Clinic Doctor

This event occurred on March 30th.
I forgot to mention in the previous post that as we stood in front of the orphanage, we noticed a stork's nest on a decorative finial on the highest peak of the house.  It was a beautiful symbol to us.
We returned to the hotel to our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, bottled water (hot tea for Beth) and my stash of M&Ms.  I sent the videos Beth took to the international doctor back in St. Louis to review along with a short description of what I noticed, the child's behavior and questions.

That night I prayed that this was the child for me, the medical reports would come back manageable and she would warm up to me during the afternoon visit.  The next morning I felt sick to my stomach as I read the St. Louis doctor's report on the videos I sent. She noticed several large issues with the movements, milestones and cognitive reactions and stated this 22 mo. old girl was more at a 7 mo. old level.  My heart fell and with a lump in my throat we went to breakfast where Beth tried to cheer me up and to stay positive until we talk to the clinic doctor that morning.  As usual, we were on time (be ready "sharp") waiting for Natasha #1 and Sash to pick us up and they were 10 minutes late again.  We drove across the city to the clinic with Natasha telling us all about the buildings and historical facts.  When she wasn't answering our questions, she was "rapid fire", non-stop talking to Sasha in Russian and we were convinced she didn't breathe for a full 10 minutes as she talked....made us laugh.

We arrived at the city clinic where the orphanage children are seen twice a year for routine checkups.  My little girl spent the first 11 months of her life in the hospital before being moved to the orphanage, so they had thorough records and good tracking points for development.  We were seated in the clinic director's office which had hard vinyl flooring, one small window, dirty plaster walls in need of paint and a dim light overhead.  It was clean, it just looked like something you would see on TV from the 1920s in a poor facility.  A stout dark haired woman, about 55-60 yrs. old greeted us unsmiling through thick eye glasses.  She and the translator took turns telling us about the little girl's history, family, past and present medical conditions and future outcome.  The first few sentences was information that I already knew, but my heart stopped as she continued to describe her situation.  My fears were coming true with each word she uttered.

To summarize, this child is from a "social family"  which Russia describes as families that are poor, undesirable, drink alot, and make poor life decisions.  The birthmother was "like a child herself" as were all the other four siblings. Defined later, they are all mentally retarded (sorry to be not politically correct, I don't know the correct term), the siblings have all been in special schools, therapy and now live in special adult homes, never being able to live independently.  The child is severely delayed (the 7 mo. diagnosis was correct), would need constant intense therapy her whole life, would have severe motor skill issues and cognitive issues and would never be able to live independently.  My throat was aching as I fought to hold back the tears. The doctor said repeatedly that she did not feel, being a single mother, that I would be able to handle this child.  She also said that the judge may not award the child to me, because I was single, and they may feel that it would be too much for me.  The doctor spoke kindly and warmly now, seeing how upset I was, disappointed and a little devastated actually.  We thanked her and made our way to the parking lot.

Sasha and the two Natashas went to the side to talk.  I knew the answer but needed to hear it said out loud, as I asked Beth what she thought. She told me that it would next to impossible for me to handle by myself, that this is not what I want and she knew that I felt bad about it.  I was shaking and started to cry as Beth gave me a hug and Natasha #1 rushed over to me.  I said brokenly that I could not accept this child and started crying again. I felt so incredibly sad and for some reason, guiltly.  Even though I knew the truth, I somehow felt that by declining her, I was saying I didn't want her because she was broken.  It was such a strange and emotionaly moment, almost like you weren't even talking about a child but more like an object.  Both Natashas and Sasha talked to me, telling me that it was alright if I declined this child and not to feel bad. They had been distant and business like up until now, but as they each hugged me to console me, that barrier was broken.  They were so supportive and understanding which made me cry even more.  This was such an emotional trip and experience! They told me that my child was out there, waiting for me to find them, and that this child just wasn't the right one. They told me that this child's parents are out there to and will find her and take her home. They believe so much in fate and destiny and I needed that reassurance at that moment, whether I believed it or not, and I'm still not sure what I believe. I do believe that God has a plan for me and that this happened for a reason and that MY child is yet to come to me.

So I formally sign the declining document and Natasha #2 "goes to work" to see if there is a second child referral available for me to see while I am there.  Beth and I head to the pizza place again, eat the same thing (because we knew it was safe to eat) while we wait to be taken back to the hotel.  We walked around the neighborhood by the hotel, up to a park, and took in the culture and area while we discussed what happened and how I felt.  It was such a God send to have Beth with me, I don't know how I would have handled all that emotion by myself. Thanks again Beth, for leaving your own family for 8 days, for being there for me, and for being a great sister....love you!
~Amy