Nov 7: The Appointment

We didn’t sleep much the night before. Imagine lying in a bed that’s not your own, in an apartment that’s not your own, in a time zone that’s not your own. And if that’s not enough, imagine lying there, knowing that VERY soon, you’ll be seeing a picture of a little boy – your very own son – for the first time. It’s hard to describe what we were feeling. I can give you a million colorful adjectives, but they would still fall short of telling the whole story.

Just before going to meet up with Sveta & Luda that morning (our 2 facilitators), we sat down and prayed together. We went downstairs and made the short walk to the SDA. The sidewalks were uneven and wet from the rain and snow, yet we were walking at a swift pace. I was so glad I had chosen to wear flats instead of heels. Most of the women wear very high heels, yet they are very skilled in successfully maneuvering around cracks and holes in the pavement.

We arrived about 10 minutes before our appointment time, and stayed outside in the courtyard area. Finally, we walked in and waited in the stairwell. Soon, a young woman named Julia (the translator) called us and we made our way up the stairs. We were very fortunate in that this was one of those times when facilitators were allowed to sit in the appointment, so Luda went with us. We were taken into Room 14, where one of the psychologists sat stern-faced behind a desk.

After brief introductions and the reminder that “there are no healthy children available for adoption”, she began showing us the profiles of different children. The boys we saw ranged in age from 2 to 7. We begin looking at each of the 6 profiles presented to us. And while they were all precious, I didn’t feel “that feeling”. I’m sure many of you know what I’m talking about – the one that says “Here is your son”. Looking at Zack’s face, I knew he was experiencing the same thing. Finally, the psychologist handed us one last profile. As I looked down at it, tears filled my eyes.

The little boy had wispy blond hair and beautiful eyes. Unlike the other pictures we’d seen, his was perfectly focused and he had a pleasant expression. It looked like a fairly recent picture. I looked to Zack, and without a word, we both knew what had just happened. We’d found our son.

We pretended to look back over all the files that had been given to us, and then announced that we would like to pursue the 5-year-old boy in Mariupol. And that was the end our 40-minute SDA appointment.