So Far So Good

Yesterday morning started with an all too brief trip to see Elle. Another family was using the visitation room, so we spent most of our time in the hall because the other available room was too cold. In Russia public buildings are centrally heated and the government turns off the heat in late April or early May. However, no one told the weather it was time to warm up. It is not terribly cold, but in a concrete building with no heat, it does get pretty chilly pretty quick. Elle, however, did not seem to mind. She was bundled from head to toe and ready to cuddle. It amazed me how she clung so very tightly to me. She quickly fell asleep as I held her. I remember Emma doing the same when I came to see her and feeling such a love for her.

Before too long, I had we had to leave. The head doctor of the hospital came with Oksana and myself back to the hotel. They drank coffee while I changed for court. We all then went to pick up the social worker for court. When we arrived, we were met by the idependant translator who would be translating the court proceedings.

We waited what seemed like forever, probably ten minutes, and then filed into the room where the court proceedings would take place. Oksana, had to wait outside the room.

The prosecuter (sometimes mispronouced by Russians as the persecuter -- not confidence inspiring) came into the room. She appeared to be about 12 years old -- gosh I am getting old. she was about five foot six, thin as a rail, tired blond hair, wearing an outfit that was either designed in the eighties or was some sort of uniform with padded sholders and gold stars. On the other side of the room sat the secretary -- or court reporter -- complete with scratch paper and a pen. There were computer monitors in the room, but they were never turned on.

At the front of the room, sat THE JUDGE. She was probably early forties, long black hair pulled back except for wisps that had escaped as a part of a hard day, little or no makeup, a little on the heavy side, and of course wearing a black robe.

This woman some how mastered the ability to remove all expression from her face, all warmth from her eyes, and all inflection from her voice. She grilled me for the better part of an hour. Why did I want to adopt again, why this girl, what if I got married, what if my husband did not like my children, what if I had biological children, what if, what if, what if . . . .

I did my best to explain to the judge that, in my heart, Elle was already my daughter -- that I would never chose a suitor over my children -- that I knew the first time I held Elle that she was my daughter. Finally the judge wanted to know what my bad habits were -- well hmmm I rarely drink, don't smoke, don't do drugs, don't gamble -- I told her quite truthfully that I eat too much chocolate, but otherwise was pretty boring. Finally, the barest hint of a smile which disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

The judge went through every single on of my documents aloud. She made quite a point to check the dates on my medical report. "April 3, 2009" HMMMM My mind raced -- they are only good for three months -- they expired on the 3rd -- oh no oh no oh no -- but wait they expire on July 3rd. Ok as soon as I can find someplace to throw up, I think I my live.

After chewing on the social worker, and questioning the doctor, and asking me on no fewer than four occasions if I still supported my petition -- the judge kicked us out of the room to deliberate.

While waiting out in the hall, the doctor told me that I had answered questions better than any parent she had seen. The interpreter gave me a piece of candy -- not chocolate -- but she thought I deserved something. Finally the judge called us back in.

With great slowness and deliberation, she read the decision. When she finally read the part where I get Elle, much to my surprise, my eyes welled up and tears started to fall.

For the first time, the hardness left the judge's face. She told me congratulations.

The doctor's husband picked her up, we took the social worker home, and Oksana dropped me off at the hotel. I spent the next fourteen hours awake, asleep, obsessing. worrying. anxious, and over all a real joy to be around.

We are one step closer, but as with Emma, I won't truely breathe until the flight home takes off.