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| July 7, 2013 Philadelphia, Pennsylvania |
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| July 9, 2007 Karaganda, Kazakhstan |
Six years ago, as I was making the long trip from New York to Kazakhstan, a boy caught my attention on the flight from London to Almaty. He was about 9 or 10 years old and seemed to be traveling home with his schoolmates and a few teachers. He was the "spirited" one in the group: smiling, moving from seat to seat talking with friends, full of energy, with a slightly mischievous twinkle in his eye. I thought to myself, "I hope the child I adopt grows up to have as much spunk as that boy!" I was on my way to the Shapagat Baby House to meet children available for adoption. My request was to meet children under two years of age, either gender, any race -- I was traveling blind. I had followed many other adoptive parents' blogs and knew that there seemed to be two different experiences of others who had traveled blind: some recognized the child that was meant for them as soon as he or she was brought into the room; others needed more time to get to know the children before making a difficult choice about which one to adopt. I was hoping for the gut-feeling, quick decision experience. But how would I know which baby/toddler would grow into a child like the one I saw on the plane?
As I look at these two photos, the one taken on July 9, 2007 just moments after I met Arman and the one taken the other day, I can't help thinking about the photos I carried with me to Karaganda to give to Rosa, the director of the baby house. After I received permission to travel to Kazakhstan (which meant there were adoptable children available for me to meet), I posted a message on the SingleKazMoms Yahoo group and the other one that was for all families who had or were adopting from Kazakhstan saying that anyone who wanted to send Rosa a message should send it to me before I traveled. I recall that about 8 people sent cards and photos with updates about their children who had been adopted from Shapagat Baby House. Most included the same types of photos as the ones above -- the first photo from that day they met and then a more recent one. When I finally arrived in my hotel room (at the Dostar Alem Hotel in Karaganda) near midnight on July 8th, I was too excited and nervous to sleep. In the morning, I would go to the baby house and would have to make that enormous choice. After unpacking and checking out all the stuff that the family before me had left in the room, I spread out all the photos and cards and letters on the bed. I studied each one carefully to see what those now happy children looked like when there were babies living at Shapagat. I felt much more confident as I went to sleep, eager for the next day to begin.
Most of you already know the rest of the story. I met four babies the next morning. One girl, three boys. Arman was the 4th child brought into the room. I felt no strong connection with the previous three - each had been carried into the room by one of the wonderful care-givers. One at a time, they came into the room. The translator announced the name, gender, and birthdate. Then they stayed in the room and the care-giver seemed to advocate for "their baby" yelling at me in Russian to choose that one. After the third one, my heart sank and I worried that I would have to be assertive, asking to meet more children. I feared it would not be a clear choice. Then, the door burst open and in walked Dr. Svetlana carrying Arman above her head as if he were an airplane. He had a huge smile on his face and as the translator called out the details, it all clicked: "baby boy Arman" -- I remembered a neighbor in NYC who named their son Armand so I realized that I could keep his name as Arman (somehow, this had become an obsession with me as I prepared for the adoption: I wanted to leave the name unchanged as long as it was a name that would be somewhat familiar in the U.S.), born December 1st, 2006 -- aha!, we would both have our birthdays in December, I thought. Finally, my brain flashed to a photo of my nephew taken years earlier where he was being held up in the same way and also smiling broadly. Done. Those were the signs that this baby wanted me to be his mama. If you've read the original post from July 9, 2007, you know that Arman sealed the deal by throwing up all over that dress a few minutes after the first photo was taken. Nothing says unconditional love like no longer caring that one of your favorite dresses smells like baby vomit!
Flash forward to 2013... A few weeks ago I dropped off Arman at soccer camp. It was the first day. He was so excited to get there that he went from sleeping in bed to fully dressed with shin-guards and cleats and strapped into his car seat in less than 30 minutes, begging to leave for camp. We arrived early and, as it turned out, so did his close friend Simon who was just as eager to get the day started. As they danced around so excited to see each other, it suddenly hit me: Arman has grown into the happy, energetic, sometimes-devilish boy I was so captivated by six years ago. The one on the flight from London to Almaty. My wish had come true.
I am sure that I have learned more from Arman over the past six years than he has learned from me. I will always be grateful that he chose me, on that fateful day, to be his mama!
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