Freak Out #1

I didn't post during my freak out because I was, well, freaked out. I cried leaving Aspen, driving over that tremendous pass, nothing but alpine tundra and huge sky and tiny mountain wild flowers. In fact, the crying was nothing new. I cry every time I leave Aspen, but this time was different. This time marked the end of a long string of very independent years of solo hikes and the freedom to wander and associate and explore as I please.

Now that I'm over my freak out, this fast-approaching launch into motherhood seems both welcome and manageable. But for a full 36 hours, I was in a state of shock, triggered with grief, saying goodbye to the me I've known all my life. Of course the Buddhists would say that the very concept of a "me" is itself an illusion, a fabrication, a story we create every day to give us a (false) sense of stable identity and permanence, and I know this is essentially true. Even so, I've grown quite fond of and attached to this particular illusory self of myself.

So I'm in the midst of a big letting go into motherhood, into a responsibility that, yes, will crimp the freedom I have known. And... a big letting go into a new stage of life and growth I couldn't possibly know any other way than by taking this plunge. My friend Sarah says motherhood is like jumping out of an airplane for the first time, 2000 feet in the air, standing on the lip of that open door, exhilarated and of course terrified. Or there's the metaphor of jumping off a cliff. Although, as my friend Anita reminds me often: There is no cliff. Only a next step, and a step after that, and maybe a jump, yes, and I jump and gravity coaxes me down, and I land, grounded, in a new place.

In the summer of 1987, I was 25 and had just finished my rookie year of teaching at Poly Prep in Brooklyn. I drove (solo) up to Troy, New York for a big Women's Studies conference. That's where I had a symbolic dream in which I leaped off a platform in outer space and found myself free-falling through the blackness of the universe. Talk about a letting go of identity! Of everything! Falling, frightened, falling. Then suddenly I remembered to breathe. Breathe, Lisa, remember simply to breathe. As I did, I was buoyed up. I floated, and I could feel an invisible force carrying me, akin to being cradled. I looked around and noticed the glitter of stars.

Meaning? Your guess is as good as mine. I've taken this to signify that I always have the means within me to right myself, to see myself through any situation. All it takes is some loosening up, some letting go and relinquishment, some faith and trust in the most natural of processes, like breathing, like change. In the flying dreams I've had since, it's always my breath, my relaxing into the moment, my acceptance of the unfamiliar, that's key to flight.

Inner resources aside, I count my blessings for the external support of friends, including my colleagues at school. During the 36-hour freak out --What in hell am I doing? A single mom: am I crazy? What have I gotten myself into? This feels like assigning myself to jail! I'll suffocate! I'll be annihilated! -- I posted on Facebook asking for a reality check. Here's a sampling of thoughtful, kind responses.

Lisa: Suddenly struck with tremendous mixed feelings about Mamahood and what I'm getting myself into--from happy anticipation to stabbing fear to grief over the loss of my independence. There are upsides, right? July 24 at 10:18pm

Kelly: Many, many upsides. As someone told me: you love your child, and then you get to fall in love with them too. July 24 at 10:27pm ·

Laura: The ambivalence is part of the process--for all parents. But yes, it's upside. You won't even remember what you did with that independence--or care. I promise. It won't be easy, but it will be worth it. ♥ July 24 at 10:43pm ·

David: Quite simply: it is worth it. And it is only a partial loss of some aspects of independence. Pack some extra stuff an bring him along! July 24 at 11:08pm ·

Candace: You got the motherhood thing right....and you'll be a great mom...but things will be different... And that's a good thing. July 25 at 1:20am ·

Carolyn: You'll grow. July 25 at 9:18am ·

Wendy: Not going to lie--there are things you'll always miss about independence but the love you'll have for your child (even when they're having tantrums and not sleeping, ever!;) will still outweigh those missed moments. July 25 at 9:54am ·

Linda: Parenthood involves many sacrifices, not just loss of independence, but also thwarted plans, lost days, and sleepless nights. My advice, if you were to ask, would be (1) keep your sense of humor primed. You'll need it! And (2) lower your standards in every dimension of your life. My motto became "alive at 25 and I've done my job!" July 25 at 9:04pm ·

Catherine: It's amazing how much you will learn and how much you already know. July 25 at 9:37am ·

Cara: Countless upsides. You'll fall in love and won't be able to imagine life without Daniil. With all its challenges, raising Scott is the best thing I've ever done. Lisa, you are going to be a fabulous Mom. In fact, you already are. All you have to do is be yourself. July 25 at 10:11pm ·

Court Date Issued Today

When: August 6
Where: Courthouse, Murmansk, Russia
Who: Lisa and Russian judge (+ wonderful Baba and translator)
What: Court proceedings to conclude adoption of Daniil
Wish: May love guide our every step...

Top of the World

It's hard to imagine a better day than this, spent on top of the world in more ways than one.

ll

I woke up to an email titled "Good news!!!" from Libby at my adoption agency. Three exclamation points, a splendid way to greet the day. (Daniil! Daniil! Daniil!)

l

Then I drove from Denver to Aspen to start my week-long vacation. I stopped at Independence Pass, elevation 12,095, and hiked for 3+ hours, gaining another good 1200 feet in elevation and taking in mountains upon mountains, ridges upon ridges, alpine wildflowers, and not another soul until the very end. Thank you, body constitution, for the capacity to adapt immediately to altitude, no headache, no nausea, no problems with heart rate or breathing.

Then, as if all of this weren't already more than enough, the other soul who passed me on my descent was a handsome man, another lone hiker, who asked if I wanted to join him in Snowmass next week to hear live old-timey music, the exact genre I study with my fiddle teacher Brittney. He's also going to loan me a pink bicycle--pink!--so I can pedal around Aspen to the library, the bookstore, the farmers market, the classical music tent.

l
A Russian boy, 13,000' vistas, a pink bike. What more could a girl ask for? A jackpot day, a breakthrough day. Stars aligned. Doors opened. I can't pretend to understand it, but am humbly grateful. May I be worthy of these gifts. And may these blessings serve not only me, but, through me, many, many others.

Paperwork Ended!

Judge #2 accepted all of my paperwork and she has requested the final child documents from the Russian Federation. Soon, I'd expect within a week or two, I should receive a date to go to court, have parental rights transferred to me, and then bring Daniil home.

l

I've emerged from the maze of red tape, unscathed, and am ready to start the hard, joyous work of motherhood. But let me rephrase that statement. These past three years, dealing with the governments and politics of Nepal and Russia surely qualify as a start, yes? A hard and trying start.

l

Now for the joyous part. My God, I'm going to be a Mommy to a living, breathing, feeling, thinking, rambunctious little boy who doesn't yet speak a word of English, but packs a tremendous presence. Take a moment to really take in this photo of Daniil in motion. That's my intense little son. Imagine that!

Striped Pants, Matching Suspenders

My fashionable boy, he's is fit for display on The Sartorialist. Striped pants with matching suspenders, and a crisp white hat to cap it off: Madison Avenue, watch out. (Do check out The Satorialist, if you're not already acquainted with this marvelous, frivolous fashion blog.)

l

The photo was taken on July 6, just last week, by Jane Barney, another adoptive mom who was visiting Apatity along with her husband to meet their 16-month-old daughter Dasha for the first time. Jane and I were put in touch by MAPS, the adoption agency we share in common. Jane got permission to take a few photos of Daniil to send to me and carried over on the plane a gift bag full of little presents from me for my boy: paper-bag puppets made by kids from my school, a musical Hallmark card featuring the Peanuts piano theme, a twisty Winnie-the-Pooh straw, a small album featuring photos of Daniil and Mamma (taken when we met in February), and 2 hot wheels cars. Jane says that the cars--surprise, surprise--were the biggest hit. Daniil is holding a red one in his right hand. In his left he carries the gift bag.

l

Daniil's growing. He's adorable. I want him here in my arms, and pulling Frieda's tail, and jumping on my big bed, and squealing through the sprinkler in the back yard. Judge #2 receives all of my paperwork in 2 days. Fingers crossed, heart open, that she rules with a sense of both compassion and justice. And godspeed...

Favorite Word So Far

If you pass my red Honda on Route 6 and wonder why I'm animatedly talking while riding all alone, likely I'm repeating Russian from a "Useful Russian for Adoption" CD. I'm falling in love with this Slavic language, so foreign to my Western tongue and set of ears.

I've got the basics down, enough hopefully, along with some creative body and sign language, to make it home with my boy. I'm your Mama, you're my son, do you need to pee?, do you want to play outside?, wash your hands and face, come with me, wait, sit down please, five minutes of quiet, do you want some milk? some juice? some carrots? some candy? how much? good boy!, give me your hand, good night, I love you, my little bunny, my little bear.

l

Some of the phrases included on the CD seem comically non-essential, but I enjoy learning them nonetheless. It's hard to imagine, for instance, just when I'll have occasion to ask Daniil or our translator: "Where's the duck?" I do look forward to exclaiming: "I see a bird!" In fact, along with solnysho (little sunshine), a common Russian term of endearment for a child, my new favorite word is pteetsa (bird). It sounds similar to petite in French with sa tacked on the end. Perfect for our little aerodynamic feathery friends.

Ya veeju pteetsa! I see a bird!

бабушка: Babushka

Babushka, strong emphasis on the opening syllable (BAH-boosh-kah), is the Russian word for grandmother. I've been wanting to write a small tribute to Daniil's baba, my Mom Judy, for a while now. Here's my chance.

First off, the above photo was shot by none other than Daniil himself. If you've viewed the video embedded in "Daniil's Voice" (May 28, 2010), you know that Daniil enjoyed messing around with my Mom's camera on the day we first met at the orphanage. This is one of the photos he snapped. Sophisticated (inadvertent) framing, huh?

My mom has been my #1 supporter through these 3 years of my adoption journey. (My dad's been right there too, but I'll save him for another time.) When I get down and demoralized, she helps me regain perspective; for those of you who haven't had the pleasure of meeting Judy, she's remarkably grounded and practical, and nearly unflappable when it comes to big things like an adoption emergency. When I get good news, she lets down her hair, figuratively speaking, and joins in celebration. She's taken it upon herself to drive back and forth to Connecticut and Fall River to get my documents apostilled in the most timely way. And she's insisted on travelling alongside me to Russia, where we've literally found our way together.

My mom had me at the tender age of 20. So she's still agile and youthful and up to the rigors of international travel. More importantly, she's alive to love and delight in her grandson. I worry, of course, about my own age and whether Daniil will still have a mom when he hits his 40s. With God's grace, my mind will hold up, as well as my body, for many decades to come. This late-to-come-to-motherhood sure gives me extra incentive to take the best possible care of myself. Step up the sleep and speed walking. Step down the heavy cream.

Back to Mom. My psychic friend says that she and Daniil are destined for a very special relationship. I didn't need Vittorio to tell me that: take a look at the two of them in the otherwise unremarkable video. Babushka and Daniil, nestled side by side, calmly enjoying their Barnum's animal crackers. They look like a couple of old pals, bonded from the first.

Я тебя люблю, мать. I love you, Mom.

USCIS Form I-600

I am holding in my hand my approved I-600 form, akin to a bar of gold.

l

The Department of Homeland Securty, through the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services (USCIS), has just granted me "favorable determination concerning application for advance processing of orphan petition." I first submitted an I-600A when I started the adoption process in Nepal. The approval, good for three years, expired in June, so I FedEx'ed off another application, a check for $650, along with $80 to accompany new fingerprints, and as of today the United States government will allow me to bring "an orphan" home.

l

An orphan no more, Daniil, moy solnyshko, as soon as the Russian government grants their okay as well.

l

The requested paperwork will be on Judge #2's desk by July 16th. I would expect to hear word--either the issuance of a court date (hurray!) or request for more documentation (boo, hiss!)--by the first of August, if not sooner.

Another Daniil

This time, a Russian pianist named Daniil Trifonov. He's just 19 and debuted at Carnegie Hall in May 2009.

Here's Trifonov playing a short, 3-minute piece called Afterthought by American jazz pianist and composer Chick Corea. It's atonal and keeps the ear alert and wondering what's coming next.

Click triangle, lower left corner.


Here Trifonov plays Scriabin’s Preludio op 9., 2.5 minutes long, lovely, harmonious and somewhat sad in its minor key. Note that this is played entirely with the left hand.



If I had my life to live again, and had the talent, I likely would dedicate myself to the peforming arts, music or dance. What better way to spend one's days than becoming masterful and exacting at beauty. What we focus on becomes our life. As much as I love and appreciate my job at school, and trust I make some kind of a positive difference, distraction rules my days. As a mentor once advised me: "The interruptions are the work." Hence the allure of single-minded focus, of knowing one thing intimately and in great depth--the world of classical music, say, or jazz, or ballet or modern dance.

I do want to be careful not to burden my Daniil with my own unfulfilled dreams or with too-high-achievement expectations. At the same time, I believe that all children, most adults too, thrive and come alive when challenged and taught the skills and habits to succeed, to really excel and "nail" something. I saw this with Daniil at the orphanage, the delight in his face and entire person when he threw the ball directly to me, when he counted to ten correctly, when we conquered some big steps together. I will ask a lot of my boy, and expect he will enjoy this. If not, it's off to some knowledgeable child psychologists to tell me what to do then!

Daniil and Mama

Thanks for pointing out a missing blog ingredient: photos of me and Daniil together, Mama and son, the soon-to-be dynamic duo giggling our way through toy stores, playgrounds, library children's rooms, seashores. Watch out!

~

Daniil wore the brown shirt on the first day we met, so three of these shots were taken about 1 hour into our surely destined acquaintance. By day three, he was hopping on my back to be galloped around the room. For our third meeting, his caretaker dressed Daniil in the cutest little plaid shirt and matching red vest with navy blue trim. Handsome lad.

Rugs and Other Distractions

My typical m.o.: I'm a do-er. I figure out how to make things happen. I ask for help when needed, take action and see results. I keep on the move to make things better, more beautiful, more meaningful.

p

So how odd, how enfeebling, to find myself so often impotent in the face of the Russian (and American too) bureaucracy. One way I've been giving myself psychological relief--when not playing fiddle tunes, dashing off to Cambridge, or eating vats of coffee ice cream--is by shopping for rugs for my boy's room. I've ordered and returned three already. If I keep up at this rate, I'll have been able to furnish the entire room with the money I've blown on return shipping. But, hey, it beats gambling or dropping cash on shoes. At least Daniil will be padding around on the eventually-settled-upon rug someday soon, God willing, and for many happy years to come.

p

It's down to these final two, one striped and oblong, the other a patterned circle.

1

p.s., a few days later: I'm going with the circle.

Reason May Reign...

fingers crossed.

New judge in Murmansk, purportedly another woman, has reviewed my paperwork and asked for a few additional documents that need to be submitted by July 16 for what hopefully will be a final review. Her requests seem level-headed, not driven by the suspicion exhibited by the prior judge who doubted that my accountant was really an accountant, that the town assessor was really an assessor, that my financial statements were bona fide financial statements.

I can and will do as the new judge asks, get documents signed and notarized by next Tuesday, then apostilled by the Secretary of State, then translated into Russian and--with the help of my amazing Mom, my adoption agency, almost every department at Town Hall, and ever-reliable FedEx--into her hands by the 16th. And pray that reasonableness reigns...