Meeting "Melody" - March 4 - 6, 2013

3/4/2013 Overnighter train

"Train Coffee"

We took a 12-hour train ride on a rickety 1940’s-or-before-era train all through the night and into the morn, headed southeast towards *ussia to the region of XXX,  a city called XXX.  We were in a “sleep” car, a teeny compartment with four iron bunks, but I couldn’t sleep and watched XXX  pass by for hours on end until the sun eventually came up, listening to the groans and clackity-clacks of the old train.  The landscape was primarily countryside and abandoned war-era brick buildings without windows and shacks pieced together with concrete, tin, bricks, etc., broken up by occasional graveyards that ran along the train tracks.  Mostly it was a blur of birch trees passing and decrepit buildings … and no snow, much to my surprise!  Peter was like a little boy on the train:  He LOVES old trains, and when he was able to purchase a couple cups of strong “train” coffee  early in the morn, he was like a little boy on Christmas morning.  We arrived in XXX at 7:30 a.m., disheveled and spaced out … with just enough time to drop of our packs to our apartment, brush our teeth, drive to the office of the regional social worker to pass off paperwork, and head to the orphanage!

3/5/2013 Meeting Melody for the first time  (sorry I cannot post pics of her yet!)

It happened in the orphanage director’s office, along with the director himself, our facilitator who translated for us, the regional social worker, another adoptive family, and the children’s doctors.  First, each family was given a cryptic prenatal, birth, and medical history of their child in *ussian which was translated into English -- no easy task when it came to describing the heart surgery Melody had a year ago in which three separate defects (two of which I'd never heard of)were repaired.  We scribbled notes as fast as we could, as this is our only opportunity to get medical info about the children.  When the doctors finished, our children were “presented.”  Melody arrived first, carried in by two groupa nannies who appeared to be under pressure to have her perform well for us, as they nervously cooed  her name every time she made a little squawk, lest she start to fuss.  I burst into tears when I saw her.  She looked just as I dreamed, only more beautiful and about half the size.  She has gorgeous dark hair, eyes, and lashes, and a perfectly chiseled nose.  She was chirping loudly (“singing,” they called it) and was described as “strong-willed.”  Her thin little legs poked out from beneath a ruffly dress, and her hands looked the size of a newborn’s.  She twisted around to see the lights of the office, which intrigued her.  I was able to hold her for a couple minutes before the next baby was “presented” and Melody was whisked out.  Peter appeared to be in shock.  After presentation we were given one more opportunity to ask questions of the doctor, and then asked right then and there if, given all we’d seen and heard, we still wanted to adopt these children, all three of whom have Down Syndrome.  We of course accepted.  :)  T'was love at first sight ...

3/6/13 City XXX

City XXX, from the outside, resembles a slum … miles of ancient, crumbly apartment buildings  with balconies pieced together of scrap metal, corrugated tin, wood pieces, spray-painted all different colors.  But the sidewalks are alive with people and families bundles up in their finest and warmest, walking to whatever their destination may be.  Despite its sketchy aesthetic, it feels very safe outside amongst the crowds and stray dogs.  There are little playgrounds everywhere, nestled beside most apartments.  I love how the children are always well-behaved and holding the hands of their parents.  Most families appear to have one child; occasionally you’ll see two.  It’s ironic to me that sitting just behind these apartments is our enormous orphanage, housing approximately 160 institutionalized babies, most of them perfectly healthy.  There is nothing tourist about this city; indeed, we’ve yet to meet anyone who speaks any English except an occasional “good-bye.”  Our court date has been tentatively set for March 22, which means for the next 2-plus weeks, we’ll be walking to the orphanage twice a day for a one-hour visit with Melody, and traversing the area and shops on foot.  I love it here, moreso with each passing day.

Our little apartment is on the fifth floor.   The stairwell, which is dark and cement, freaks me out.  But the inside of the apartment is bright and warm and comfortable.  We never could get the internet via the apartment’s Ethernet to work, but we were finally able to find a dicey Wi-Fi connection.  We were warned that the bathroom light doesn’t work, so we do our business by flashlight.  The showerhead doesn’t work either, so I curl in a ball underneath the spigot.  Peter’s found a different method. 

Each day seems to get a little colder and finally it snowed … and snowed.    It doesn’t slow anyone down:  STILL the sidewalks are full, STILL the cars rip by, and STILL the beautiful women wear boots with heels!  Snow has taken the harsh edge off, and it’s magical outside.