A new mom at 50:

It all began with a 10 year old's sunny smile

I always knew deep in my heart that I wanted to be a mom. As I collected college degrees and built my career resume, there always seemed to be something missing in my life as I moved from Michigan to England to Indiana to New Jersey and back to Michigan. Looking back, my decision to pursue adoption didn’t really have anything to do with saving an impoverished child or becoming less self-focused. I simply wanted to be a mom and there were already plenty of children out there who needed one.

 

In focusing on Russia as my adoptive country of choice (before adoptions by Americans were prohibited several years later), I knew there were many adoption agencies doing business there, with an estimated 750,000 older children needing families. Since most adoptive parents wanted babies and toddlers, there was a desperate need for parents who didn’t mind foregoing diaper changing and the terrible twos.

 Thus began a nightly journey into adoption options as I visited hundreds of research links and adoption agency websites. And then one day, this photo of a very cute 10-year-old girl popped up on my computer screen as I was surfing through an agency website.  This was before the restrictions on photo listings were imposed, so I had seen plenty of older children represented by these agencies. Something about her sunny smile and the sparkle in her eyes made me stop and read the few sentences about her.

After many days of beating back many uncertainties (not the least of which was my advancing age of 50), I decided it wouldn’t hurt to call the adoption agency and ask for a video and additional photos of the child, whose name was Maria. The photo of her that I particularly liked was a precursor to the fashionista she was to become.  Even though her clothes were old and worn and not even her own, she had put them together with a certain flair.  She had even managed to avoid the head-shaving ritual that so often occurred due to lice infestation and sported a stylish bob.  And of course there was that smile!

Once I decided to adopt Maria, I had to commit to the adoption agency representing her. The agency was based in Texas with the international adoption office in California and I live in Michigan. Computers, faxes, phone calls and overnight mail cemented our relationship, which actually began on a decidedly negative note when my adoption facilitator was fired. He eventually created a less than honest adoption agency and wound up on the FBI’s 10-most-wanted list. Fortunately, my adoption process was not impacted by this turn of events.     

At long last, I received THE CALL from the adoption agency informing me that everything was approved and authorized and I could fly off to Russia. My first meeting with Maria in her orphanage was an experience I will never forget, yet meeting her was also more like a homecoming of sorts.  I had internalized her video, her photos and her background information so much that I felt I had known her for a long time. At our first meeting, with her tentative “hello, mama,” the face and especially the smile were as familiar to me as any daughter’s would be. 

Our court date for adoption approval, however, could probably not have been more stressful.  Translator in tow, we were met at the courthouse by Maria’s wailing, hysterical grandmother.  But I knew I had to focus on the job at hand – getting through testimony in front of the judge, who turned out to be an imposing woman who never cracked a smile. All I could think was that our future together depended on one word from her – yes or no.  Finally, she returned and rendered her decision.  I could adopt Maria, but there would be a 10-day waiting period, ostensibly to allow any of her relatives to come forward and claim her. I was thrilled with the decision, but also disappointed by the delay. 

Returning to Russia after 10 days, followed by several days of completing paperwork, a medical exam and an embassy visit (along with excursions to a zoo and McDonald’s), in Moscow, we were free to leave for the United States.  I remember skipping through the airport hand in hand with my new daughter, much to the amusement of other travelers. It had been such a long journey to get there, but I knew that the real journey was yet to come – the journey toward becoming mother and daughter.

(Note: about two years after adopting Maria, I returned to Russia to adopt another 10-year-old, Lucy. Today, they are in their 20s, and building adult lives in Michigan and Italy, respectively. November is National Adoption Month )