Seventeen years ago, I made the journey to Moscow to bring home my 2-year-old daughter. Friends and coworkers praised my decision, calling it altruistic and noble. “You’re saving a life,” they said. My neighbors lauded my selflessness, saying I could have been spending that money on a tropical getaway. But inside, I wanted to shout, “No, this isn’t just about charity. This is about me!” I wasn’t focused on the little girl in the orphanage facing an uncertain future; rather, I was at a pivotal point in my life after a divorce and several failed relationships. I simply wanted to be a mother.
After much contemplation, I weighed my options. Given my age and history of breast cancer, pregnancy felt too risky. I was informed that domestic adoptions could take years, and since my grandmother had immigrated from Russia, I felt a profound connection to that country. So, I dove into the process.
Confession One
In the final moments, I nearly backed out. There I was, alone in a rundown hotel room in Moscow with cockroaches crawling across the walls. The legal adoption hearing was set for the next morning, and my interpreter was by my side. The adoption agency head cautioned, “If you’re having second thoughts, now is the time to change your mind.” My stomach churned with anxiety.
Visiting my soon-to-be daughter in the orphanage earlier that day left me feeling nothing. I even questioned if she was the right child. “That’s not the adorable toddler from the video!” I insisted to my interpreter. But it was—my girl ran from me and threw the beanie baby I had brought for her onto the floor.
Confession Two
The adoption hearing felt surreal. I was detached, as if I was observing myself from afar. When I finally held my daughter after the hearing, she burst into tears when the caregiver handed her over. In that moment, I instinctively handed her back, thinking it would be better for her to receive comfort from the caregiver. The truth is, I was terrified and questioned my decision.
Confession Three
The initial years were tough—full of intense tantrums, particularly during car rides. Luckily, I found a daycare in the same building as my office, but after three months of being with her constantly, I needed to return to work. She screamed all the way there and back. Yet, amidst the chaos, there were moments of pure joy; her inquisitive nature shone through: “Look at the birdies, Mama!” “Look at the sky!”
As she entered adolescence, attachment issues flared up, leading to risky behaviors like sneaking out and swearing at me. Friends often asked, “Are you regretting your choice? Would you do it again?” I pondered, sometimes thinking, “What have I gotten myself into?”
Despite the dark thoughts that even biological parents may experience, I must confess: my daughter has expanded my heart in ways I never thought possible.
Now that she’s 19, our lives are calmer. She’s very different from me. While I devour books, she’d rather visit the dentist than read. I prioritize exercise; she complains about walking the dog. All parents have hopes and dreams for their children, often envisioning who they will become. When those expectations aren’t met, what can we do? We’ve passed the point of no return; we can’t give them back. So, we love them unconditionally, accepting them for who they are. Perhaps that’s the essence of unconditional love.
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In summary, the journey of adoption is filled with challenges and unexpected joys. It’s a path that requires resilience, love, and acceptance, leading to a profound bond that transcends expectations.