Our little boy

It’s Tuesday morning and yesterday we made a successful first trip to the baby house. All adoptions in Kazakhstan are meant to be blind, meaning the adoptive parents aren’t supposed to have any sense of who they’re adopting (beyond gender and rough age).

So as we pulled up to the baby house, we were reminded to feign ignorance as the little boy whose picture we’ve had for months came into the room . This was a very special time for the girls and me. The orphanage has been calling the boy Petr which is not his given name (having been abandoned, the orphanage received custody of him and named him). We intend to name him Nicholas, so I’ll stick with that name henceforth.

Nicky came walking in so confidently, but small for three. He has very light brown hair like Katrina’s, very thick like mine. He has brown eyes like Stephanie and Isabelle, and is very gregarious like Sophie (lil’ miss chit-chat). He sat on my lap and gave me a tight hug, so tight and he wouldn’t let go.

Shortly after they brought in another boy, Sasha, which bummed me out. Believe it or not, even at the tender age of 3 these kids seemed to have a sense they’re in a bake-off. At one point, Nicky seemed to show this sense of awareness, when, while sitting on my lap he suddenly burst into tears. He dug his face into my neck, sobbing. Poor little man. It was like he had been missing us all his life.

I wondered how many times Nicky and Sasha had been subjected to batting their eyes and looking cute for prospective parents. How frequent were these sessions and were the kids really aware of what was happening? And if they were, how would affect their developing psyche? Would it make them more resilient or more insecure?

I couldn’t help feeling I should have considered this difficulty and insisted we see kids privately—one at a time. Further, I regretted not fully considering Katrina’s feelings. My 8 year old was visibly shaken from the realization that only one of these children would be adopted and the remaining kids would hope to catch-on with other families.

Still, as the afternoon moved on, everyone’s spirits improved nicely. I’ve attached some photos of Isabelle playing with Nicky and today we’ll return in both the morning and afternoon. I can already tell this morning that Katrina is 1000 times better—she seems to feel a sense of service with Nicky and the others during our visits these weeks.