Wednesday, January 27, 2010

One month ago...

One month ago I walked up the snowy walk to the double wooden doors of the baby home you call home.  I remember taking a deep breath as I came to the front and announcing to the camera I was holding, "well, we're here".  Under the fading light of the afternoon, I scanned through the window and then through the open door of the play room to see if you were there.  I didn't see you.  I remember being anxious and calm all at the same time - panic has a strange way of taking over.  I was happy I didn't have to wear gay blue booties over my feet (no disrespect to the sanitary booties) and I was relieved to be welcomed like family by Irina the director and the curious other babushkas who peeked at the Sunday visitors.  We were guided to the room in the back hall where we spent our time together and it was a blurr I am so fortunate to have on video... the first time I saw you.  You were so afraid.  There were so many people cooing and telling you that I was nice... so many people encouraging you to play with the toys just for awhile... so many ladies urging you to let go of the babushkas leg and come out to see what I had brought.  It took probably 10 minutes for you to even take your first peek at me - and that's on video too.  I think you made a break for the door 4 times before I finally pulled out your stuffy - the orange lion... and you smiled... a small, sweet, precious smile.  Probably 20 minutes in (who knows... it was a moment and an eternity all at once) You took him from me, and proceeded to feed him the crackers I had been trying to see if you would eat.  You stroked his soft fur like it was the first time you had ever held a plush toy... and likely, it was.  Someone asked you to name him and when I watch the video you say "Mika" over and over... I don't know but I think that is what you named your lion.  Mika. As you checked out every inch of your lion, your babushka told you that most kids don't have any toys of their own and how lucky you were that I brought you so many to play with.  You were unphased by the noise, the commotion, the urging and really, I am sure you didn't "get" that this strange woman you wanted no part of had travelled pretty much all the way around the world to meet you and that to me, Mama means so much more than just the lady who is younger than the babushkas who care for you.  One month ago today everything was so surreal.  It was really only just over a week before that, that I even knew your name or your picture.  Truth be told? I didn't even have time to fall in love before I left.  Did I like you? Absolutely.  Did I think that everything looked good and that I was happy?  Yes.  Did I know how you would melt me and what the exact moment would be like when I let my guard down and threw my heart over the fence would be?  No... but you did.  Ever since I have thought of being a mom, ever since I've contemplated adoption I have dreamed of one thing.  I dreamed of holding your hand and what that would feel like.  That was my vision... that was my moment.  I've carried that moment for the two years now that I've been in the process officially but ever since the first time I talked about adopting, I had that moment in my head.  The first time I talked about adoption was probably in Revelstoke at Scott's memorial.  I think I said something about maybe I'd never get married again - maybe Scott was my one true love and that would be all I might get... and that maybe I'd adopt kids and that would be my chance to be a mom.  I didn't consciously hold that moment and I didn't know it was so meaningful or even that I had replayed it over and over in my head... until it happened.  Later that day, one month ago today, you became my dream come true.  You reached up, put your tiny hand in mine and gave me every tender moment, every loving feeling, every reason to hope that I had envisioned for almost 11 years.  When you took my hand, you took my heart... A piece of me is still there with you.  One month ago I held my son and my future became a little more clear so for those of you wondering if everyone falls immediately in love with their childs photo... I didn't... I wasn't purposely holding out - I was afraid... It all happened so fast... and maybe I was waiting for a sign... I got it... and I fell.  One month ago today I met my son... and that is a day I will forever celebrate.


Deb Woodcock said...

Oh Stacey. Your life is so wonderful and so tragic. The Christmas after Scott died I got all new Christmas decorations -gold and red, mostly angels for Scott. Some glow in the dark like his love for you. I always have a hard time with my tree at Christmas. Now maybe those angels can take on an additional meaning for me. In their own way, each of my six grand children have been miracles. Thank you Grisha, you are another Christmas angel.

terence and carala said...

Teary eyed...I read this post. It will be a very special day, the day we give our kids our "books" of how we loved them, before they were ours. These blogs are their baby books...and I can't wait to share my dreams of her, with my girl...and how it all came true. I know Grisha will love reading all about how to had to travel to the ends of the earth for him. And all the hoops you had to go through. Thank you for sharing your heart with all of us. :-)