Picture worth a thousand words...

When we arrived at the Baby House this morning, Peter's group was at the playground. His friends saw us first, and started calling, "Peter, Peter!" Then out of the crowd Peter came running toward me saying "Mama, Mama!" and gave me a big hug. God is so good. I couldn't believe my ears and eyes.

All Peter's little friends are so excited for him. I still feel bad for little Sasha though. He was so sweet trying to win us over. But when I asked if we could take two, the Ministry of Education said it was not permitted. I hope he'll have a family soon--he's blond, blue eyes, cute, skinny, and very affectionate. I imagine it won't be long. But when he turns 4 in couple of months he'll move to the orphanage for older kids. Must get some sleep now...we're almost adjusted. Thanks for all the love and support!

If you're so inclined, a prayer request we have is for protection thru the rest of the bonding period, and the court appearance that should happen in about two weeks. Many adoptions seem to get caught up on some legality or timing issues just when all seems to be going smoothly. And "a praise," we are now in a fantastic apartment right in the center of town--a totally different experience. It's modern and clean with so much going on right outside. We got to admire the Friendship Day celebrations from our balcony and were told to expect fireworks after dark. So tired though, we might sleep right thru them~

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.

First Impressions

This is my initial post to our web log, and you’ll quickly see my style is different than Stephanie’s. I’ve promised her not to be overly cynical or profane--so as not to sully the spiritual nature of our quest to adopt a son. Still, I expect even a cleaned-up version of my random thoughts will offend some… perhaps amuse others. If you count yourself in this first group consider yourself warned.

It’s our first morning in Oskemen, Kazakhstan. The city is in the uppermost northeast corner of the country, near it’s boarder with Russia, China and Mongolia. I’m listening to Ray LaMontagne’s album, ‘Till the Sun Turns Black as we prepare to make our first visit to the orphanage (baby house they call it). The music is a perfect soundtrack for the melancholic tenor of the city, and I’m so grateful to Nick Greiner for his referral (and Bill Samson for seconding the endorsement).

Being here reminds me how much for which we’re to be thankful. The apartment building would pass for a Hells Kitchen tenement. I’m afraid to let my kids in the elevator or outside. The smell of diesel fuel and burning garbage mix in a way that coats your throat, so you’re not sure if you’re getting sick or if it’s just the poor air quality.

Still, the apartment itself belies the building and neighborhood: hardwood floors, fairly clean and sufficient amounts of hot water. With a bit of luck, we’ll get upgraded to a more modern apartment in a better part of town tomorrow… someplace near a park and where I can get a cup of coffee without threat of being mugged. In either case, I’m sure I’ll never forget the time I’m spending here. Beyond the obvious reason, I’m getting more quality time with Katrina (8) and Isabelle (3) than ever. I have memories of traveling abroad with my Dad at Katrina’s age and I’m sure she’ll remember these weeks.

I’m looking now at a photo of the boy the orphanage has named Peter. He’s a Caucasian boy of three we think. No one knows much about him though. He was abandoned at the trolley station close to the orphanage about 15 months ago. The caregivers named him Peter and if we succeed in adopting him, we intend to name him Nicholas, a name we like for several reasons--not the least of which is our fondness for the aforementioned Nick Greiner.

That’s all for now… more after we’ve made our visit to the baby house and can find an Internet café to make this blog post.

"Ms. Connie, it's Isabelle. I'm ready to go to the mall."

Thank God for Connie! She just got my darling little bugger out from under my feet. It's a crazy wonderful day and I'm not nearly as ready as I thought!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Remember the "tomorrow, tomorrow..." posting?

Well, now tomorrow really IS tomorrow. We leave tomorrow. I have never been so prepared for a trip in my life! Yesterday I picked up antibiotics for all four of us, just in case. I added those to every over the counter remedy and I look like I'm going on a "doctors without borders" mission. I never do this for trips to Argentina or Uruguay, though I should have for Brazil...I guess it's because we don't speak the language. I can't just walk into a pharmacy there and say, I have a sore throat, and get it taken care of.

I can't wait to tell my table of women at Women's Bible Study this morning that we leave tomorrow. And tell Isabelle's Kids Club teachers too. They know all about "Nicholas" from Isabelle. Everything is just coming together now that the timing is right. Even, the glitches have a purpose. Just one example, Justin got delayed about 4 hrs at the Miami Airport last night and his Blackberry was out of juice, so he took a shower at the business travelers lounge. He said it was great because he felt refreshed and changed into more comfortable clothes, and when he was done, Ms. Blackberry was all charged up. Well, when he told me that and I put it together with the 6 hr layover in London, voila'. You guessed it. I am taking a shower in London! Whooopie. Ok, I better have some breakfast. Obviously my hunger pangs should not go ignored.

On a serious note, I realized this morning that this journey has been so amazing already. People we've known for years and people I've just met thru their own adoption stories are surrounding us with love and praying for our protection, and it is just so awesome to feel at the center of what God is doing. I read a quote that stuck with me, "God has a way of using the insignficant to accomplish the impossible." That's how I feel in His hands. I am so insignficant. So pock-marked by the mistakes of my life, the misuse of my tongue, the misleading of the world, and yet He can use me. He is so amazing.

Got 'em

Passports with very fancy visas arrived this morning. Not a rubber stamp like in the old days when I went to Hungary, these things sparkle and glow. Same with Sophie's renewed passport--it has electronic bugs in it, it's thick and every page has a different watermark on it. No more jamming it in a back pocket.

Our agency is really worried about our Almaty connection. We have two and a half hours and have to go thru customs, but the airline guarantees the connection and recommends an hour and a half. If we miss the flight, the worst thing that can happen is we'll have to spend the night at the Hyatt, right? No, maybe the worst thing is we'll have to sleep in the airport. I remember doing that with Lauren Taylor, at Heathrow on our way back from Cairo, and being awoken by a man with a large broom. We were sleeping on the floor because the seats all had arm rests, and he was yelling at us, "no sleeping," and sweeping into our heads. Nice.

Anyhow, now that this show is gettin' on the road, I feel so much better. Other than packing, editing an article, and picking up the antibiotics at the pharmacy, there's really nothing else, and it's only Wednesday. Oh, and coloring my hair cuz that's a risk I'm not willing to take in Kaz! Our friends and neighbors are all helping out in one way or another. It's really amazing...