Stahlke Adoption

More Anniversary Events

Yesterday marked the one-year anniversary of Kola leaving the orphange into Jonathan's custody. Here's part of my entry from a year ago:

Jonathan childproofed the apartment, mostly by packing suitcases, and then met one of our taxi drivers, Ihor, who had previously agreed to be on call all day. Jonathan and Ihor ran around town in the taxi, running errands but mostly buying chocolates and flowers and apple juice and bananas. Jonathan arrived at the orphanage for the late afternoon appointment. He signed reams of documents, which our lawyer gave to him and the translator explained. Then Jonathan met Mikola, who was sporting the new clothes Jonathan had previously brought for him. For the first time, Jonathan visited his living quarters, to accompany Mikola during the final goodbyes with his classmates and caretakers.

Mikola's group has approximately twenty-five children, mostly 3½ to 4½ years old. As a 5½-year-old, Mikola stands a head taller than the other children. The children his own age had left the baby orphanage over a year ago, moving four blocks away to the facility for schoolage children where our first five children lived. The director of the baby orphanage had not sent Mikola with his classmates because she knew he would be adopted soon. A double move in quick succession would be very difficult for a young child. Unfortunately, Mikola's adoption was delayed by an entire year, and he waited for what must have seemed an eternity to a little boy.

The children drank apple juice and savored their bananas, which are better than candy to them. Jonathan handed out gifts to the caretakers, and left gifts for the ones who work on a different shift. Tears were shed, for Mikola had been their child for 2½ years. Yet everyone knew that a goodbye was inevitable; if Mikola wasn't adopted, he would have moved on to the next orphanage. There is great joy among the staff members that Mikola is joining a family and being reunited with his brothers and sisters.

The children in Mikola's group then stood in a circle, and he moved slowly from one to the next. Shaking each child's hand, he spoke to them one by one to offer a goodbye: not the "Pakah" that most children say, but the formal words that adults use: "Do pobachena."

Jonathan and Mikola walked to the director's office. This kind lady cared for Mikola for 4½ years, saving him so he could join our family. She clearly loves Mikola as one of her favorites: he would often play in her office while she worked. Jonathan handed the immense bouquet of flowers to Mikola. He was so proud to thank her by giving her flowers, and then he said goodbye. Neither she nor Jonathan could hold back their tears. Jonathan told her that words could not express our thanks at all she had done to care so well for him.

Jonathan and Mikola walked out of the orphanage for the last time. I haven't heard, but I can imagine they might have petted the two orphanage cats who often sit at the door. They walked to the front gate, and this time Mikola walked through instead of watching. Two vehicles waited--Ihor's taxi and the lawyer's private car. The lawyer offered to drive Jonathan and Mikola, so Jonathan thanked Ihor and they all loaded up into the car and drove away.

The lawyer dropped off Jonathan and Mikola at the telephone store in downtown Kirovohrad. Outside the store, Mikola was entranced by the lights that draped some of the trees--he had never seen such a thing. Inside, Jonathan paid money for a telephone booth that had two receivers, so that he could translate. After settling Mikola down, who was playing with the cord on the phone, Jonathan dialed Chicago. After talking with me (more on that in a moment), I passed the phone to my mother and father. "Kola, this is grandma. I love you!" "Kola, this is grandpa. I heard you had a party today . . . ." My parents welcomed their newest grandson, and I beamed.

When I spoke with Kola, I asked how he was doing and we talked a little bit. I then told him I loved him. Then he HAD to tell me something of great import, in more ways than one:

"Mama, I rode in a CAR!!

posted by Stahlkes @ 11:24 AM