The Little Vij Chronicles

One Year at Home

2011-04-10T19:58:00.003-04:00

One year ago today, we brought our boy home, and despite the months of detailed preparation we had to go through just to meet him in the first place, nothing could have fully prepared us for the past 12 months. It has been wonderful in more ways than I can count. It has also been frustrating, challenging, nerve-wracking, exhausting, and…well, you get the idea.

One of the high points lately has been watching A.J.’s developing prowess as a singer. The other morning in the car, as he was singing along with Paul McCartney in “Hey, Jude” (he’s especially good at the “na-na-na” part), I had to laugh—not just because it’s such a riot to hear a 2-year-old’s rendition of the Beatles, but because A.J. has so completely assimilated himself into our culture, our lives, and our family. I can barely remember a time when he wasn’t with us, singing in the car, leaving a trail of Cheerios around the house, or playing choo-choo with Harv in the living room.

Even so, we’re still waiting for a court date so we can re-adopt A.J. in the U.S. court system. Of course we hope to hear something soon, but based on experience, I’m not holding my breath. Everything in international adoption takes longer than it should, and this is proving to be no exception. The good news is that by now, paperwork feels like a formality more than anything else.

For a number of reasons, including the fact that today marks such an important anniversary, I have decided that this will be my final post. But I plan to leave my blog in place for the time being so people can read about our journey—especially other parents who have adopted or plan to adopt from Russia. It’s an understatement to say that we’re glad we did. A.J. is the light of our lives. Every headache along the way was worth the trouble.

So it’s on to new things. Mark this as the end of one story and the beginning of another. And may the next chapter of our life as a family be half as rewarding as the first!

Thank you for reading and sharing in our adventure.

A Boy and His Cake

2011-02-09T11:25:00.003-05:00

Last year, Harv and I had to celebrate A.J.'s birthday without him because he was still waiting for us in Russia. This year, though, we were able to celebrate the big day as a family. And since a little boy only gets one chance to turn two, we had to do it right.

No parties this time around, but we had plenty of presents (including a toddler laptop, a Curious George balloon, and a new toothbrush), plus a trip to Chuck E. Cheese to play games and eat pizza. Then, of course, there was the cake. A.J. ate all of his - aside from what ended up on the floor.

Maybe next year we'll have a little party with guests and all that, but this year it felt right to stick with just the three of us.

Post-Placement Reports

2011-01-26T10:35:00.004-05:00

An important part of international adoption, at least when it comes to Russia, is periodically filling out "Post-Placement Reports" for the Russian Federation. Our second report was due this week, and I'm happy to say that I just completed it and sent it off to our agency for translation.

These reports typically include questions about the child's overall development, attachment to parents and other family members, eating and sleeping habits, and daily routines. Parents are encouraged to include plenty of details, and accompanying photos are required.

I like the idea of someone on the other side of the ocean being concerned about A.J., but I wonder if these reports are more a formality than anything else. Maybe someone reads every last word; I don't know. I fully understand the need for us to do them, and I will continue to put my best efforts into preparing them when they come due. But I doubt they ever end up in the hands of the people who I really would like to see them: A.J.'s caretakers at the orphanage, Anna and Vitaly, and all the people who knew A.J. before his name was A.J.

I wish there were a way to let our friends know how well A.J. is doing. I wish Anna--who urged us to "feed him, feed him, feed him"--could see how chubby his cheeks have gotten. I wish his caretakers from the orphanage could see how well he plays and gets along with other kids (usually). I wish I could say to all of them, "See? He's happy here, and we're taking very good care of him!"

In this way, I suppose it's a good exercise to fill out these reports. It gives me a chance to reflect on where A.J. came from, to think about the people who helped us, and to remember that Russia is a part of our family's identity and always will be.

Maybe the higher-ups who require these reports understand that. And maybe that's exactly why they require them.

Happy Day!

2011-01-05T11:17:00.006-05:00

One of A.J.'s new phrases (along with "Hi, Mom," and "my boots") is, "Happy day!" This cheerful little nugget came in handy not only for my mom's birthday, but throughout the Christmas season and New Years as well. It helps that A.J. always says it with a pleasant lilt to his voice--just the thing to make your day happy!

The picture shows our New Years snowman--a.k.a. "Frosty" because we didn't have the energy to come up with anything more original. Frosty lived for less than a day due to unseasonably warm temperatures on New Years, but he will live on in our memories as A.J.'s first snowman.

The year ahead will be a busy one, no doubt. First on the docket is A.J.'s birthday in February. He will turn two amid much pomp and circumstance, though the party has yet to be planned by his busy mother. Second, or perhaps concurrently, will come our opportunity to re-adopt A.J. in a US court. People ask me about this process, as in, why do we have to do it? I don't know the answer for sure, but I do know that every family who adopts a child internationally has to do the same thing. I've heard that the day in court can turn out to be quite a celebration, too, and I welcome that part of it.

Why? Because it will give us all another chance to say "Happy Day!"

We're awaiting word from our agency (Does that sound familiar, or what??) as to when the court date will take place. In the meantime, we will continue to enjoy our life as a family in 2011. Here's looking forward to a wonderful year ahead!

Enough Said

2010-12-08T14:03:00.002-05:00

One year ago today, we met A.J. for the first time.

Hi, Christmas Tree!

2010-12-01T11:53:00.011-05:00

I went back to read some of my blog entries from December 2009 and realized that exactly a year ago, Harv and I were getting ready for our first trip to Russia. No wonder we’ve been feeling such a strong sense of nostalgia lately. If only we could return to Moscow for one last bowl of borscht at our favorite restaurant, or take a late night stroll in Red Square under the falling snow.

It's strange to think that a year ago today, we hadn’t even met A.J. yet. At the time we had no idea who our child would be, and now we know that nobody in Russia had any idea, either. But through some series of miracles, we ended up with the one child in the universe who was meant to be ours. What a fitting way to begin what people call the season of miracles!

I decided a few weeks ago that this year, Harv and I would have our own Christmas tree for the very first time. In the past, a tree just hasn’t been practical for us because we usually travel at Christmastime, and it seemed like such a hassle to have to put it up and then take it down without even being home to enjoy it. But this year, things are different. Not only are we going to be home for Christmas, but we have A.J. now, so a Christmas tree is an absolute must.

A few days before Thanksgiving, I went online and ordered the simplest tree imaginable: a 4-foot, pre-lit artifical pine from Wal-mart, complete with free delivery. When it arrived, I stuck the box in our office and went to the dollar store to buy some cheap garland and red bows. Then last Friday, Harv and I took the tree out of the box and decorated it while A.J. played next door. The decorated tree now sits in a corner of our living room--and for under 40 dollars, I must say it’s absolutely gorgeous.

This morning at 6:30 I picked A.J. up out of his crib like I usually do and carried his soft, pajama-clad body into the living room. As we rounded the corner, there sat our first-ever family Christmas tree, twinkling in the semi-dark. I stood still to look at it for a while because I couldn't help myself, and A.J. lifted his head from my shoulder to look with me. Then he waved his chubby little hand and chirped, “Hi, Christmas tree!”

"Hi, Christmas tree," I echoed.

Last year at this time, Harv and I were looking at the giant Christmas tree in Red Square and saying what a miracle it was to find an actual Christmas tree in Red Square, of all places. Who would have ever predicted that? This year, miles and miles from Red Square, we're looking at the Christmas tree in our living room and enjoying a few miracles of our own.

Six Months at Home

2010-10-10T16:27:00.006-04:00

What better way to celebrate a six-month anniversary than a trip to the pumpkin patch?

One of A.J.’s favorite activities these days is watching the videos we took in Russia right before we brought him home. He likes to sit at the kitchen table while I play the scenes over and over for him on my laptop: A.J. learning to walk, A.J. playing with toys, A.J. sitting on Daddy’s lap, A.J. babbling like an itty-bitty baby. But as much as he enjoys watching, it’s hard to tell how much of it registers with him. Does he really remember the place where he used to live, or is he just fascinated with the pictures and sounds?

Six months ago today, we brought A.J. home, and if it weren’t for the videos, I would have a hard time remembering exactly what he looked like back then. I can’t believe how much he has grown and changed in such a short time. Back in April, Harv and I thought A.J. looked like a pretty healthy kid—and fundamentally, he was. But now, sitting next to him and watching scenes from six months ago on my laptop, the little boy in my kitchen looks rosy-cheeked and chubby compared to the pale and skinny kid on the computer screen.

To put it mildly, A.J. is thriving. At almost 30 pounds, he’s getting harder to pick up and carry around. He loves his new preschool, and his vocabulary is growing by the second. Two days ago he surprised me by looking out the window and saying “lawnmower.” Admittedly, it came out sounding like “monmo,” but when I looked outside, sure enough, there was a guy out there mowing the lawn, so I had to give him the benefit of the doubt. Then, just yesterday, he added “ribbit” to his repertoire of animal sounds, and his variations on “cock-a-doodle-doo” have kept Harv and me in stitches for the past week.

Six months ago I had no idea how much change and stress lay ahead for the three of us. But now—dare I say it?—I feel like we’re entering a period of happy equilibrium as a family. That doesn’t mean I think parenting (or being) a toddler is easy. It just means that our “familyhood” is starting to feel more settled. For that and much more, we’re very thankful.

Full Circle

2010-09-20T14:47:00.005-04:00

Two years ago, on a cloudy Sunday afternoon in September of 2008, Harv and I went to a picnic sponsored by our adoption agency for families who had already adopted from Russia or who, like us, were about to. We met a number of parents who had once been in our shoes, and they were more than willing to give us advice about what to expect and how to prepare. I appreciated their generosity, but even so, I found myself feeling completely bewildered when we left the park that day. We had done little more than fill out an application and make a deposit, and already people were telling us where to eat in Moscow and which window to go to at the department of such-and-such. How would I remember it all?

I wouldn’t, of course—partly because I promised myself shortly after the picnic to take things as they came and try not to get ahead of myself. I knew that if I got bogged down in trying to anticipate every little detail and prepare for every last contingency, by the time we brought our child home, I would have driven myself crazy.

Looking back, I was almost able to keep my promise.

Yesterday, after a one-year hiatus, our agency once again held a “Russia picnic",but this time, Harv and I were the ones with experience. While we took turns playing in the sandbox with A.J., couples preparing to travel and meet their child for the first time hunted us down to ask questions and get our advice. We told them what we could—including the names of our favorite restaurants in Moscow—but I knew deep down that there was no way to fully prepare them for the experience.

Sure, I could have told them about our first visit to the Ministry of Education in Moscow, where we sat in the waiting area for over an hour, afraid that no child would be available for us because the one we were “supposed” to meet had just been placed with a Russian family.

I could have told them about the day of our court appearance, when our agency rep was called in ahead of us to answer questions for the judge. “This never happens,” said our interpreter. “It must mean that something is wrong. Maybe the judge will not see you.” But it turned out to be nothing—we had written captions under some photos for our file, and the judge couldn’t read English.

I could have told them about the day we showed up at the U.S. Embassy with barely enough cash to pay for A.J.’s visa, all because of a misunderstanding about which day we were supposed to be there.

I could have told them that we happened to fly home with A.J. four days before a volcanic eruption in Iceland grounded thousands of planes throughout the Northern Hemisphere.

I could have told them that during our first few weeks at home with our son, I felt as if a hurricane had struck, and I couldn’t imagine things ever calming down again.

I could have told them dozens of other stories, too, but it wouldn't have made any sense, not at this point in their journey. They didn’t need to hear about the low points, the narrow escapes, or the times when fear and doubt took over. They only needed to hear that in the end, everything would be okay. So instead of telling them about all the wild and unexpected things that happened to us along the way, I kept it simple and told them exactly what I wish people had said to me at the picnic two years ago: “Every adoption is different. You’ll be fine. Just take things as they come.”

F-I-S-H-I-E-S

2010-09-03T14:02:00.004-04:00

Looking back, August was a busy month for the Vij trio, including a trip to Iowa, our niece’s wedding, A.J.’s baptism, a two-week visit from Grandma, and more play dates than I can count. Unfortunately, my blog has fallen by the wayside during this time, but I look forward to posting more regularly now that things are beginning to calm down. After this weekend and the Labor Day holiday, I imagine we’ll get back into something resembling a routine, which means I can get back to writing again.

In the meantime, one of the more interesting developments over the past few weeks has been A.J’s steady accumulation of language skills. I suppose this shouldn’t surprise me; after all, he works with a language teacher once a week, and he’s a pretty smart cookie to boot. Still, every time he says a new word, I have to pinch myself. Lately he’s been saying a lot of them: thank you, woof-woof, spoon, shake-shake, sit, bubbles, birdie, shoes, quack-quack, open, and choo-choo, just to name a few.

Along with A.J.’s growing ability to express himself has come a new understanding of what we say to him, too. Like when we ask, “A.J., want to go outside?” and he heads for the door to put on his shoes. Or, “Should we change your diaper now?” which makes him run for the hills. Or, “Which bib would you like to wear this morning?” which prompts him to think for a moment before pointing to his top choice (usually the orange one with monsters on it).

For Harv and me, the most surprising part of all this is that we already find ourselves in the land of spelling out words we don’t want A.J. to hear. Like “fishies”, for example, which, at our house, usually refers to goldfish crackers. A.J.’s typical response to any passing mention of the word “fishies” is to run to the kitchen and throw a fit until someone offers him a handful of goldfish. It doesn’t matter what else is going on at the time, like, say, his harried parents trying to load the diaper bag and get everyone out the front door, or his busy mom trying to make dinner, fold laundry, and write a blog entry all at the same time. When A.J. hears the word “fishies”, he wants fishies. So to save ourselves some sanity, we’ve learned to spell it out, as in, “Honey, could you make sure to put some F-I-S-H-I-E-S in the bag?”

Other frequently spelled words at the Vij house include B-A-N-A-N-A, B-E-D, C-H-E-E-S-E, and B-A-T-H. The list is growing every day, along with A.J.’s vocabulary. On the surface this might not seem all that remarkable; after all, parents the world over have learned to avoid toddler meltdown by spelling out words in front of their kids. But that’s exactly why I’m so excited about it. A.J. is learning his words like any typical kid--despite the fact that we brought him home from Russia just five months ago, and despite the fact that at the time, he didn’t even recognize his own name.

As writers and lifelong readers, Harv and I have a deep respect for language and all it can do. We realize that while A.J.’s journey might start out in the world of fishies, doggies, bibs, and bananas, his growing ability to express himself through words will continue to open doors for him throughout his life. We’re excited to be a part of it and can’t wait to see which words he will learn next. One thing looks certain: we’re going to have plenty of opportunities to practice our S-P-E-L-L-I-N-G.

What I Learned from the Sushi Guy

2010-07-19T10:27:00.001-04:00

It’s no secret that A.J. has Asian features and I don’t, which makes it doubly interesting (and kind of cool, too) that people everywhere seem to assume he is my biological child. Take the woman at the playground, who happened to be from Nepal, and whom I happened to tell that my husband is from India. She nodded toward A.J.—who happened to be getting himself very dirty in the sandbox—and said, “But he looks like you, especially with his light hair.”

Score one for Mama!

But then there was the sushi guy. Harv and I like to splurge on takeout every now and then, so about once a week I put A.J. in the car and we go to Whole Foods on a sushi run. Much to my endless frustration, A.J. insists on riding in that awful, gargantuan cart with racecar stripes and two steering wheels, which means I can barely navigate through the produce section without knocking over a display of melons. But still, I’ve decided it’s better than listening to him screech and wail his way through the store like all those unruly, ill-tempered little kids I used to roll my eyes at before I had one of my own.

So last week we went to Whole Foods and made all of our customary purchases, including strawberries for A.J., yogurt for Daddy, and an overpriced organic salad for Mama. Then we went to the sushi counter.

“Hello!” said the friendly sushi guy. “You finding what you want?”

“Yes, thank you,” I said, picking out a tray of salmon rolls. Meanwhile, A.J. sat strapped in the cart, making quite a show of driving his racecar. He looked up at the sushi guy and flashed him a big grin.

“Hey,” laughed the sushi guy, “you’re a good driver!”

“Yeah, he has fun, all right,” I said.

Then the sushi guy, who happened to have Asian features just like my son, asked a question I wasn’t prepared for: “Where’s he from?”

I looked at him blankly, and instead of saying what I should have said, “He’s from Waltham, just like his Daddy and me,” I said, “Umm…he’s from Russia.”

“Oh! He doesn’t look Russian.”

Now I had to explain. “Well, you know, Kazakhstan and all the republics…”

Still smiling, the sushi guy nodded. “Oh, yeah…that makes sense.”

Now, before anyone gets on my case for feeling obligated to explain my son’s ethnicity to a stranger in a hairnet—and believe me, I’ve berated myself enough already—let me restate that this whole conversation caught me way off guard. Even now, looking back, I’m not sure what to make of it.

Among the many questions that linger: What made the sushi guy assume A.J. was from anywhere in particular? And does he make it a practice to ask parents where their kids are from? Did it even occur to him that I was A.J.’s mother, and if not, what’s up with that? Or, did he feel some sense of kinship with A.J. because of their shared Asian-ness, and therefore feel justified in asking a rather unorthodox—and, I might add, inappropriate—question?

Even more baffling to me right now is the question of what to do when this kind of thing comes up again in the future. Because it will. My son doesn’t look like me, and people are bound to notice. Sure, some won’t think a thing of it. Others will notice, but they won’t say anything. But every so often, someone will ask one of those questions that they really shouldn’t, and I’ll have to figure out how—or whether—to answer them.

My top priority, of course, is to protect A.J. from feeling badly because he’s different. But is he really that different? Lots of families don’t fit the traditional mold. It’s no longer so very strange to encounter mixed ethnicities within the same household. And my experience thus far having a Russian-Asian son and an Indian husband indicates that people wholeheartedly embrace the idea of a happy, loving, normal, imperfect-but-doing-their-best family, regardless of how they came together or what they look like. Even the sushi guy, with his awkward line of questioning, seemed genuinely accepting and kind.

Looking ahead, I’m sure there will be more questions to catch me off guard in the future, and I’m pretty sure I’ll flub the answers every time. I’ve always been one of those people who thinks of the right thing to say about an hour later, or maybe the next day. But even so, I intend to help my son celebrate who he is, no matter what anyone might say or think. He’s a wonderful kid, and if he ever doubts it, he can just ask someone in his happy, loving, normal, imperfect-but-doing-their-best family.

The Dilemma

2010-07-10T14:08:00.010-04:00

I can’t remember exactly what her son was doing at the time, but I do remember that my friend with the adopted 3-year-old boy wasn’t happy about it. “It’s hard to tell,” I remember her saying, “whether he’s doing this because he’s a normal kid going through a normal phase, or if he’s doing it because he’s adopted.”

And that, I have found, is the adoptive parent’s dilemma. We want our kids to feel normal in every way, because they are. But aren't there times when we have to acknowledge the impact that adoption can have on their psyche?

A.J. has been at home with us for three months now, and Harv and I continue to go back and forth about the YMCA. Our family membership entitles us to “free” babysitting while we exercise or attend a class. Before we brought A.J. home, we both had visions of dropping him off for an hour or so and letting him play in the babysitting room while we hit the treadmills. Well, guess what? I’ve tried it three times now, and here’s how it went each time:

FIRST TRY -- A.J. sees all the toys in the babysitting room and immediately goes for the Elmo doll. I make my escape to the cardio room, where I put in a quick twenty minutes on the elliptical machine. It feels wonderful to move and sweat, but I can’t quite lose myself in the experience because I keep checking the double doors for Jackie, the head babysitter. Any minute now, she might walk in with my sobbing child to tell me he fell apart and can’t stay any longer. But amazingly, Jackie doesn’t show, and I even manage to work in a relaxing, ten-minute stretch before heading back to the babysitting room to pick up my son. Jackie gives me a big smile and a thumbs-up. A.J. did great!

SECOND TRY – A.J. remembers the room with all the toys. He also remembers that the last time we were here, I took off and left him. The moment we enter the babysitting room and I set him down, he grabs my legs and looks up at me pleadingly. Nearby, a red-faced little boy named Oscar sits in his stroller wailing uncontrollably. A.J. follows suit. Determined to be firm, I turn and leave the room. Jackie gives me a knowing look. “They’ve gotta learn some time,” she says with a shrug.

Thirty minutes later, I return to find my distraught son sitting on the floor next to Jackie, gazing dejectedly at the Elmo doll. It’s as if he knows deep down that he’s supposed to be playing—he’s a kid, after all—but he just can’t bring himself to do it when his day is going so badly. I stand and watch him for a moment until he turns his tear-soaked little face toward me, then gets up and scurries over as if he thought I had left him for good. Yes, I feel like the worst mom ever.

Jackie holds up her hand and gives me the “so-so” signal. “He calmed down a little after you left, which is why I didn’t come and get you,” she says. “Plus, I think he and Oscar were feeding off each other.”

I thank Jackie profusely and leave. Ten minutes later, A.J. is asleep in the car.

THIRD TRY – I decide it might be a good idea for me and A.J. to spend some time in the babysitting room together. In the car on the way to the Y, I talk it up enthusiastically. “We’re going to look at the toys for a few minutes,” I tell A.J. over my shoulder. “Then we can go somewhere and get a muffin, okay?”

He sucks his thumb and looks at me.

We arrive at the Y and I pull A.J. from the car seat. As I carry him toward the front door, I feel his body begin to tense up. We go directly to the babysitting room, where Jackie greets us cheerfully.

“A.J., look at all the toys,” I say. “Let’s look around, okay? Ooooh, look at this one!”

A.J. begins to whimper. His arms grip me like a vise. I put him down, but he clings to my legs and cries to be picked up again. I point to the toys. He whimpers. I crouch down to explore the bottom shelf with him. He whimpers.

“Look, A.J.—here’s Elmo!”

But A.J. doesn’t want Elmo. Nor does he want the horsey, or the little bear, or the car. He just wants me to pick him up, RIGHT NOW, and take him away from here. So I do.

What's the solution? Conventional wisdom says to go ahead and leave him. Let him cry it out—it’s the only way he’ll learn that when I leave, I come back again. It might be tough on him for a while, but he’ll figure it out, right?

I wish it were that simple. Instead, here I sit, smack-dab in the middle of the adoptive parent’s dilemma. Is A.J. experiencing the kind of normal separation anxiety that every kid his age goes through, or is it heightened by the fact that he’s adopted? And what if the babysitting room actually reminds him of the orphanage? Just think about it: a room full of toys, a bunch of kids, plus three grown-up ladies who run the show but aren’t actually anybody’s mom. What if, when I leave him there, his young mind somehow equates it with being “sent back?”

Harv wants me to drop A.J. off and get my exercise. “You need your time,” he says. “You have to take care of yourself, too.”

He’s right, of course. But Harv has never actually tried to drop A.J. off at the babysitting room. Until he is forced to look down into that scared little face and convince his son that it will be REALLY FUN to hang out and play with Jackie and Elmo for a while, he can’t possibly know what I’m up against.

So here’s my solution. I’m going to wait. For what, I’m not exactly sure. But in a couple of months, when the time seems right, I’m going to put on my gym clothes and take A.J. back to the Y. By then, he’ll be a little older. We’ll have had him at home long enough for him to understand that we’re his parents and we’re not going anywhere. He may have even forgotten all about the orphanage by then, and he’ll probably feel much better about hanging out with Jackie and Elmo for a few minutes while his mom gets in some exercise. And by then, I hope I'll feel better about it, too.

First Father's Day

2010-06-20T20:28:00.003-04:00

Harv was excited to celebrate his first Father’s Day with A.J. today. We went out for coffee this morning and then to the park, where I snapped this photo of my two favorite guys having a special father-son moment. Harv can get A.J. to laugh harder than anyone else in the world just by throwing him in the air and tickling him. What a great Daddy! Happy Father’s Day to all the wonderful Dads out there, including mine.

In other news, A.J. has recently learned the art of the "high five." I fully anticipate that he will want to give a high five to everyone he runs into for a while, including the mailman, his pediatrician, and anyone who happens to be standing in the elevator with us. A week from now, he'll give up the high five and start doing something else. Ah, the joys of toddlerhood....

Two Months at Home

2010-06-10T20:24:00.004-04:00

It’s hard to believe, but Harv and I brought A.J. home from Moscow just two months ago today. At the time, he was barely walking and couldn’t lie down to sleep without crying inconsolably for up to an hour. Now he’s outrunning us at the playground and sleeping almost twelve hours a night, plus taking a nap or two during the day.

According to a non-scientific study we conducted recently with our bathroom scale, A.J. has gained over three pounds since we brought him home. He says “down” when he wants down, “meh” when he wants milk, and “uh-oh” when the ball rolls under the sofa. Not bad for a kid who could only babble “ya-ya-ya” a few weeks ago! He’s a friendly little guy who says hi to anyone and everyone, and who acts so much like a normal toddler that we sometimes forget how far he had to travel to get where he is today.

Harv and I had dinner the other night with a good friend and adoptive mom who brought her son home from Russia at about this time last year. The three of us sat and talked about how tough it can be to settle in as a family after adopting a toddler.

“I remember breaking down one day shortly after I brought him home,” she said. “I thought I had made a huge mistake and should send him back.” Luckily her friend with two biological children informed her that many parents, adoptive or not, feel the same way at one time or another. A few days later she began to feel much better about life with her new son, and since then, she has grown magnificently into her role as a single mom.

As for me, I remember the night A.J. woke up crying for the umpteenth time at 3:30 in the morning while Harv and I, already sleep-deprived from three weeks of nighttime wailing (his, not ours), sat in the living room wondering what on earth we had gotten ourselves into. Night after night we had tried everything: rubbing his back, playing soft music, sleeping on the floor next to him, talking to him in a soothing voice, putting stuffed animals in the crib (which he promptly dropped over the side), and eventually leaving him alone to cry it out. My head throbbed from stress and lack of sleep. I had to wonder, is he crying so much at night because he's really afraid? Or because he's a toddler, and that's what toddlers do?

“I can’t do this anymore,” I moaned. “He just keeps on crying. Why can’t he wear himself out and go to sleep?”

“We can’t live like this,” Harv said bleakly. “I’ve got to go to work in the morning.”

We slept for three fitful hours on the living room floor, unaware that we had already reached rock bottom and our situation would soon improve. The following weekend, after noticing how much A.J. liked curling up in small, enclosed spaces like cubbyholes and boxes, we moved his crib into the walk-in closet. He actually loved the new space so much that he started sleeping through the night and lying down for his naps without crying. Next we gated off our living room, got rid of all our houseplants, moved the television to higher ground, and put half of our furniture into storage.

Voila! A house fit for a toddler.

Mind you, we made all of these changes at night, after A.J. had gone to bed, so our own sleep deprivation didn’t subside right away. But day by day things got better for all three of us, and we soon settled into a groove that seemed to work pretty well.

Pretty well, that is, until a few days ago, when A.J. first uttered the word “no.” He said it tentatively in the beginning, as if he didn’t quite understand the power he could wield with one simple word, but before long he figured it out and the floodgates opened. No oatmeal, no puzzle, no sippy cup, no diaper, no shoes, no car seat, no bib, no stroller, and above all, no pants. So much for the kid who could only babble “ya-ya-ya” a few weeks ago.

Oh, well. At least he’s cute, and better yet, he's still sleeping through the night!

Saying Hi

2010-06-01T18:52:00.006-04:00

Remember all those times at the grocery store when some little kid who just learned to say hi suddenly greeted you in the produce department? Well, A.J. just learned to say hi, and he’s making sure everyone knows it. He says hi to the cashiers at Stop & Shop, to the landscapers, to the guys who stock the shelves at Wilson’s Farm, to the mailman, to our neighbors, and to anyone who happens to pass by when he’s riding in the stroller. Most people say hi right back, and a few even offer him a big smile and a wave, but some either don’t hear him or just feel uncomfortable talking to a stranger's baby.

I can empathize with the people who feel uncomfortable. I never used to be the kind of person who would carry on a conversation with a baby in a public place, mostly because it made me feel a little silly. I’d smile, or maybe wave, but not with much enthusiasm. I just didn’t consider myself a “baby person.”

But now that it’s MY kid who’s saying hi to strangers in public places, I find myself wanting everyone to respond with ardor. I feel so bad for A.J. when he puts himself out there and says hi, only to get a lukewarm response or none at all. Does it bother him? Nope. He just keeps on saying hi—to the people in line behind us at Starbucks, to the sullen teenager walking by on the sidewalk, even to the people sitting in the cars around us when we’re at a stoplight. (They can’t hear him, by the way.) A.J. is a plucky little guy, and I have to admire him for it. Maybe I should take a few lessons from him, too.

My First Mother's Day

2010-05-09T06:56:00.005-04:00

On this, my first Mother's Day, I woke almost an hour before the men in my life - enough time to make a pot of coffee for Harv and a sippy cup for A.J., plus a few minutes to reflect on how much our lives have changed over the past month. Harv and I picked up A.J. at the orphanage on April 5th, and since then our days have passed in a blur. We've redesigned our whole living space to accommodate the whims of a curious (but cute!) toddler. We've experimented with various ways for all three of us to get enough sleep. We've restructured our days, nights, meals, and ideas about what matters. We've laughed, cried, and marveled at the fact that with six college degrees between us, Harv and I still can't figure out when A.J. will poop. It has been wonderful at times and difficult at times, and we would do it all over again in a heartbeat.

A.J. continues to make incredible progress. His clothes are getting tighter all the time, his skin absolutely glows, and he is constantly making new connections to the world around him.

One of our friends has two daughters with adopted children. The other day she and I were sitting outside at a picnic table while A.J. played on the ground nearby.

"So, do you feel like his mother?" she asked.

"Absolutely," I said, wondering what she meant.

"That's good," she said. "One of my daughters once said she didn't feel like a mother sometimes. Mostly when she was around other mothers."

It saddened me to hear this. I don't think I could possibly feel more like A.J.'s mother. When I told Harv about the comment, we decided that A.J. is the one who makes us feel like his parents. In his own way, he has claimed us. Sometimes that has meant testing our boundaries. Sometimes it has meant giving us a warm, sticky hug or a big, wide grin. Sometimes it has meant finally "getting it" - like the way he can lie down for his naps now without crying, after we all worked so hard to get to that point. A.J. needs us, and we certainly need him.

So on this, my first Mother's Day, I have a lot to celebrate. I get to chase after my little boy all day, feed him Cheerios, change his diapers, and read aloud to him from Mr. Brown Can Moo! Can You? I get to cuddle him after his nap, wipe sweet potatoes off of his gooey face, trick him into letting me put his shoes on, and sing "I've Been Working on the Railroad" while bouncing him on my knee. Best of all, I get to feel absolutely, one hundred percent like his mother.

Milestones

2010-04-26T20:32:00.004-04:00

We took A.J. to the pediatrician today and learned that since April 5th--the day we picked him up at the orphanage--he has gained a full pound! Looks like all those Cheerios and goldfish crackers are doing him some good. In addition, he has recently learned how to point to his nose--and my nose, and Harv's nose, and the noses of every creature in every book we read. It's amazing how many noses are out there, just ripe for the pointing.

Harv and I both noticed something this afternoon: A.J. has finally started to respond when he hears his name. For weeks we have been saying, "A.J. this," and "A.J. that," but he has shown no recognition that he is A.J. Today, though, for the very first time, he turned and looked at me when I called him. Then, about ten minutes later, he did the same thing for Harv. We were thrilled!

The Week in Review

2010-04-18T12:26:00.005-04:00

Sunday, April 11: A.J. Vij awakens at 5:15 a.m. to begin his first full day as an American citizen. He celebrates by eating a hearty breakfast of oatmeal.

Monday, April 12: Before the Vij family can go out for a ride in the car, A.J. has to try out his new cow-print car seat. It’s a great fit, even without any pants on. (See photo.)

Tuesday, April 13: A.J.’s says his first recognizable word in English. As I’m wiping his face with a washcloth after lunch, I look at him and say, “Hey, buddy, you’ve got something on your nose. What is that, a booger?” He responds: “Booger!”

Wednesday, April 14: A.J. matter-of-factly breaks open the "childproof" lock I put on the bathroom cabinet.

Thursday, April 15: I continue to coach A.J. on his new name by pointing to him and saying, “A.J.,” then pointing to myself and saying, “Mama.” He pays attention, but I can’t tell if he's getting it.

Friday, April 16: Much to his parents' relief, A.J. awakens feeling refreshed and cheerful after his first really sound night of sleep in his new crib.

Saturday, April 17: I leave the house for an hour or so, and when I return home, A.J. crawls up to me at the door chirping, “Mama, mama!”

Sunday, April 18: Motherhood is awesome, but I need a nap!

Five Days at Home

2010-04-15T19:43:00.005-04:00

A.J. is one cool customer these days in his red shades and matching stroller. After five days at home, we are loving our new life as a family of three. A.J. eats like a champ and gobbles up anything I put in front of him. Now, if only he could sleep with as much enthusiasm. He doesn't like being put to bed and has been waking several times a night. Harv set up an air mattress next to the crib so he can rub A.J.'s back when he starts to whimper. So far it is working, but we hope the little man will soon be able to make it all the way through the night with no episodes.

As for naptime, we have found that the best way to handle it is to put A.J. in the car seat and drive around until he falls asleep. We spent over an hour in the Target parking lot the other morning. While A.J. slept, we took turns going inside to shop and use the restroom.

So many people have contacted us lately in reference to the recent suspension of Russian adoptions. We are saddened on many levels by the news, but above all, we feel lucky to have our son at home with us today. We hope for a speedy resolution to the problem so that other waiting children can join their forever families without delay.

Home At Last

2010-04-11T22:05:00.005-04:00

Our neighbors, Leonard and Jane, picked us up at Logan Airport yesterday after our long transatlantic journey and were kind enough to bring flowers, gifts for the baby, and a camera to snap this photo of three weary travelers happy to be home. The trip went as smoothly as it could possibly go, considering that fourteen-month-old bundles of energy generally don't like being confined to tight spaces for over eleven hours at a time. Seriously, though, our A.J. hung in there pretty well until the final twenty minutes of the second flight, when he fell apart and screamed his lungs out before finally conking out right before the plane landed. He woke up as we went through immigration and passport control, which is appropriate since his long-awaited arrival in the U.S. was a very big deal for a lot of people.

We're so glad to be home and so glad that A.J. seems happy so far with his new life. He chatters away all day long, laughs easily, eats well, and (knock on wood) fell asleep with no trouble tonight at about 8:00. Now, hopefully, Harv and I can get some sleep, too. Good night and sweet dreams......

Final Day in Moscow

2010-04-09T03:27:00.005-04:00

It’s a beautiful Friday in Moscow, so Harv, A.J., and I plan to head out for a nice stroll in the park after lunch. We finished all of our official adoption business yesterday, so now we can focus on the business of just being a family.

We had our appointment at the U.S. Embassy yesterday afternoon, where we picked up all of A.J.’s documents including his Russian passport, his visa to enter the U.S., his new birth certificate listing us as his parents, and a number of other things I haven’t had time to read yet. The great news is that A.J. becomes a U.S. citizen the moment he steps on American soil, but he retains his Russian citizenship as well. So any time he wants to return to Russia in the future, he’ll have an easy time of it.

At the close of our interview, the Embassy official handed us our packet and said, “Congratulations on reaching the end of what must have been a very long road.” We thanked her and walked away feeling a little dazed. I don’t think it had dawned on us that we would ever reach the end.

A number of other American couples adopting Russian infants had their appointments at the Embassy right before ours, including a couple from Ohio with a little boy about A.J.’s age and a couple from North Carolina with a gorgeous little girl from Siberia. It was so nice to meet people who have been through many of the same experiences we have. If I had to find one word to describe the mood of our group, it would be relieved.

We stood outside the Embassy swapping stories with the other Americans until Anna came running up to pull us away. Apparently Vitaly’s car was blocking someone in and we needed to leave quickly. We said a few hasty goodbyes to our new friends, piled into the car, and headed back to our hotel.

We leave Russia for the U.S. early tomorrow morning, and I’m sure our departure will be bittersweet. In many ways we have come to love this country that is so different from our own, and because Russia is the country of A.J.’s birth it will always hold a special place in our hearts. But at the same time, we can hardly wait to get our little boy home so we can start our new life together. This has been an amazing ride, but it’s safe to say that we’re ready for the next one. And one look at the toy-strewn floor of our hotel suite will tell you that it has already started!

Once we get settled in at home, I will post updates and pictures of the little man. So far he’s both a delight and a handful—which means, of course, that he’s right on track.

Ten Things You Should Know About A.J. Vij

2010-04-07T13:00:00.003-04:00

Harv and I landed safely in Moscow on Easter Sunday and the weather has been absolutely gorgeous, aside from a little rain on Monday. We picked A.J. up on Monday afternoon and have been busy getting his papers in order so he can leave the country with us on Saturday. I realize everyone would like to see pictures, but because the internet connection in our rental is a slow, dial-up-and-pay-by-the-minute setup, I'll wait until we get home to post them. But in the meantime, I hope you’ll enjoy my list of ten things we have learned about A.J. during our first three days as his full-time parents:

1. He can suck his thumb better than any other baby on the planet. He prefers the one on the left, but if for any reason it is unavailable, he’ll happily go for the one on the right.
2. He eats an astounding amount of food. I predict that once we get home, many of his days will play out as one long, continuous meal.
3. He loves, loves, LOVES to ride in the stroller.
4. He snorts when he laughs. It’s nerd-o-riffic!
5. He’d prefer to stay in the tub much longer than we’d prefer to let him.
6. To help us get him dressed, he politely holds out one arm at a time, then one leg at a time.
7. He understands that whenever we say, “Nyet, nyet, nyet,” he should immediately stop whatever he’s doing.
8. He likes hiding behind the kitchen door and knocking until someone answers.
9. He is too skinny for most of his clothes. (But that won’t last long—see #2.)
10. He has an amazing ability to wear his parents out, but he’s so darn cute that they don’t mind!

Please check back in a few days for more news and pictures from our trip. Do svidanya for now!

We're Off!

2010-04-03T08:02:00.002-04:00

Spring is in the air, and we will be, too, in a matter of hours. We’ve packed A.J.’s clothes, a nice assortment of toys, plenty of diapers, plus a few meager things for ourselves, and now it’s time to fly across the ocean to get our boy and bring him home.

We’re staying in a different hotel this time, and due to the language barrier I’ve had a difficult time finding out if we will have internet access in our room. So although I hope to post updates from Moscow, it will all depend on whether we have a connection. I’m keeping my fingers crossed, because it would be a shame to let such a special week to go by without being able to post the play-by-play report.

Either way, we hope to be back home in Waltham with A.J. next weekend. The house is all ready and we can’t wait to show him around his new digs. From his comfy crib to his colorful booster seat to his big bin of toys, he has a whole castle waiting for him. Just one more week and the little king will finally be home!

The Babyproofing Project

2010-03-29T11:08:00.005-04:00

With our trip to fetch A.J. less than a week away, it’s time to do some serious babyproofing. I plan to spend the afternoon down on my hands and knees, crawling around to get a “baby’s-eye view” of our condo. Judging from some of the articles I’ve read, every last piece of dust is a potential danger, but I’m just trying to be sensible about it. Outlet covers? Definitely. Cabinet locks? Of course. High-tech froggy bath temperature guard? Ummmm…no.

A lot of people have asked me how big A.J. is. As of two weeks ago, he weighed in at a lean 19.7 pounds, with an impressive height (as far as we could tell by stretching his wiggly little body out and measuring him with a ruler) of about 30-31 inches. On the American growth charts he comes in at roughly the 50th percentile for height and just under the 10th percentile for weight. Of course I think he’s the perfect size, though I do hope to fatten him up a bit once we get him home.

On a sober note, I watched the report on this morning’s news about the two rush hour bombings on the subway in Moscow. My heart is breaking for all of the victims and for the whole city. It shocks me to think that Harv and I rode on that very subway while we were there, and I can only pray that all of our friends are safe. Tomorrow has been declared a national day of mourning in Russia, and Harv and I will mourn along with our Russian friends as we continue to watch the news out of Moscow very closely.

Third and Final Trip

2010-03-22T14:03:00.007-04:00

Harv and I have booked the flights for our third and final trip to Moscow, and this time we’ll be fortunate enough to have an additional little passenger with us on the way back. Yes, it’s finally time for Mr. A.J. Vij to fly across the ocean with his new mom and dad. The little guy has no way of knowing it, but he certainly has a big adventure ahead of him.

Anna, Vivian, and Leila have all advised us to allow five full business days in Moscow to take care of things like A.J.’s passport, his registration with the Russian consulate, the required medical exams, and our interviews with the U.S. Embassy. With this in mind, we have made arrangements to leave on April 3rd and land in Moscow on Sunday, April 4th. This will give us plenty of time to settle in at our hotel before the action begins on Monday morning.

I remember how surprised we were during our last visit when Anna told us that on the final trip, we could pick up A.J. from the orphanage first thing on Monday. We were sitting in the back seat of Vitaly’s car as she turned sideways to speak to us from the front. When we asked if we could really go get him right away, she shrugged and said, “What for to wait? There will be no more reason to wait.”

I remember staring back at her, unable to believe we had finally reached the end. Even now the reality hasn’t quite sunk in. Over the past two years, waiting has become a way of life. To believe that it’s almost over would require a leap of faith that part of me still resists. Maybe it will get easier when I’m packing diapers, sippy cups, and baby clothes into our suitcase for the trip. But maybe I’ll still have to pinch myself, even when A.J. is sitting on my lap, popping Cheerios one at a time during the plane ride home.

Interestingly enough, Easter Sunday falls on April 4th in both the Western and Eastern Orthodox churches this year. That means Harv and I will leave the U.S. on Holy Saturday—a.k.a. the Great Vigil—to arrive in Russia on Orthodox Easter Sunday. The symbolism of our journey runs deep. We’ll be crossing continents and cultures to bring our family together, at a time when the Eastern and Western church calendars come together as well. Our long wait will end, and we’ll finally get to embark on the new life we have wanted for so long. We will have much to celebrate and every reason to hope. So even though it will feel strange to spend Easter Sunday in an airplane seat instead of a church pew this year, our week-long journey to Moscow will stand as one of the most fitting expressions of Easter renewal that I’ve ever known.

Barring unforeseen delays, we expect to bring A.J. home on Saturday, April 10th. I looked up this date on the internet, and the most appropriate connection I could find was to the first Arbor Day in America. Maybe someday in the future we can celebrate A.J.’s homecoming by planting a tree. But for now, let’s just get that little man home!

Better Late than Never

2010-03-16T11:40:00.002-04:00

Harv and I are back on the ground in Waltham, but it was no picnic getting here. Our flight on Sunday evening couldn’t land in Boston due to a massive storm, so the control tower diverted us to Bangor, Maine to refuel and await further instructions. Despite the delay, our German pilot still thought we would be able to land in Boston before night’s end.

Well, it wasn’t meant to be. After four hours sitting on the tarmac in Bangor, the pilot announced that the weather forecast for Boston looked very bad, and that we had “kein chance” of landing there before morning. Instead, we would stay in Bangor to deplane, go through passport control, collect our luggage, and go through customs. Then we would board a set of buses that would drive us to Boston.

After the pilot finished his announcement, a collective groan rose from all over the plane. It was already after midnight, and here we were on a fully booked trans-Atlantic airbus, about to unload at a small regional airport more than five hours’ drive from our destination. Clearly we had a long night ahead of us.

Harv and I did our fair share of groaning like everyone else, but the one thing we kept saying to each other was, “Thank goodness we don’t have to do this with A.J.” Just think: for a little guy setting foot on American soil for the first time, what a harsh welcome it would be if his flight couldn’t land in the right place and he had to spend over thirty confusing hours in transit. Hopefully our trip home with him will go much more smoothly.

We finally walked through the door of our condo at about 7:30 on Monday morning, twelve hours after we were supposed to have arrived. Later, as we unpacked our bags, I said to Harv, “Maybe we got all of our bad travel karma out of the way on this trip.”

Let’s keep our fingers crossed, shall we?

Our First Family Portrait

2010-03-13T14:27:00.006-05:00

Anna snapped this not-too-shabby photo of the Vij family today at the orphanage. We visited A.J. for about 45 minutes, just enough time to take a few pictures and play for a while before he began to tire out. And it’s no wonder he faded so quickly. This has been a crazy week for our little guy, between getting the flu, going into the hospital, entertaining his new parents, and just being a baby.

Fortunately, Mama and Papa Vij had plenty of things to do this afternoon with Anna and Vitaly, so even though we hated to say goodbye to A.J., the day turned out just fine. After running a few errands, the four of us enjoyed a late lunch at Yolky-Palky, a restaurant with an all-you-can-eat buffet of Russian specialties, including pickled herring, marinated mushrooms, kasha, and three varieties of cabbage salad. We stuffed ourselves while Anna told us stories of growing up, marrying, and raising a family in Soviet Russia. I can’t imagine having to draw a number to buy a rug for your apartment, or having to be on “the list” to get food for a holiday dinner, but that’s exactly what they did. Fascinating.

After lunch we headed to Arbat Street to visit Anna’s husband, Alexander, in his basement studio. Anna had mentioned during our last visit that her husband is a painter, and when I looked him up on the internet a few weeks ago, I liked what I saw. We asked Anna if we could see some of his paintings in person, in case we might want to buy one for our home.

Alexander (or Sasha, as Anna called him) greeted us at the door looking exactly as Anna had described him: white hair, white beard, more white hair, and more white beard. We descended into his studio by way of a dark stone staircase, and once inside we encountered a 500-square-foot space full of paintings, dust, bagels, and a furry cat. Alexander spoke very little English, but he graciously pulled out painting after painting for us to see. They were beautiful, all of them.

We ended up buying a winter scene of Cherkov Spasa, a 17th-century church in the Russian town of Ubori. This was Harv’s and my first art purchase together, so it felt very significant, especially considering how the painting ties in with such an important phase in our life as a family. We hope A.J. will be able to enjoy it as a symbol of his heritage and display it in his own home long after we’re gone.

After Arbat Street, Anna offered to show us the Cathedral of Christ our Savior near the Kremlin. Let me just tell you that I have never been inside such a huge church in all my life, and I’ve been inside a lot of churches. The current structure is a modern reproduction of the original, which was destroyed after the 1917 Bolshevik revolution. It was built, and eventually rebuilt, in honor of the Russian victory against Napoleon’s army in 1812. Picture an enormous white structure with shining domes, marble floors, vaulted ceilings, elaborate gold fixtures, icons on every wall, glowing candles, praying babushkas, and hundreds of tourists speaking in hushed tones, and you’ve got the right idea.

Vitaly dropped us off at the hotel just after 5:00 and we promptly headed back out for an early evening walk through the neighborhood. We’ll skip dinner tonight because we had such a grand feast at lunch time, and soon we’ll begin packing for our flight home tomorrow.

After our last trip to Moscow, I couldn’t wait to come back, and this time the feeling is even more intense. We have fallen in love with this city, and with our little boy, too, of course. Hopefully we can return on the 28th - or shortly thereafter - to pick up our little A.J. and bring him home.

Court Approved!

2010-03-12T14:19:00.009-05:00

Meet A.J. Vij, as approved on March 11, 2010 by the Russian court. (He’ll probably want to kill me some day for posting a photo of him in that pink outfit, but I have no control over how they dress him at the orphanage.)

Yes, A.J. is now back at Orphanage No. 12 after five days in the children’s hospital recovering from the flu. We actually went to the hospital to see him this morning, only to find out that the ambulance had left an hour before to return him to the orphanage. Undaunted, we got back into the car and tracked him down. He should know he can’t get away that easily!

So here’s a rundown of our big day in court yesterday. Vitaly dropped us off at the court building just before 11:00. With Anna we went through security, checked our coats, showed our passports and visas, and took a lift up to the sixth floor, where we met Leila (our agency’s coordinator in Moscow), Galina (the social worker who observed us with A.J. on Wednesday), and the doctor from the orphanage.

Leila offered some last-minute encouragement in the waiting area outside the courtroom. “Don’t worry,” she said with a wave of her hand. “You will do fine.” She has probably translated for hundreds of these trials, so I decided to believe her.

We waited for about half an hour before they called us in, and then we filed into the courtroom and took our seats. When the judge entered, we all stood, just like in an American court. Leila stood next to Harv and me and translated every word the judge said about our right to know what was going on and to ask questions if we had them. When Leila asked us if we understood, we nodded and said yes. She translated for the judge: “Da.”

We had been told in advance that we would take turns standing at the podium to answer questions, and we had decided that I would go first. Leila stood next to me as the judge asked about our home, our family, and our reasons for adopting. None of the questions really took me by surprise until she challenged me (in a friendly, “Russian judge” sort of way) on the comments I had made about Russian culture.

“A one-year-old baby doesn’t really have a culture,” Leila translated. “So what do you mean when you say you wanted to experience a new culture through adoption?”

I tried to flub my way through it, and I think I did all right. I talked about our study of the Russian language and Russian history, and our plans to make sure A.J. feels proud of his heritage. I can’t remember everything I said, but the judge seemed satisfied and moved on.

After a few questions about whether I had read and understood A.J.’s medical records, my turn at the podium was over. Harv went next, and he fielded a series of questions about A.J. and our early impressions of him.

“He was a little shy with us at first,” Harv said, “but he got more comfortable after the first day. He relaxed and had fun. He likes to play, and he likes being held.”

As expected, Harv spent a little less time at the podium. In fact, some of his questions were repeats of the ones I had been asked, but I suppose they needed to make sure that our answers matched. When Harv was finished, Galina stood up to share her impressions of us (very positive, from what everyone told me afterward), and the orphanage doctor testified about A.J.’s health and development over the past year. She also confirmed that he is legally available for adoption.

Finally the questioning ended and the judge went into recess. Up to this point I hadn’t felt nervous, but when I realized that the judge was behind the courtroom door making a decision about whether or not we could adopt A.J., my heart started to beat faster. Could she possibly say no?

She returned about five minutes later and, after an excruciatingly long preamble full of Russian legalese, announced that our adoption of A.J. had been approved and the official decree would be posted on March 23rd.

“Congratulations!” said Leila, giving us both a hug.

I turned to Harv. “He’s ours,” I said, though the reality had yet to sink in.

“A.J. Vij,” he nodded, like the proud dad that he now is.

So what happens next? More paperwork, of course. Leila says we can return the week of March 28th to complete all the formalities and take him home, but we’re not sure if our approvals will be up to date in the U.S. by then. We should know sometime next week. In the meantime, I can safely announce that we’re almost done and, as I said to Harv in the courtroom, A.J. is ours.

Vitaly drove us back to our hotel after the court appearance and we celebrated our victory by walking over to Red Square and having a snack at one of the eateries inside GUM, the nation’s largest (and surely most elegant) shopping mall. Later we went out for dinner with our friend Zakhar and his girlfriend, Dina. They took us to a local restaurant and then out for a night tour of Moscow. Our favorite part was the dramatic view of the city lights from an overlook near Moscow State University. If it hadn’t been so freakishly cold out there, we might have stayed longer.

As it was, we didn’t get back to our hotel until almost midnight. “We’d better enjoy the night life while we can,” Harv said, and he has a point. All too soon we’ll have a Little Vij to look after!

Reunited

2010-03-11T11:07:00.007-05:00

So much news in so little time! First of all, we were able to see A.J. yesterday as anticipated, but because he has a mild case of the flu, we had to visit him at the children’s hospital instead of the orphanage. No need to worry, though – he’s doing just fine and, as you can tell from the picture, he’s getting plenty of fluids.

He was sound asleep when we arrived, but the doctor told us to go ahead and wake him. I rubbed his back for a few seconds and his eyes fluttered open and shut, then open and shut again. Finally he looked straight up at me as if to say, “Hey, what's the problem here?”

I reached down to pick him up, then rocked him for a few minutes while he shook off those sleepy cobwebs. He perked up little by little, especially when he saw Harv taking some toys out of the bag. He leaned forward to reach for his old favorite, the colorful interlocking rings, then proceeded to twirl them around just like he did back in December. But we soon noticed that he has developed a new trick over the past three months: dropping things on the floor to see who will pick them up. (I guess from now on it will be us!) We also noticed that he has sprouted two new teeth, for a grand total of eight compared to the six he had the last time we saw him.

We spent about an hour getting reacquainted before it was time to leave, and I can’t even describe the relief we felt on seeing him again. After three months of waiting and worrying, we found him safe, sound, and cheerful as ever. What an extraordinary little man! As Harv likes to say, “That A.J., he’s a cool guy.”

We're on our way out to dinner with our friend Zakhar in a few minutes, but I hope to post an update tomorrow covering our court appearance this morning and what needs to happen before we can bring A.J. home. It has been a very eventful couple of days.

It's a Long Way to Moscow

2010-03-10T02:27:00.003-05:00

After two flights and over ten hours in the air, we’re back in our favorite Russian city again. We had some unexpected delays coming out of Frankfurt and arrived too late to visit A.J. on Tuesday, but it’s Wednesday morning now and we will be able to see him this afternoon.

It was great to see our friends Anna and Vitaly again. Vitaly is up to his old tricks, maneuvering his BMW through tights spots and keeping our hearts in our throats at all times. He seems to know what he’s doing, and he gets us where we need to be. We certainly couldn’t do any of this without him!

We celebrated my birthday last night with a dinner at our favorite neighborhood restaurant, the Café Yesenin. They serve delicious, authentic Russian food in a cozy, rustic atmosphere, but I have yet to figure out their music selections, which favor the sounds of Frank Sinatra and Abba. We ordered beet salads, dark rye bread, borscht with sour cream, and two beers. Our waiter, who spoke a smattering of English, kindly snapped a picture of us making a birthday toast.

We’re heading out soon and hope to have some updates on A.J. for tomorrow.

Leavin' on a Jet Plane

2010-03-08T08:02:00.003-05:00

As the song says, our bags are packed and we’re ready to go. We woke to a beautiful morning in Boston, and the forecast calls for sunny skies with a high near 54 degrees Fahrenheit this afternoon. Compare that to Moscow, where the temperature when we land tomorrow should sit right around 25 degrees Fahrenheit with light snow. No matter, though. That’s what the long underwear and boots are for.

Did I mention that tomorrow is my birthday? Well, it is, and this will be a memorable one for sure, especially if we get to spend a few minutes with A.J. in the afternoon. I’m not counting on it since we don’t land until after one o’clock on Tuesday, but wouldn’t it be nice if it works out? Either way, we know for sure that we’ll get to see him on Wednesday.

Dosvidanya for now! Next stop: Moscow.

Packing List for Moscow

2010-03-06T17:44:00.009-05:00

Our much-anticipated second journey to Moscow begins when our plane takes off on Monday afternoon, and tonight I’m celebrating the eve of the eve of our return trip to Russia by compiling a preliminary packing list. So far it includes:

-Warm clothing (long underwear, winter coats, hats, boots, gloves, etc.)
-Notarized documents and photos for the court
-Travel food (graham crackers, fruit leather, almonds, granola bars)
-Small gifts for A.J.’s caretakers
-Instant coffee to make in the hotel room (rather than pay $8.00 per cup in the lobby like last time)
-Camera, charger, European outlet converter
-A.J.’s bag of toys (including the ever-popular phone with noisy buttons)
-Cold medicine, just in case
-Extra cash, just in case
-Laptop (for blogging and checking email)
-Rick Steves’ Guide to Moscow
-Harv’s nifty Russian cell phone (purchased on last trip, works only in Russia)
-Hearty appetite for borscht and vodka
-Patience
-Sense of humor
-Expectation that even if things don't go exactly as planned, we’ll be fine
-Good wishes from our friends and family in the U.S. (and Canada, too!)
-A million hugs and kisses for our baby boy

I’m sure the list will grow throughout the day tomorrow (like, what about toothpaste?) but this is a start, anyway. We can hardly wait to get this show on the road. Moscow, here we come!

Rounding Third

2010-02-27T15:10:00.008-05:00

Great news: we’ve been granted a court date in Moscow on March 11th. And because that’s only twelve days away, we’re scrambling around to get everything ready to go, including ourselves. But you’ll hear no grumbling--I’d gladly leave right now if they told us to.

It seems like we’ve been waiting forever, but we’re really only a couple of weeks behind target at this point, and every day we get closer and closer to bringing A.J. home. Harv likes to compare the whole thing to baseball. We just rounded third, he says, and the plate is only ninety feet away. So I guess all we need now is for the coach to wave us in!

But since they don’t play baseball in Russia, can anyone help me come up with a good soccer analogy??

Bumps in the Road

2010-02-18T19:32:00.006-05:00

Before we signed on with our agency, Harv and I set up an information session to learn more about the adoption process. We made our first visit to the agency on a rainy summer afternoon in 2008, and I remember sitting at a large conference table across from Bonnie, their outreach coordinator, as she went over the basics of international adoption. One particular thing she said to us that day stands out in my memory.

“There may be some bumps in the road,” she said, “but when it’s all over, you will have a child.”

Nearly two years have passed since then, and while I still have to trust that she was right about the second part, the first part I can confirm without hesitation. There have definitely been some bumps in the road.

The latest one has to do with our FBI clearance letter, which we’re supposed to have in hand before we can get a court date in Moscow. Our agency told us the clearance letter would arrive in the mail about three weeks after the FBI got our request. So I sent off our request on January 5th thinking we would receive a response by the beginning of February. I marked the envelope exactly as instructed: “ADOPTION--PLEASE EXPEDITE,” and three weeks later, I started watching our mailbox. But day after day I found nothing in it but bills, J. Crew catalogs, and Comcast flyers.

I went back to my files and discovered a phone number for the FBI record division. I called the number yesterday and ended up on the line with a man named Ed. I told Ed that I wanted to check on the status of my record request.

“How long ago did you send it in?” Ed asked.

“I Fed-Exed it on January 5th,” I told him, “and someone signed for it on the 7th.” Since this had happened over six weeks ago, I assumed our response letter was sitting ready somewhere, and I trusted Ed to figure out where it was.

“Well,” Ed said, “I’ll check on it for you, but I can almost guarantee there won’t be anything in the system yet. There’s a mandatory wait period of ten weeks.”

Did he say ten weeks? There had to be some mistake.

Then Ed said, “Nope, there’s nothing here. I’d recommend you wait four or five weeks and then call us again.”

I felt a catch in my throat. This was not what I had expected at all. “Don’t you have a way to expedite the process?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. “It’s for an adoption.”

“No,” he said firmly. “We can’t do that.”

I had no idea what to say. How could we possibly wait five more weeks? We had hoped to have our court date in February so we could bring A.J. home by the end of March. All I could think of was our little boy sitting halfway across the world waiting for us.

After a pause, Ed spoke again. “Do you have a baby waiting right now?”

“Yes,” I answered.

I heard a shuffle of papers, then, “Hold on a second.” When Ed returned to the phone, he told me he was going to transfer me to a woman named Lori. “If she doesn’t pick up, leave a message. Tell her you have a baby waiting. Leave your phone number so she can call you back.”

“Okay,” I said. “Thank you.”

After leaving a message for Lori, I got in the car and headed for our agency to drop off some other paperwork. When I saw Vivian and told her what had happened, she looked baffled. “This used to take three weeks,” she said, shaking her head.

We looked into it and determined that there has been a rather sudden change in policy. The FBI records division no longer expedites background checks for adoptions, and due to a backlog, the wait period is now ten weeks or longer. Had we known this, we would have sent our request sooner. But instead, we ran into one of those proverbial bumps in the road.

Fortunately, though, that isn’t the end of the story. A very nice woman from the FBI called me today (her name was Julie, not Lori, but I won’t fuss over the details) and I’m happy to report that we may get some help from the FBI after all. Officially they make no promises, but because we currently have a baby waiting, they can try to push our request through as quickly as possible. Whether this means we will have to wait one week or five, I can’t say, but we'll take what we can get. And in the meantime, Vivian is trying to work some magic with her friends in Russia so that our court date will come up sooner rather than later. At the end of the day, we remain hopeful.

I find myself thinking back to Bonnie’s comment about bumps in the road. She was right—we've had to overcome plenty of delays and frustrations on the way to becoming A.J.’s parents. But bumps are only bumps, and at this point in the game I’d prefer to focus on our little boy and remember the other, more important thing she said to us that day: “When it’s all over, you will have a child.”

Happy Birthday, A.J.!

2010-02-08T08:59:00.005-05:00

Our little guy turns one year old today, and we so wish that he were here at home with us to celebrate. But unfortunately, since we’re still awaiting our court date, Harv and I have to celebrate A.J.’s birthday on our own this year. I baked a dozen chocolate cupcakes with vanilla frosting in honor of the birthday boy, and tonight after dinner we’ll light a candle and make a wish on his behalf. (Of course I can’t reveal what we’re going to wish for because we want it to come true, but you can probably guess that it will have something to do with bringing our little boy home very soon.)

Happy first birthday, A.J.! We miss you very much!

Here We Go Again

2010-01-26T15:40:00.001-05:00

No court date yet, but we did hear from Vivian at our agency, and apparently Leila, our coordinator on the ground in Moscow, expects to have some word very soon. In the meantime, she has suggested that we update all of the papers in our dossier. Many of our documents will expire as of March 2nd, and there is a possibility that our court date will take place after that—although we hope it will be much sooner! So Harv and I are off to the police station to have our background checks re-done, and to the UPS Store to get a pile of forms notarized, and to the bank, and the doctor’s office, etc, etc.

It’s a bit of a hassle to have to do all of these things over again, but in a way I like having something to do besides just sit and wait.

Welcome, New Readers

2010-01-06T12:24:00.008-05:00

The latest issue of Adoptive Families magazine is out, and my essay, "A Sense of Belonging," appears on pp. 26-27 along with a short bio and a reference to my blog. As a result, I'm getting a lot more traffic here at "The Little Vij Chronicles," much of it from fellow adoptive parents who enjoyed the article and have checked in to see how our adoption is going. This helps to prove the point I made in my essay: adoptive parents, no matter where they come from and how different they might be, share a special bond. Welcome to all! I hope you enjoy the blog and will continue to check in.

Harv and I were talking last night about what a tremendous amount of support we have gotten from the very moment we decided to adopt a child. Everywhere we have gone, people have been thrilled to hear our news--even before we had any real news to share! From the police officers who took our fingerprints to the bank tellers who gave us our certified checks, from the assistants at our doctor's office to the people who sold us our crib, all we've had to do is say, "We're adopting a baby," and everyone has bent over backwards to help us in any way they can. And now that we have pictures of A.J. to show, you should see people swoon. It really warms our hearts.

We're still awaiting our court date in Moscow and will post an update as soon as we have any word. In the meantime we're having a lot of fun buying baby gear. Harv ordered a stroller (the UppaBaby G-Lite) from Amazon the other day, and I hit the sale on Carter's baby clothes at Kohl's. 60% off--what a deal! A.J. is going to look so cute in his new footie sleepers! I just hope I got the right size. Don't grow too much, little guy, or you won't fit into your jammies!

Happy New Year!

2010-01-01T13:45:00.003-05:00

We had a wonderful Christmas with my family in Iowa, and yes, A.J.'s collection of toys, blankets, clothing, and "all things baby" grew quite a bit. His many aunts, uncles, and cousins are very excited that he will be joining our family and they can't wait to meet him. Same for his grandparents!

Harv and I think about A.J. all the time, and we're constantly asking each other, "What do you think he's doing right now?"(Most frequent answer: "Sleeping.") It's a huge understatement to say that we miss him and want him here at home with us, but that's the truth, plain and simple.

It's exciting to know that 2010 will go down in history as the year we finally got to bring A.J. home. Best wishes to everyone for a safe and happy New Year!

Missing Our Baby Boy

2009-12-16T14:23:00.011-05:00

Harv and I are settled in comfortably at home again, but as we rush around preparing to spend the Christmas holiday with my family in Iowa, our hearts are still in Moscow. We miss our little A.J. terribly! In the plane on the way back to Boston, I couldn’t help wondering if our little guy expected us to show up again on Sunday to play with him after lunch. For five afternoons in a row, we came and showered him with attention. When we didn’t show up on the sixth day, did he wonder where we were?

But here’s something a little more cheery to think about -- judging from the enthusiastic reaction of our friends and families, A.J. is going to cash in big this Christmas, even though he isn’t here to open his own presents. His new extended family is so excited about him that his collection of toys could grow exponentially within a very short amount of time! And as reluctant as I am to fill up our condo with piles of brightly-colored baby paraphernalia, I have to give in. Why fight it? There’s nothing quite as much fun as having a new baby in the family at Christmas time!

Our next set of tasks in the adoption process will include updating our medical forms (we both had appointments with the doctor yesterday), applying for new Russian visas (the papers are filled out already), and having our fingerprints redone at the local police station (we'll take care of this after the first of the year). Other than that, we can’t do much but sit tight and wait for our court date. Waiting, of course, is an all-too-familiar activity for us, but since we met A.J., the waiting process has changed a lot. Instead of wondering about a baby we don’t even know yet, we now have a specific little person to think about. A.J. is not just an idea any longer; he is a real little boy. He is ours now--in our hearts, if not on paper--and that makes the waiting easier in some ways and more difficult in others. At least we have all of our pictures and videos to tide us over until we can see him again. It isn’t the same as having him here with us, but it’s better than nothing at all.

Final Day in Moscow

2009-12-12T11:18:00.007-05:00

Where to begin? The last twenty-four hours have been filled with activity, including a magnificent performance of the Nutcracker at the Bolshoi Ballet, a walking tour of Red Square, souvenir shopping at the Arbat, and our final visit with A.J. until we return for our court date, which we hope will take place in February.

A.J. was in rare form today, so alert and cheerful that he took us by surprise. Anna and his caretakers agree that daily contact with us has been very good for him. He is getting to know us and trust us, and he is thriving on the attention we give him. Unfortunately, now we have to do the most counterintuitive thing in the world: leave him here and fly back home. By the time we see him again, he will have changed a lot. And who knows if he will remember us when we come back? It breaks our hearts to leave him, but we can’t take him home until the courts decide that it’s okay.

A.J.’s activities today included walking around the room with the help of his push-walker, playing with his colorful interlocking rings, riding on Daddy’s shoulders (see photo), digging all kinds of fun things out of the bag of toys we brought, chewing on his favorite book (“Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?”), giggling as he got tickled over and over again, and eventually waving bye-bye to his parents who have to return to America in the morning. What a full day!

Harv and I are packing our things tonight and Vitaly will pick us up to go to the airport at 4 a.m. This has been a wonderful and life-changing week in Moscow. We can’t wait to come back again!

Little Vij Gets a New Name

2009-12-11T02:33:00.010-05:00

We were so excited to have an hour to spend with Little Vij yesterday afternoon, but he wasn’t quite as excited to see us. We had one sleepy boy on our hands. We played with his new toys for a while and he went straight for his favorite, the cell phone with all the noisy buttons. But before long he started to yawn and blink his eyes, and when Harv picked him up to carry him across the room, his little head fell forward with a thwump and he was sound asleep. Just like that – awake one second, asleep the next.

The Russian caretakers were not pleased with us at all; they want their little charges to sleep ONLY at nap time. So to appease them, we tried to wake Little Vij up. But no, he was deep in dreamland and play time was over. We took turns holding him for a while, until one of the caretakers finally took him away and Harv and I were left to amuse ourselves with the bag of toys. Not much fun, by the way.

Anna told us later that one of the caretakers approached her as we were leaving the orphanage and asked her to tell us that we should play with the baby (gosh – we never thought of that!), and not encourage him to sleep. But doesn’t she realize that sometimes you just can’t wake a sleeping baby?

Sigh. Here’s hoping we have a livelier baby on our hands when we visit him today.

On the bright side, we were able to fill out all of our forms for the Russian court during the afternoon. Anna will now submit our official request to adopt, and the court will invite us back for a hearing in a few weeks. On the forms we had to indicate the new legal name we intend to give our child. After much discussion, we’ve decided to name him Andrei James Vij, and we plan to call him “A.J.”

Here’s where his name came from: Andrei was the name given to him at the hospital before he came to the orphanage. We decided to keep it, partly because it will allow him to preserve a small part of who he was before we met him, and partly because it reminded us of my name, Andrea. We also thought it would be nice to keep the Russian spelling. A.J.’s new middle name, James, is my dad’s first name, and it was also my grandpa’s first name.

As for the nickname we plan to use, A.J., I never thought I would choose to name a child by his initials, but the more Harv and I thought about it (and the more beers we drank in the hotel bar – is that a bad sign?), the more it seemed to fit him. He is a bright, funny, easygoing boy, and A.J. just feels like the right name for him. So from here on out, Little Vij will be known as A.J.

And as if naming a baby weren’t enough to keep us occupied, here’s a quick update on our social calendar. Last night Harv and I went out for dinner with our new friend Zakhar, an authentic Muscovite and the nephew of one of Harv’s former colleagues from UMass. Zakhar took us to Korchma, a Russian/Ukrainian restaurant with several locations throughout Moscow. We dined on some excellent borsch, along with several other Ukrainian dishes. It was a great meal, and Zakhar was wonderful company – not to mention that he knew how to read the Russian menu.

Today we will visit A.J. in the afternoon, and tonight we are heading out to the Bolshoi Theatre for Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker. We had better bundle up, though, because it is getting colder every day!

Too Good to be True

2009-12-10T02:25:00.006-05:00

It’s Thursday morning in Moscow, and I can’t wait any longer to post a photo of our beautiful boy! The doctor examined him yesterday and had lots of good things to say. Apparently our little guy has no major health concerns, and he’s cute as a bug, too. (But we didn’t need the doctor to tell us that!) Anna is now working hard to get the paperwork ready so we can make our official request to adopt him. We should be able to sign off on everything today or tomorrow.

Choosing a name for him has not been as easy as we would have expected. We had some ideas before we got here, but now that we’ve met him, they don’t seem to fit. Over dinner last night we kicked some new ideas around, and I think we’ve finally settled on a good name for him – but will we change our minds again before it’s time to fill out the forms? Tune in tomorrow to find out…

Moscow is a fascinating city and despite the cold and snow, we are enjoying ourselves as we get to know the culture here. The traffic in Moscow makes Boston look like a small town. Our driver, Vitaly, has made some incredible moves that left us breathless. We’ve figured out that it’s better not to watch – just let Vitaly do his job. We pass the Kremlin every day on our way to and from our hotel, but so far we haven’t seen anyone famous (or infamous). Anna tries to point out interesting features as we make our way through the city, and we have gotten some good history lessons from her. We hope to have a little time for sightseeing before our departure on Sunday morning, but of course our priority is spending as much time as we can with that cute little guy in the picture.

Today we’ll get to spend about an hour with him after he has his lunch. The caretakers at the orphanage work very hard and they like to keep the kids on a tight schedule. So for one hour, we will try to squeeze in as much fun as we can before we have to say goodbye. Then we’ll pack up the toys, baby will lie down for his nap, and we’ll head back out into the cold until we can see him again tomorrow.

Greetings from Moscow

2009-12-08T11:08:00.006-05:00

It's our second day in Russia's largest city, and we have already managed to eat authentic Russian food twice. Borsch, pelmeni with sour cream, dark rye bread, beets with sauerkraut, potato dumplings...yum! And to add to the ambience, it has been cold and snowy since we got here. This is the Moscow I expected to see!

Now that we're settled in and have our bearings, we are doing well, but the trip here was long and exhausting. Lufthansa misplaced one of our bags, and we spent a ridiculous amount of time dealing with that issue, and by the time we got into Moscow traffic was snarled so badly that it took our driver four hours to get from the airport to our hotel. I have never been so glad to get out of a car and into a hot shower in all my life! Luckily, though, we have a wonderful interpreter named Anna who has already helped us in more ways than I can count. Since meeting us at the airport, she has kept a cheerful attitude at all times, and we are so grateful for her presence.

We had our appointment at the Department of Education this morning, and after an hour of waiting they finally found a little boy for us in their database. He is only ten months old, which is odd because most children adopted from Russian orphanages are at least one year old. We met him this afternoon and although he was wary of us at first, he soon relaxed and we played for a while with some toys we brought. He especially liked the toy cell phone that makes a cool noise every time you press a button. He is a little sweetheart and we are very hopeful that everything will work out so he can become part of our family. We will have a doctor examine him tomorrow, and based on the doctor's advice we hope to make a decision very soon. After things feel a little more final, I will post some pictures of the little guy. Get ready!

Leaving Tomorrow

2009-12-05T14:17:00.003-05:00

Our visas arrived in plenty of time and we had a great info session with Vivian at our agency on Thursday afternoon. Everything is falling into place for our big trip, and we're off to Moscow tomorrow afternoon. Unfortunately we still don't know a single thing about Little Vij, and we won't until Monday or Tuesday. In international adoption lingo, this is what's known as a "blind referral," but I wasn't expecting it to be quite so blind! We were hoping someone could sneak us a little hint somewhere along the line so we would at least know if we're getting a boy or a girl. Oh, well - what's a couple more days when you've already been waiting for so long?

We're scrambling around today, packing, making lists, doing laundry, and picking up a few supplies from Target - like warm hats and long underwear, because weather.com says it's going to be c-c-c-cold in Moscow next week. We also got a couple of new toys for Little Vij, even though we already had a pretty good supply. What can I say? We took one look at those colorful interlocking rings and said, "Our kid has to have those!"

Dosvidanya! The next post will come from Moscow.

Down to the Wire

2009-12-01T14:45:00.002-05:00

It's the first of December, and our long-awaited trip to meet Little Vij for the first time is less than one week away. Unfortunately our visas haven't arrived yet, so we're hoping against hope that they come by Friday so we can pick them up from our agency before the weekend. And all along we have been hoping for some information about Little Vij, but we still know nothing.

On the bright side, we splurged and bought tickets to the ballet next weekend. We figured that if you're going to be in Moscow anyway, and it happens to be December, you might as well see the Nutcracker at the Bolshoi. It was surprisingly easy to get tickets, although there were only seven seats left after we reserved ours. What a treat that will be!

Now let's keep our fingers crossed that all goes smoothly between now and then. A lot is going to happen in our lives before the curtain rises at the ballet, and we are excited and hopeful about the next ten days.

A Steep Learning Curve

2009-11-09T11:39:00.006-05:00

So, now that we're (hopefully) less than a month away from meeting Little Vij, do you think I can learn everything I need to know from this book?

I've decided to give it a try, and so far I feel pretty comfortable about buying new toddler shoes and encouraging verbal development. Tantrums, however, are another story. Guess I'll have to go over that chapter a few more times.

Harv and I have made initial arrangements for our trip to Moscow and are keeping our fingers crossed in the hope that all will pan out as expected. In the meantime, we have a lot of studying to do!

Let's see, now...potty training begins on page 539...

Three Trips

2009-10-25T15:31:00.002-04:00

Why make just one trip to Moscow when you can make three?

Well, that’s one way to look at it, anyway. As I mentioned in my last post, our first trip is scheduled for the week of December 6th. We will have six days to visit the Department of Education, meet the Little Vij for the first time, bring in a doctor for a medical consultation, and if all goes well, begin the legal adoption process.

Then we’ll fly home and wait.

In most cases, the second trip takes place six to eight weeks after the first, which for us would mean mid to late January. This will be a short visit. We will appear in a Russian court, where we hope to convince a Russian judge that we will be excellent parents. We will promise to preserve our child’s Russian heritage and to feel ever grateful to the Russian people for the great gift they have given us. Or something like that. Basically we will say whatever our interpreter tells us to say. And if all goes well, we will have a chance to visit the Little Vij for a couple of hours before we leave town.

Then we’ll fly home and wait.

The third trip could take place anywhere from three to six weeks after the second. On this trip we will obtain our adoption decree along with Little Vij’s birth certificate, visa, and passport. By this time, Little Vij will be officially ours and we can all stay together as a family at the hotel. We will have some time to go sightseeing, shop for souvenirs, and pose for pictures in Red Square. And if all goes well, we will be cleared to return home within a few days.

Then we’ll all fly home together. No more waiting. Welcome home, Little Vij!

Finally, Some Action

2009-10-14T21:58:00.002-04:00

We had a very informative meeting with Vivian yesterday, and it feels like things are finally starting to fall into place. Here’s the tentative plan. We will be making three trips to Russia, the first of which will take place in early December. We will leave Boston on December 6th, arrive in Moscow on the 7th, and have our appointment at the Department of Education on the 8th. At this appointment we will receive permission to visit a specific orphanage and meet a specific child. (We may or may not have advance information about the child’s age, gender, and any potential health concerns.) Then, if all goes well, we will meet the Little Vij for the first time on the afternoon of December 8th.

After waiting for so long and knowing so little about what to expect, it was reassuring to find out how many of the details will be taken care of for us by our agency and their reps in Moscow. We will have an interpreter who works regularly with adoptive parents from the United States and who will coach us through any unfamiliar situations. We will have a driver to pick us up at our hotel and take us to all of our appointments. (By the way, we can ask our driver and interpreter to take us sightseeing, too.) Best of all, before we even make our trip, our agency’s contacts in Moscow will be working behind the scenes to get information to us and help things run smoothly. This is the truth: it pays to work with a reputable agency. No agency is perfect, but I cannot imagine trying to do an international adoption without the help of experienced and trustworthy people who know what they’re doing.

Check back soon for more information about the three trips and what each will entail.

The Call...Sort Of

2009-09-30T11:23:00.014-04:00

Sure, it was wishful thinking, but somewhere deep down I dreamed of a dramatic, life-altering phone conversation where the person on the other end would say something like:

"Congratulations! We have a baby for you! It’s a boy (or a girl), 18 months old, and his name is Sergei (or Natasha). He (she) is perfectly healthy, but a little small for his (or her) age, which is to be expected, of course. You and Harv should book your plane tickets right away, because it’s time to go to Moscow and get your little boy (or girl)!"

But here’s what really happened.

On Tuesday evening at about 7:00 I received a phone call from Vivian, the international program director for our agency. She told me the agency's contacts in Russia have invited Harv and me to travel to Moscow in early December. Whether this means they have a specific child in mind for us we don’t know, but either way, it is very good news—even though we will be visiting one of the coldest cities on earth in the dead of winter, as Harv was quick to point out.

We’ve set up a meeting with Vivian two weeks from now to find out what to expect and how to prepare before we go. Until then, I’m just going to be happy. We’re on our way!

A Letter from Mom

2009-09-21T10:47:00.012-04:00

I don't remember where I first heard this, but someone once told me it can be very therapeutic to write a letter to your child while waiting for your adoption to come through. I decided to try it, and since I have no idea where to mail my letter, I'm posting it here. (By the way, I agree. It felt great to put these thoughts into words.)

Dear Little Vij,

You don’t know me yet, but I’m your mom. I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. Your daddy and I are very eager to meet you, but we have to wait for everything to be just right before we can come get you and bring you home. Believe me, we’ll be there as soon as we can.

We’ve been getting the house ready so that when you arrive you’ll have a nice crib to sleep in, books to read, toys to play with, and blankets to keep you warm. I don’t know what your favorite foods are yet, but as soon as I find out, I’ll fill the whole kitchen with them. You’ll be safe here, and happy, too. We’ll make sure of that.

Sometimes I wonder what you look like and whether you’re a boy or a girl. I wonder what name you’ve been given and who gave it to you—your birth mother, or someone at the hospital where you were born, or maybe a caretaker at the orphanage where you live. We may never know. Your daddy and I have decided to wait until we meet you to decide on a permanent name. It might feel right to keep the one you have, but we may choose a different one. As parents often say, we’ll have to wait and see. You’ll probably hear those words from us a lot while you’re growing up.

I should warn you ahead of time: your daddy is a big science and math guy. He’s already talking about helping you with your homework and teaching you how things work. Of course that’s a good thing, but if you want him to just relax and play a game with you, you might have to pull him away from the computer first. Don’t worry, though -- I do it all the time, and he’s loads of fun once you get him started. Full of laughs, that daddy of yours. You’ll love him as much as I do, I know you will.

As for your mom, I’m into music and books. I can’t wait to sing songs with you and help you to learn new words. I can’t wait to make you breakfast and take you outside to look at the flowers and trees. We’ll have fun together and I promise to take good care of you. But there’s still a lot I don’t know about being a mom, and I hope you’ll be patient with me while I figure things out.

Well, Little Vij, I guess that’s all for now. Just know that your daddy and I are thinking about you and wishing we could be there. Until we meet you, every day that passes is another day of your life that we have to miss out on, and that is getting harder and harder for us to bear. But I suppose you’re still too little to understand all of that. You don’t know anything about paperwork and waiting periods and international adoption policies. You just want someone to love you.

Don’t worry, Little Vij. We already do.

Love,
Mom

How To Wait Without Losing Your Mind

2009-09-14T16:42:00.017-04:00

We hope our agency will be calling soon with the news that we're finally going to be parents. In the meantime, here is my personal checklist for surviving the wait.

1) Remain positive. Focus on how happy you’ll be when you finally bring your child home. Tell yourself you’ll be so ecstatic about parenthood that it won’t matter one bit how long you had to wait. And wait. And wait.

2) Remember what you signed up for. Nobody told you international adoption would be quick and easy. When discouraged, remember all the things you've had to wait for in the past -- like a husband, for example. And that turned out okay, didn't it?

3) Indulge yourself. Take time to do things you won’t be able to do when you have a little one in the house. Stay in the shower for longer than thirty seconds. Read a book without pop-up animals in it. Watch entire episodes of Ghost Whisperer. As a special treat, sit at Starbucks with your laptop for two hours while your husband is at work. (Just try to imagine doing that with a toddler.)

4) Stay active. Inactivity is bad -- it will only encourage you to stew over the fact that your child is waiting for you somewhere in Moscow right now and you can’t do anything about it. Keep busy and keep moving, even at night. If you're a real overachiever, develop insomnia.

5) Enjoy some retail therapy. Go shopping for t-shirts and jeans at Old Navy, then sneak into the toddler department to look at the cute little fleece jackets and footie pajamas. If you happen to be the only woman in the place without a baby, pretend not to notice.

6) Exercise a lot. Not only will the staff at the Y come to know you by name, but you’ll develop rock-hard abs and firm buttocks, too. (Or did I just dream that last part?)

7) Like a good mama bird, prepare the nest. Buy a new dresser at Wal-Mart to hold all of your child’s things. Assemble it and place it in a corner of the bedroom. Tell yourself it won’t have to sit empty for very long.

8) In moments of weakness, call your adoption agency to make sure they didn't lose your phone number. Listen carefully as they tell you they still haven’t heard anything. Thank them for their help and promise yourself you won't bother them again.

9) Remember you are not alone. Many adoptive parents have survived the waiting process, and many wonderful people are rooting for you right now. You have friends. Be grateful for this.

10) Blog. It might not help, but it can’t hurt.

End of August

2009-08-31T14:00:00.002-04:00

If you've been following our story for long, you know that the international program director for our agency told us back in June that we probably wouldn't hear anything from Russia until September. So we have spent the past two months waiting, keeping ourselves busy, and quietly imagining our future as a family.

We know there are no guarantees in international adoption and that our wait may be long from over. We try not to get our hopes up too high. But in our minds and our hearts we are already parents - to a child who is not yet known to us, but who is living, breathing, eating, sleeping, crying, and playing halfway across the world right now.

Tomorrow is September 1st. We are ready.

Speaking of Additions to the Family...

2009-08-24T14:08:00.005-04:00

...meet Rehan, a wiggly four-month-old ball of fur and the newest member of the Vij clan. Harv's mom adopted Rehan earlier this summer, and we finally got to meet him on our trip to California last week. His name was taken from a character in a Bollywood movie, and if this photo is any indication, little Rehan is destined for stardom himself some day.

It's good to know that when we bring our own Little Vij home, there will be at least one puppy in the family to play with. And in case you're wondering, Rehan does have two beautiful eyes somewhere behind all that fur. He's due for his first haircut any day now.

Children are Children

2009-08-17T16:20:00.007-04:00

I was searching the internet for quotes about adoption one afternoon when I happened upon a new vocabulary word: adoptism. I'd heard of racism and sexism, but never adoptism. Apparently it involves prejudice against any member of the adoption triad: birth parent, adoptee, or adoptive parent. This prejudice can take many forms, but at the center of it is a belief - conscious or otherwise - that forming a family by birth is inherently better than forming one by adoption. It also involves the belief that children should ideally be raised "by their own kind."

I don't like to get too caught up in "isms," but after researching adoptism for a while I realized that even though the whole idea was new to me, I had already spent some time on both the giving and receiving ends.

On the giving end was my initial resistance to adoptive parenting. I must step up and admit that until about a year and a half ago I felt extremely ambivalent about adopting a child. I was holding on to a notion that I now realize was absolutely wrong. It pains me to say it, but part of me felt that adopting was the equivalent of raising someone else's child. Thankfully I know better now.

As for the receiving end, during my first writing class at Grub Street I submitted an essay about Harv's and my decision to adopt. I didn't go into all the details, but I indicated that we had decided to adopt a child from Russia. One member of my class returned my essay to me without a single comment about my writing, but with one glaring comment about our decision. In the margin in bright red ink he wrote, "Why not America?"

At the time it seemed like an inappropriate question, but I was too new at the adoption game back then to name all the reasons why. I figured he was some kind of flag-waver, a guy who would tell you that charity begins at home and we should keep to our own shores. But now I can see his reaction for what it was: a blatant example of adoptism. He must have felt on some level - conscious or otherwise - that children should be raised by their own kind and in their own country. He must have also felt he had the fundamental right to question me for not choosing domestic adoption. I don't think he meant to be rude, but according to the rules of fair play I could have turned around and challenged his decision to father three biological children without adopting any. For that matter, I could have questioned him for choosing to parent at all.

But his decisions were none of my business, and likewise, he had no business questioning me - even though I brought up the subject of adoption in the first place by writing an essay about it. The fact is that children are children, including his three and my soon-to-be one. The decision to parent a child lovingly and responsibly is one we should stand up and applaud regardless of how any family is put together.

I'm sure there will be more adoptism in the future for my child, my husband, and me. Here's hoping we will have the patience and compassion to handle it well.

Postcard from Provincetown

2009-08-10T15:25:00.006-04:00

Waiting, waiting, waiting—that’s the theme for this summer. Luckily we have some good friends to keep us entertained so we don’t have to just sit around and worry.

The photo at left shows us with Little Vij’s Uncle Tom, who helped us out months ago by writing a reference for our adoption dossier. He invited us to spend last weekend with him on Cape Cod, where he has rented a cottage in Provincetown for three weeks. This photo was taken about three quarters of the way through an exhilarating half-day bike ride through sand dunes, beaches, and forests. That’s the Atlantic Ocean in the background.

We had a wonderful time in P’town and are grateful to Tom and all those who have helped us out along the way. It takes a village to raise a child, and in our case, to bring a child home in the first place.

Baseball Roadtrip

2009-08-03T13:12:00.015-04:00

Little Vij doesn't know it yet, but we're a baseball family. Harv and I went to Baltimore this weekend and attended a game between the Orioles and the Red Sox at Camden Yards.

The Sox won 4-0 and we had a great view of the field from the first base line. In the picture at right, you can almost tell that Josh Beckett is on the mound.

Well...okay, maybe you can't.

But here's hoping that the next time we go to a game at a major league park, we'll have a little pitcher of our own tagging along!

Keepsakes

2009-07-13T15:38:00.012-04:00

“Do you know if you’re getting a boy or a girl?”

It’s a favorite question, one that comes up moments after someone new learns that Harv and I are adopting. My typical answer is, “No, we don’t have any idea. Either one is fine with us.” And it’s true. We’ll be happy either way.

We’re unique in this world because modern parents, both adoptive and biological, usually know their child’s gender in advance. They know much more than that, too. Recently I saw a feature on the news about 4-D ultrasounds, a technology in which the level of detail is so amazing that the simple question of a child’s gender becomes passé. Expectant parents can see incredibly vivid pictures of their babies in the womb. Nothing is left to the imagination—from facial features to fingernails, it’s all there. No need to wait until Junior is born to see if he has Mom’s chin or Dad’s nose.

These hi-def ultrasounds are rarely prescribed out of medical necessity; more often, boutique providers market them directly to parents who seek a unique keepsake. One mom confessed that she paid for one because she just couldn’t wait to find out what her little boy was going to look like. “I’m going to put the ultrasound pictures in his baby album,” she said.

Harv and I know very well we won’t get to see any ultrasound photos of our child. In fact, we’ll be lucky to get a picture at all before we travel to Russia. But as much as we’d like to see what Little Vij looks like, we're more concerned about our child’s health and well-being than fingernails, noses, and chins.

When we assemble Little Vij’s baby album, we won’t have any dramatic pre-natal photos to post on the front page, and that’s okay. Instead of fancy ultrasounds, we will have other things, like plane tickets, special mementos from Russia, my adoption diary, and little scraps of anything we can find to help tell the story of our child’s first months on earth.

This collection of odds and ends will be our own special keepsake, as unique as any I can imagine.

Postcard from Iowa

2009-07-06T23:21:00.005-04:00

We spent the Fourth of July weekend with the Rash family in Des Moines. A trip to Iowa usually means dinner at the Big Steer in Altoona, and this weekend was no exception. Little Vij's Grandpa Rash ordered the rib eye special. (As advertised out front in bright lights, on the broad side of a "big steer.")

The Rashes are all looking forward to a new addition to the family. Hopefully they won't have to wait too much longer. Happy Fourth!

A Real Mom

2009-06-29T08:09:00.007-04:00

(A much shorter version of this essay is slated for publication in Adoptive Families Magazine. Check back for more details and a link.)

“Please join us for a picnic,” the email said. “This will be a wonderful opportunity to connect with others who have adopted or are in the process of adopting from Russia.” I immediately marked the date on the calendar and told my husband we were going.

We had signed on with an agency and were about halfway done with our dossier, but even though we had successfully begun our adoption process, what I needed at this point - even more than I needed help with all the forms and notarizations - was confirmation that we were doing the right thing. I had entered into adoption knowing so little about it that despite my husband’s enthusiasm, I continued to have doubts. Nobody in my family had ever adopted, and I had trouble imagining what it would be like to raise an adopted child. I never voiced my hesitation out loud for fear of sounding…well, horrible. But despite everything I had heard and read about the powerful bond between adoptive parents and their children, part of me still worried that I would never feel like a “real” mom.

On Saturday, the day before the picnic, I baked a dozen chocolate chip cookies and kept my eye on the weather forecast. As expected, it rained steadily on Sunday morning, but by mid-afternoon the sky began to clear. My husband and I climbed into our Jeep with an umbrella and my tray of cookies and made our way to the park. When we arrived, the parking lot was empty and there was no sign of our agency’s banner.

“Are you sure this is the right park?” my husband asked.

“I think so,” I said. “Let’s get out and walk. Maybe we’ll bump into someone.”

We found a trail that ran along the river and followed it. Drops of rain fell from the leafy branches overhead, pelting us gently as we passed. Cool, damp air closed in around us and gray clouds began to swirl in the sky. More rain, I thought. No picnic.

“We should probably turn around,” my husband said.

We walked back toward the Jeep expecting to return home and eat our tray of cookies in front of the TV. Instead, as we rounded the bend toward the parking lot, we saw our social worker and three other officials from our agency walking toward us. Behind them several cars had pulled into the lot, and a dozen or so excited children were climbing out and running toward the play yard.

We greeted our social worker and shook hands with her colleagues from the agency. Over the next half hour, they introduced us to the other parents, most of whom had completed their adoptions long ago. From the first moment, they welcomed us warmly into their circle, sharing stories and offering us advice about everything from local pediatricians to the best pizza places in Moscow.

We gathered around a picnic table to talk while the children played nearby. During the course of our conversation, I watched closely as the parents responded to a whole series of interruptions from the kids. Skinned knees, missing toys, mosquito bites, pleas for more chocolate cake—they handled it all. By the time two-year-old Rosie poured a handful of dirt down the front of her ladybug t-shirt and her daddy had to swoop in and clean her up, I knew I was in the midst of some pretty typical parents and children. In fact, they reminded me a lot of my own family.

At one point I found myself seated next to Gina, who had adopted her daughter Isabel from Moscow two years earlier. Isabel, now almost four, sat peacefully in her mother’s lap while the other children played on the jungle gym. I watched as Gina gently stroked her daughter’s hair, just like my mother used to do when I was little.

“So, where are you in the process?” Gina asked me.

“Still working on our dossier,” I answered.

“Hmmm. Seems like a long road ahead, doesn’t it?”

“It does. I feel like such a novice when I meet all of you pros.”

“Just remember,” Gina said, “we all started out exactly where you are now.” Then she turned to look me in the eye. “I know it seems trite,” she said, “but you have to believe in your heart that everything will work out just like it’s supposed to. I can tell you from experience that no matter how difficult things get, when you bring your child home you will feel so much love and gratitude. You’ll look back and know it was worth all the trouble.”

Touched by her honesty, I nodded. Then I looked down at little Isabel, whose dark brown eyes had fixed upon me as if to say, “That’s my mom. You can believe her.”

The next morning I spoke with our social worker on the phone. After we went over some details for our home study, she asked me if I had enjoyed the picnic.

“Absolutely,” I told her. “The children were so beautiful, and so happy.”

“I thought you’d enjoy it,” she said.

“And the parents,” I went on. “Adoptive parents, I mean. I don’t know if they ever think of themselves this way, but it’s almost like a giant club. All over the world, no matter how different they are, they share such a unique bond.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “Adoptive parents are a pretty special bunch.”

“I’m so glad I get to be one of them,” I said. “I get to be in their club.”

She laughed. She could tell that morning, and so could I, that the picnic had changed things for me. The opportunity to see ordinary adoptive families in an everyday setting offered me exactly what I needed—my first real sense of belonging as an adoptive mom. And even though the families I met that day may never know it, their example helped me realize that when my husband and I finally bring our child home, I won’t just feel like a real mom. I’ll be one.

Make Room For Daddy

2009-06-21T19:32:00.010-04:00

Welcome to the special Father's Day edition of the Little Vij blog. In honor of
this special occasion, I have invited Harv to write this week's post.
Here is what he has to say:

Pretty soon fatherhood won't be such an abstract concept to me any longer. Fortunately, I remember all of the valuable lessons that Dad taught me over the years...with a lot of patience, I might add! Happy Father's Day, Dad! I miss you very much.

Very eloquent, indeed. Harv is going to be a great Dad!

The Waiting Game

2009-06-15T17:53:00.000-04:00

I talked to the international program director for our agency this afternoon, and she thinks it's very likely that we will have to wait until September for any news from Russia. Even though the offices we need are "up and running" throughout the summer, so many people go on holiday that adoption paperwork slows to a crawl. Our file may be sitting on someone's desk gathering dust even as I type.

There's always a possibility that we will hear something before the end of the summer, but it sounds like we should not hold our breath. In fact, it would probably be a good idea for us to book a couple of vacations so we don't go absolutely crazy waiting for news. Sigh.

Baby Loot

2009-06-08T20:32:00.000-04:00

Little Vij's Auntie Susan visited us from Pittsburgh this past weekend, and we celebrated by going on a big shopping spree at Babies-R-Us. (We also hit DSW pretty hard, but we'll show you our new shoes some other time.) Take a look at this magnificent spread of baby loot: pet pals, nifty bowls with lids, a booster seat, crayons, tub toys, sippy cups, a rock 'n stack, and some good reading.

The only thing missing - aside from the actual baby - is the perfect teddy bear. We haven't found the right one yet, but we'll keep looking because it has to be out there somewhere.

Harv and I learned from our Russian teacher, Anna, that in Russia teddy bears are named "Mishka." So when we find that perfect bear, we will name him "Mishka" to honor the Russian tradition.

Still no word from our agency, but it feels great to have some toys in the house!

An Empty Crib

2009-06-01T19:57:00.000-04:00

The picture tells it all. Harv and I are waiting, waiting, waiting for that fateful telephone call from our adoption agency. As soon as we get word, we're off to Moscow! In the meantime, we're keeping busy by making a list of first names that sound good with "Vij."