This article was published in Our Life Magazine in 2001.

I am publishing this article again today in honor of my kids 23rd adoption day. 23 years ago today, they officially became my children. The magnitude of love, joy, pride, grief, gratitude and every other possible emotion you can think of, is swirling through my mind and heart today. Never, in a million years, would I have imagined myself here. As I attempt to wrap my brain around what’s become of my family, I have begun to find a way to take comfort and feel gratitude for the incredible gift and opportunity to become the mom of my three kids. Thinking back, it still amazes me the way things fell into place and when I met my children, I had not a single doubt in my mind that God intended for me to be their mom. Even after all that’s come to pass, I still have no doubts about that. Being their Mom was my life’s purpose and it’s hard to imagine anything I could have done that would have brought more meaning to my existence.

In recent days, I had found myself contemplating their suffering and their struggles and wondered if I had done enough. After Vlady’s death, losing my relationship with Olena due to her challenges, and having Lina a million miles away serving in the military, it’s a very lonely Adoption Day. It would be easy today to be lost in sorrow. However, today as I found myself remembering all that we had together, I was suddenly filled with peace in the realization that I was the best Mom I could be. I loved and will always love the three of them no matter the time and space between us. I pray for the three of them and miss them daily. I thank God today for our many, many happy years.

Happy Adoption Day Vlady, Lina and Olena! Mnohaya Lita! Love, Mom

Only one year ago, I was awaiting a priceless Fed-Ex delivery – our Ukrainian travel visas – while I packed and unpacked the multitude of borrowed suitcases and travel paraphernalia that were strewn about my house. My husband, John and I were about to travel to Ukraine to adopt our children, yet we knew nothing about them. In my “expectant mother” dreams, I often fantasized about a little boy; I guess I had to
imagine some sweet angel who might occupy the bedroom we had so painstakingly prepared.

After the months of waiting – our visas, then our departure date arrived so quickly we scarcely had time to
finish packing. On a Monday afternoon, we arrived in Kyiv, Ukraine. The next morning, we awoke to undertake our first order of business, an interview at the Adoption Center in Kyiv. We arrived early at a modest building that did nothing to foretell the important events that would take place inside. As we climbed several flights of stairs, I felt we would never reach the top. Breathless, I peered down the empty,
dimly lit corridor, at the end of which was the office of the Adoption Center Director. We stood outside in the cold hallway, shivering, until she was ready for us. The Director greeted us in a friendly, yet business-like manner; I felt so nervous that I immediately forgot the greeting I had practiced in Ukrainian. As
dismal as the corridor had been, her office was surprisingly bright and cheerful, with fresh flowers on the
table where we sat, and photos of adopted children proudly displayed.

After a brief interview, another Adoption Center employee showed us photos of available children. Our
translators read us each child’s information, which was scanty, at best, and the photos were two or three years old. Once we selected a child to meet, the director handed us a second photo and suggested we meet this child as well. As it happened, that child is now our daughter, Olena. We waited a in the icy-cold corridor again, for the letter giving us permission to travel to the Cherkasy region. Once we had the letter, we were on our way to Cherkasy where our children were waiting!

What we hoped for, but did not yet realize – we were one day away from meeting our forever children:
Olena, Lina and Vlady. Cherkasy is approximately 2-1/2 to 4 hours South of Kiev by car, depending on
weather, or how safely your driver can pass the multitude of slow-moving trucks and bicyclists on the
narrow, two-lane highway. It was a veritable obstacle course…as if the prospect of meeting our children for
the first time was not enough to fill my stomach with butterflies.

We drove past Cherkasy Children’s Home #1 that evening. We had dinner and tried to get some rest at our
hotel. The next day would be October 27. I think my impressions from my journal describe it best, “…a
rooster is crowing so it must be time to get up. It seemed to begin crowing at 7a.m. I have been awake
since nearly 6a.m. This is the second time I’ve felt cold in Ukraine, and both times have been indoors (the
first time was in the corridor of the Adoption Center)! I crouched in the shower this morning, hugging
myself for some warmth, because I was so terribly nervous and frozen. I was glad to get it over with so I
could stop shivering…I think today is the day we will meet our children.”

“The orphanage is nestled in a residential area, along the Dnipro River. You drive down a narrow, bumpy road with houses on both sides and then there is the orphanage. The buildings look new and there is
playground equipment, mostly monkey bars. It is sad to think they had to build such a place, but I am
thankful for it if our children are there, waiting for us…”

“…We have to dress up again today. We will go to the Cherkasy City Hall, to the Board of Education, and
to the Children’s home after that. My tummy does not feel so great this morning…so far I have eaten most
things because I have been so hungry…I think I am experiencing the most culture shock here. No matter
how much Ukrainian blood is flowing through my veins, Cherkasy seems like another universe…”

It was a mild October day; a soft carpet of fallen leaves covered the ground. When we arrived at the
orphanage, we walked through the iron gates, and through the doors of the orphanage for the first time –
my stomach was doing cartwheels. There was a group of small children walking with a caregiver to a play
area. Near the heavy front door, a cat was looking at us and purring cautiously. Just inside was a set of
stairs going up in opposite directions. We entered the director’s office and sat in front of her desk, not
facing her, but facing sideways – an arrangement that would become familiar in time. After meeting with
her, we walked to a bright, spacious room on the upper level. As we entered the room, I was more
emotional than I expected to be. We met three children, one of whom is now our oldest daughter, Olena,
the same girl we saw in a 3-year old black-and-white photo at the Adoption Center. We decided against
adopting the other two boys we met. It sounds unbelievable, but I fell in love with Olena instantly, though I knew little about her…as she played with toys, she always made sure she kept me in view. There was a minor problem, we desired a sibling group, and she had no siblings. Later that same day, we watched Olena practice for an autumn dance “recital”, where we spotted her future sister, Lina, and brother, Vlady. We fell for them just as hopelessly as we had Olena. John and I looked at each other later that evening, knowing that the idea of three children had been a “contingency plan”, in case, there was a sibling group of three, but we knew these children were our children now. There was no longer a problem – Olena would now have two siblings! It would certainly not be easy, but no other solution was possible – we felt we loved them already.

I later wrote: “Today I met my kids. I think that sentence says more than I could write in a book; MY KIDS – those have to be the two most beautiful words in the English language. MY KIDS…I will say it over and over again until I believe it myself…”

I can find no words to describe with any accuracy, that moment when my children entered my life forever. The caregivers brought Olena in first. I can still hear her footsteps as she came through the doorway of the
room where we were waiting, and without hesitating, hurled her slender body across the wooden floor and
into mine. She slammed into me so hard she knocked the wind right out of me, and then her body seemed
to melt into me and there are no more words to say after that, only tears. There she was, almost 4 feet tall, sweating in her red snow pants. No matter how heavy she felt or how much we both sweated, she kept her
soft, small cheek pressed tightly against mine and ran her fingers through my hair as if to make sure I was real. My two younger children, Lina and Vlady, entered my life in similar fashion. If I had had any doubt, their embraces dispelled it. I went back to our hotel that night dreaming of their sweet, happy faces.

From that day on, we visited our children daily, often twice a day for two more weeks. We spent hour
upon hour playing with them on the wooden floors of the orphanage. We ran and played with them outside
in the play yard, and began teaching them English. The days passed slowly, and I was beginning to get very homesick. We had experienced some nice autumn weather when we first arrived, but by now, winter was setting in.
Finally, we had our court date on November 12 and the days went by quickly again as we made preparations to return home to Michigan. It was a bitterly cold, snowy day in Kyiv when we finally
boarded the plane to Warsaw. A few days and a couple of Embassies later, we arrived home…in the wee hours of Thanksgiving morning…weary, jet-lagged, but relieved to be home at last. I know every Thanksgiving from now on will hold special meaning for our family. We have MUCH to be thankful for…we are a family at LAST!