents' house. I was leaving on July 2 to head home to CA and was at the absolute end of myself with our process. We had been registered in NN for 5 months and had been "next" in line to receive a referral for much of that time. Our agency seemed to literally be falling apart at the seams as Russia program directors and family coordinators were coming and going faster than I could even keep us with. Families were leaving our agency. Families were pulling out of Russia all together and there was no word at all coming from NN.

I told Brenda that I was done. I had lost hope and lost trust and had tremendous doubt and frustration. We felt very led to our agency many months ago and had committed to stay with them. We felt like switching agencies or pulling out all together would be (in our specific case) forgetting that God had called us and would be faithful to finish what He had started. But then I began to doubt that. I became allured by the quick referrals and glowing reports that were coming from other families in other places.

I cried a lot with Brenda. I vented. She listened and answered my questions with confidence and empathy. I told her I didn't know if I (we) could stick it out. I told her I had lost my hope somwhere in the months leading up to our meeting. She handed me kleenex and let me panic and stress and even grieve what was happening. And then she spoke words that were the "lifelines" from the Lord that I needed. She said that often times she had seen families get "the call" just as they had come to the end of themselves, when they were about to give up or jump ship or close the pages of the dream all together. She said she hoped we could hold on.

I drove back to my parents' house feeling sad and embarrassed and a little bit hopeful. I felt like the Lord was urging me to press on, to hold fast. I had many examples of people who had endured far more and had much more hope and faith in the process. I shared the details of the meeting with Phil and said I felt like we did need to press on and hold fast, that the end was near.

And near it was. Only 6 days after this meeting with Brenda, we received our referral. The referral with the HUGE lifelines of hope for us. His name was Ivan, the name of a Russian martyr whose biography I had just finished reading. He was born to an 18 year old girl, the same age as many of the students I work with each and every day. And he was born in April 2007, perhaps one of the hardest months of our married life and a time of much questioning and crying out to the Lord. It was also the month that we re-committed to our adoption process, (actually on Ivan's birthday we would later find out!), after a few months of putting it on hold for some possible job changes, etc.

And on July 8, my birthday, I called our agency to say YES! we would travel to meet little Ivan. The days that followed were emotional and busy. I felt like I was living in a tornado of papers, details, travel plans, suitcases, looming questions, and almost more excitement than my heart could manange to contain. The day was here...finally here. We had held on and are now forever grateful that we did.

6 months ago we landed in Russia, quickly confornted with the sights and sounds of a country that seemed completely unaware of us or the purpose for our travel. We boarded a train to Nizhny Novgorod and fell into a fitful sleep in the city we had been desperatley waiting to visit. The few days that followed changed our lives forever. They changed me. I will never forget. I am committed to remember.

Could it be true?

I simply can not believe that Christmas was 1 month ago. I don't know whether I am more shocked at how recent it seems or how terribly long ago it seems, and I don't know how it can seem both ways, but it does.

We were so excited to have Ivan home for Christmas and loved all of the "firsts" associated with the entire season. As I previously stated, Advent is my very favorite season and he joined us for our nightly Advent devotions as a family. We did have to move our time of reading, singing, and candle-lighting to the kitchen table so that he could be secured in his highchair and not run away with any lit candles :) Ivan loved the flickering lights each night. And I loved that when we sang our songs every evening he also would "sing". He loves music and can often be heard "singing along" in our music-filled home...absolutely priceless!

The Christmas tree decorating tradition had to be slightly altered as well (i.e. Ivan could not be ANYwhere near anything that might break...he is so stinkin' fast!), but it was so special and fun to hang the ornaments and see his eyes light up in wonder as the tree became more and more filled. Well, it was really only "filled" from about 3 feet off the floor and up, the bottom only held those felt and cross-stitched ornaments that are very, very shatter proof.

Because we wanted to keep our plans fluid and wait to see how we would all be doing in terms of adjustment, etc. we decided to DRIVE from our home in southern California to my family's home in Nashville, Tennessee. Yes, I said drive. 33 hours. 4 days in our minivan with 4 children. It was wonderful! We had such a fun time singing, reading, laughing, talking, and taking in the very long drive. We spent a full day in Dallas, Texas visiting friends and family and all in all had a great trip. We would do it again. Although next time we will wait until we do not have a child in diapers (a stinky diaper has no mercy on a closed-up minivan looking desperately for anywhere to stop!) and we will also remember that in Texas, even when the speed limit is 80mph and there seems to be NOTHING around anywhere, there are highway patrolmen who will stop you and "issue you a speeding violation" (Phil, not me!).

Christmas in Tennessee was wonderful also. We loved all of the time to play outside, enjoy some good rainstorms, and see dear family and treasured friends. All of the kids were so good on our long vacation there and we loved the opportunity for our family to get to know Ivan more and for him to be more and more comfortable with them. Phil's sister and her family even came down from Indiana with Phil's mom and we loved spending special time with them. Ivan loved exploring my mom's house too. He was into everything and up ON everything. We have a serious climber on our hands. There is a theme that emerges as I look at the photos of Ivan over the last few months--he loves to be "in" things--boxes, laundry baskets, toy buckets, upside down pic-nic tables, dollhouses, dog crates, etc.

Since returning from Tennessee, things have seemed full-speed and a bit overwhelming at times. Our life is wonderfully full, but VERY full. Our walls feel like they are closing in on us at times. It is not "Ivan", it is the addition of another breathing body. It is adjusting to a child who is almost fully dependent after a time span of fairly independent kids. It is not being able to take your eyes off of a child for a SINGLE second that he is awake because he loves the toilet, dumping the dog food into the dog's water dish, climbing up onto a chair and the ONTO the table, pushing every button imaginable--especially the ones that turn on that fabulous dishwasher, and throwing things into the dirty clothes hamper or trashcan! He a busy little boy who is such a sponge right now--watching and listening, taking it all in. He is learning a few words (more, dog, NO!, MaMa, DaDa, baba for bottle, that, bye-bye, night-night, etc.), and is signing a bit, but is mainly communicating through pointing. He understands everything it seems and will RUN for the bathroom if anyone mentions the word "bath" or immediately do the sign for "eat" if you mention snacks, food, or eating.

Wow, Christmas was a month ago. And so much has happened since then. So many changes and firsts and experiences I never want to forget. It sometimes feels like we have had to cram a full 21 months of life and newness and relationship into the 10 weeks that we have been home. There are times when that feels exhausting. Some times I feel like my mind and heart can't keep track of it all. I can only imagine what must be going on in Ivan's little mind...what a change of life for this sweet little soul. I can't imagine anotherday without him!

Toothbrushes, Ninjas, and Dog treats...Oh My!

What you need to know is that I have 'written' some really good blog posts: in my car, at the post office, in the pediatrician's office, in the shower...the problem is they just never make it onto my computer. I think this might be a sign that I need (wink) one of those snazzy new Bl*ckberry phones, but I am not sure.

The reality is that I have a lot to say and feel a bit overwhelmed at what it takes to get it all out. I have lots of stories to tell and confessions to make. I have questions to ask and things I simply just want to get off my chest. I am not good at taking "just a quick minute" to do much of anything--but these days, quick minutes are really all I have. Here is why:



I am not sure if you can see them all, but there are 12 toothbrushes in this cup. This is not staged. These are really all in my bathroom, our ONLY bathroom. And praise the Lord there are not 12 of us sharing it, BUT IT SURE SEEMS LIKE IT! When I walked into the bathroom today with tub toys, a towel, some dirty undies (not mine however), a hairband, and a few other things, I noticed the toothbrush cup. I grabbed my camera right away because it was the perfect picture of what our life feels like...like 12 people sharing a teeny, tiny bathroom!

In all honesty, things are going great. Ivan is growing and learning and laughing a lot. What he has not been doing a ton of is sleeping. But the last 2 nights have been a bit better. Oh, there is such a story to tell about how all of this started...it will make it here in the next few days...but tonight I will simply say that he is sleeping better again...Hallelujah!

So much has happened since I last wrote. So much. Here are a few of the updates and highlights:

• Ivan LOVES grape tomatoes. This is what happens if you don't keep your eye on the refrigerator to make certain that is closes all the way. I promise, he is like a ninja...he appears out of nowhere and then...
  

• 

(What you do not see here is a kitchen floor filled with spilled grape tomatoes...nope, not this time...Mommy has learned!)

• Ivan has a strong affection for airplanes. He hears them and throws his head back to see way up in the sky. He spreads out his arms and sways his little body. It is precious.

• Ivan also likes the swing-set. A lot. And he is not at all afraid of the ladder or the slide. Well, maybe now he is little afraid of the slide because that super cute gray sleeper from the refrigerator picture goes REALLY fast down the slide.

• He sings and dances when he hears music. (You should picture his arms slightly raised and his little legs bouncing...a bit like the "raise the roof" move, but with a little less rhythm!)

• Although Ivan has plenty of foods he likes, he is far more interested in feeding our dog.
  

• Speaking of the dog, the other day while I was helping Barrett and Maggie with homework, I heard a package rustling around the corner. Noticing that the little ninja master was out of sight, I whipped around the counter to find Ivan with a bag of dog treats. With wide-eyed shock that he had been found, Ivan pulled a dog treat out of his own mouth and gave it straight to our dog...a match made in heaven!

• His laugh still makes us all laugh and that smile...oh that smile!

There will be more stories and photos in coming days...I promise. But for now I need to go figure out WHO is using all of those toothbrushes...

Overwhelmed

We are still here...thriving in fact...it just might seem we have vanished from sight. Today is our 27th day home. The days have been full and busy and wonderful.

Ivan is adjusting so well. He is quite the celebrity around here--the older kids love to show him off at school, sports practice, etc. and he honestly eats it all up...(we have a charmer on our hands for sure).

Speaking of eating, our little man continues to eat almost everything we offer--with only a few exceptions, he loves it all. And he eats lots of it. And he loves to ask for more. And sometimes even more. Being a first time adoptive parent, I asked my doctor about this. "He would eat all day if I let him...Is this a problem?" My doctor's kind reply was, "He has some serious catching up to do so LET HIM EAT!" And now speaking of catching up, Ivan has officially added 3 full pounds since "gotcha day"! He literally looks like a different child...full, rosy cheeks, more hair, and a few yummy little fat wrinkles here and there. He has the smiley-est eyes and a glowing grin. He is full of life.

To recap a bit, Thanksgiving was simply splendid as Ivan and I flew to be with almost my entire side of the family in Tennessee. It was such a treat to show Ivan off to my parents, siblings, nieces, cousins, second cousins, my dear grandmother (see super cute photo to the right!), aunts, uncles, friends and other loved ones there. We had a huge reunion-type gathering. It was unforgettable. Some highlights of the trip were: Ivan playing in leaves for the first time, enjoying the wide open spaces that make Tennessee so beckoning (translation-me running after Ivan as he realized he could literally run FOREVER there!), meeting his huge new family, and honestly just about each and every moment in-between. He loved every dog he saw (please remember that he thought our 6 pound dog was going to devour him when he first came home), he laughed and laughed with his deep belly laugh that is so contagious it makes my cheeks hurt, he couldn't get enough of the swing or really just the outdoors in general, he brought so much joy. He reminded me constantly how much we have to be thankful for.

As I mentioned, Ivan is thriving. There are almost too many stories to tell. He is funny and silly, curious and active, snuggly and super sweet. He gets whiny, mad, stubborn, and pitches little fits. And I love it all. It is still really hard for me not to bite his little cheeks and nibble on his yummy little neck--all the time. He gets into everything. EVERYTHING. He is holding his own in our busy house--even with the dog who is a bit irritated that Ivan has taken a liking to his crate and cozy dog-bed. He is picking up some sign language and never wants to get out of his bath. He gets perfectly still when I start to give him is bottle just before bed. My brother's family gave him a sock monkey and he adores it. He carries it around and cuddles it in bed. Seriously, there are just too many stories.

With this being the first week of Advent (which happens to be my very favorite time of year), I have been doing a lot of reflecting. This is the Hope week. We lit the Hope candle on Sunday and get to live in this space focused on the Hope that Jesus is and brings all week long. I had the chance to share a bit about our journey to Ivan in chapel at the University where I work last night and in preparations for my talk, I was overwhelmed. I was overwhelmed with the LONG list of prayers answered and miracles experienced during our journey to Ivan. I was overwhelmed at the sweet and tender mercies that God showed me over and over and over again. I was overwhelmed at all of the times God stepped in and blessed and encouraged me when my hope was almost gone. I was overwhelmed at the thought of what a miracle Ivan is. He is hope realized, seen, smelt and held. Hope. Here. With us. Sleeping soundly only a few feet away. Again, I am overwhelmed.

I am so excited to travel through the rest of this Advent season as we prepare to celebrate Jesus' birth. I feel so full, so blessed, so thankful. So overwhelmed with hope.

One Week

Ivan and I have been home one week today. My tiredness tells me it has been much longer, but it has really seemed like a blink. He continues to be a joy and loving him is a deep privilege. We are learning routine, relationship, and what it looks like to be a family of 6. (This attempt of a photo of our 4 went really well I think :) As I said, we are LEARNING what it looks like to be a family of 6...or 7 if we count Ivan's closest pal and greatest rival...our dog!) Before I move onto what is heavy on my heart, I will share a precious photo of Ivan. When I look at him I just can't believe it is real. He is ours. Two weeks ago today, he slept his last night in the #7 crib in a room with 15 others. Tonight as I rocked him to sleep, I said over and over again, "You are home... You are home...Finally home."

Today has been an interesting one. Phil's brother and his family lost their home last night in a fire. Everything. We are so thankful they are all OK, but grieving with them this tremendous loss. Their kids has lost their favorite things, and the family photos and home movies are now among the charred rubble where their house once stood. It literally burned to the ground. It is a sobering and haunting image to picture them standing where their house once was and looking around to find almost nothing that was once theirs.

It has made me do some thinking today. My heart aches for their loss and grief, for their kids and for them as parents as they try to navigate this loss not only for themselves, but also for their children, our nieces and nephews. This will impact them for the rest of their lives.

I have also been blessed tremendously by the community that is rising up to help, support, and bless them and the other families who have been affected by this tragedy. Strangers want to help. Many of our friends, who have never even met Phil's brother and their family, want to know what they can do, what they can buy, how they can help. I am so thankful for the love that is already emerging to help them through this time. I know that it is not about the replaceable things, but about the things which can't be re-purchased, etc. But what blesses my heart right now are the huge hearts that are ready and willing to do whatever they can. Our family has also experienced this beautiful grace this year.

We have been blessed repeatedly this year by the kindness and generosity of many, many people. Some we already knew, some we know now, and some we will never even meet. When I think of how Ivan's life has changed in these last two weeks, I am convinced that our greatest gift to him is not from us at all. His greatest "gain" is this rich community of people who love, give, and sacrifice. His greatest gain is our greatest blessing also.

Please pray for Dave, Jill and their kids tonight. We are asking God to draw very, very near.