Meeting my son

The "baby house," as they call orphanages here, sits in a beautiful park- a forest of sorts.  The trees and grass are brilliantly green around us.  The weather is beautiful; blue skies and puffy white clouds float above us while sunshine streams onto our faces.  We walk through a large black iron gate onto the orphanage site.  The baby house is pale yellow with many windows.  Empty baby prams line either side of a ramp toward the front door.  We enter into the foyer and our translator stops to talk to a woman in an office by the door; I think she is the security guard.

We keep walking into a long hallway with shiny white tiles and many doors on either side.  Our translator tells us that we will first talk to the orphanage director and then meet the boy.  The director's office is large and sunny.  He stands and smiles widely as we walk inside.  I take a few steps forward to shake his hand.  John does the same.  He motions for us to sit on a tan leather couch.

We sit for about 10 minutes while the director gives us our little man's history in Russian.  Our translator translates into English.  I write everything down as fast as I can.  In the middle of a sentence about when he was born, I hear footsteps echoing down the white tiled hall.  The orphanage director smiles and our translator says, "That's him coming."

John and I are barely breathing, listening to those footsteps get closer.  It seems like an eternity until suddenly there he is.  Standing before us, clutching his nanny's hand.

He is so beautiful, I think.  He is the most beautiful child I have ever seen.

I am in love with him.

I am sitting on the far left of the couch and he is by the door to the right.  I stand up and step past John to get to him.  I crouch down in front of him and whisper hello.  He looks at his nanny who speaks to him in Russian.  His lip starts to quiver and John quickly passes me the lovey we brought.  I smile and shake the lovey, revealing the rattle inside.  He smiles back.

His nanny speaks again in Russian, this time to our translator.  Our translator tells us what she is saying:

He is very shy with new people. 

He loves to play with blocks and puzzles. 

He does not like music class.  

He is so smart.  

He is a good sleeper and he loves to eat. 

He is our favourite. 

She puts his hand out for me to hold.  I touch him.  I cannot stop thinking how beautiful he is.

I am aware of John beside me saying softly hi there and ohh-ing and aww-ing over his little son.

The nanny speaks again in Russian and starts walking our little man out of the room.  The orphanage director motions for us to follow.  He puts us in a playroom while the nanny takes our little man to the bathroom.  He is potty trained I think.   John and I wait for a moment in the playroom, smiling at one another.  I am willing myself not to cry because I do not want to scare our little man.

The playroom seems like a child's dream world.  There are toys of every kind, a giant stuffed bear in the corner, and a brightly coloured ball pit.  Everything is clean.  Sunlight pours into the room from bright windows.

Our son comes back into the room with his nanny.  She tells him to go play and he does.  He goes right for the puzzles and blocks, just like she said he would.

While he plays I am constantly touching him.  I rub his back.  I hold his hand.  I stroke his head.  His hair is buzzed very short.  Another nanny stops by the room to apologize for his haircut.  He has the most beautiful curls, she says, but they keep the children's hair short for easy care, especially in the heat of the summer.  I clasp my chest at the mention of curls; oh how I cannot wait to see them!

We play for half an hour.  John and I are amazed by everything he does.  How he squats while playing.  How he concentrates so intently and for so long on his project.  How he sighs with little grunts when a toy ring gets stuck on it's stacking tower.  Eventually I pull him onto my lap and I kiss his head.  I breathe him in. I am so happy.

Too soon, his nanny comes to tell us it is time for his lunch.  We put the toys away together.  He amazes us as he works; he is organized and particular already.  Everything goes back in its place.

I want to hug him but I wonder if he is ready.  I take my chances.  To me it feels like he is letting me hug him; John tells me that he put his little arms around my shoulder and hugged me back.

I take his hands and walk him back toward his nanny.  Through our translator she says, "I am amazed.  I thought he would cry.  When he goes to music class without me, he waits until the end and as soon as he hears my voice he runs back to me.  He was so comfortable with them!"

I think to myself that I have been praying that he would bond with one of his nannies and develop a secure attachment.  Here she is- the woman I have been praying for- and he is clearly bonded with her.  I am amazed at the answer to my prayer.

He nanny asks him to wave.  He looks right into my eyes as he does and I think he is looking into my soul.

As quickly as he came, he is gone.  We will see him for two hours tomorrow; tomorrow cannot come soon enough.

My beautiful baby boy.

xo

Follow this link to read the rest of our adoption story.