Glancing at the calendar, I notice that it is 11 years ago that we had traveled to Ukraine.
It almost seems a lifetime ago, but in reality it was not. I still have memories of our lives before we adopted a child. We were together for almost 15 years, before we began a family. We had met very young and married young, especially in relation to most of our friends and family. We spent years working different schedules so I spent many hours alone, doing whatever I wanted, without much responsibility except to work, keep up the house and bills, and take care of our dogs. We traveled extensively, and did not worry about getting a sitter, on a Friday or Saturday night. Date nights were any and every night we wanted. No worries or commitments to anyone except the two of us.
Then on a cold, November day, in 2000, in Ternopil Ukraine, we started a family.
Definitely, not the traditional way, as our delivery date was after a long noisy train ride wearing the same dirty clothes, and after playing cards and drinking a few beers, the night before.
We met Vitaly a sad, scared, starving baby who weighed 11 pounds and was 15 months old. We were just as scared of becoming a parent, as he was of becoming a son. How does one prepare to go from 15 years childless to suddenly a parent?
The memory that remains most vivid was when we finally were able to leave the orphanage with him permanently. As we crowded into an old taxi, with our new son in hand, my husband looked at him and me and kissed us both. A sudden feeling of completion and true love. The two of us were now a family, of three.
