Ours.

Anticipation fills our hearts and minds as we wait for this day to begin. Sadie and I lie in our beds at 2 a.m., unable to sleep as thoughts run through our minds. After an hour of tossing and turning, we finally crawl out of our hotel beds and turn on the lights.

This is the day that we've waited for since late January this year.

Will Hazel remember me? Will she be happy about leaving the only place she has ever known? Will her caregivers be sad? Will the children in her little "family" wonder where she has gone?

After listening to a little Taylor Swift from Sadie's iPod headphones, we turn on the TV to catch up on the sad news back home in The States. Every time we see the faces of those children who lost their lives in such a horrific, senseless way, we can only think of our two first-graders back home and weep. It's just too painful to even go where these families are with my mind. They have no choice, though. All I can do is pray for them.

I can't help but feel guilty about getting ready to celebrate our miracle here in Russia while this community in Connecticut is enveloped in so much pain.  But, the timing is what it is. A little girl in Novosibirsk, Russia is about to experience freedom and love for her first time. God would only want us to feel joy this week. To focus on goodness.

We wait for 7:00 am to finally roll around so we can go downstairs and eat breakfast from the hotel buffet. The food tastes wonderful. We fill our bellies full.

After breakfast, Sadie chooses Hazel's clothes for the day. The temperature is near forty below zero. We know Hazel's clothes will be hidden by winter gear anyway, but we smile as we set out her clothes, imagining her in them.

At 9:30, our coordinator arrives to pick us up. We are expected to arrive at the orphanage between 11 and 12, but before we do that, we need to pick up Hazel's passport  (which was kindly expedited by the passport agency who put us through torture last month. The passport is ready in one day, instead of 3, like it normally takes.) After getting the passport, we head to the bank to exchange money, then to a store to purchase gifts for some of the people who helped us with the adoption process here in Novo: The Head Doctor at the baby home, the social worker who took care of our case, and the woman at the Ministry of Education who helped with our referral. A beautiful fruit-covered cake is purchased for Hazel's nannies to enjoy together.

Before we know it, the morning has flown by. It's time to go get our girl! The van crunches through the snow that leads to the door of the orphanage. Before heading to Hazel's groupa, we stop at the head director's office to talk about things and make sure we have all of our questions answered. The only one I can think of is, "What time does she nap and go to bed at night?" Many of my questions were answered on our previous trips.

The head doctor is also the director of the baby home. She is a kind, gentle woman. I ask her for a picture, so we can always remember her. She smiles at Sadie and asks her what she thinks of this cold place. She tells us that she's very grateful for our donation, and explains that they will use it to buy new radiators for some of the rooms that are cold. Her final words to me: "You will need to be very patient with Varvara. She's very strong-willed and has a mind of her own."

Uh oh. :)

The time finally arrives. We walk through the sterile hallways, smelling the soup that is being served for lunch. We enter the foyer to Hazel's groupa and hear nothing but the sound of spoons clanking against bowls. We would have never guessed there were ten 2 to 3 year old children on the other side of the door. The Head Doctor asks us to wait while Hazel finishes her lunch. They don't want us to go inside as it will disrupt the order. I want more than anything to step in and take a picture of our daughter's last meal with the children she has lived with the first four years of her life. But we just wait. I photograph the foyer instead.

The place where Hazel's coat and snow gear hang

and the bikes that they take outside when the sidewalks are free of snow.

Before we know it, our little princess pokes her head through the door. She walks toward me and lifts her arms up.

She remembers.

Sadie exclaims, "Oh my gosh, she's adorable! She's so little!" She grabs her new sister and hugs her tightly. Such a sweet moment that we'll always remember.

Realizing that we have no pictures of our sweet coordinator, Anna, I ask her for a quick photo before we change Hazel into her new clothes.

One of Hazel's caregivers sits down and asks us for her clothes. I scramble to take all of the clothes out of Sadie's backpack. She dresses her in her many layers: underwear, undershirt, tights, socks, pants, and long-sleeve shirt. She asks if we have a sweater to add. I stumble.."uh, back at the hotel." Woops. Not quite enough layers for Eastern European standards. I'm pretty sure the snowsuit and coat will suffice, though.

As soon as we finish squeezing Hazel's feet into her boots, her caregiver says, "Paka Paka," then asks her to go in and say goodbye to her friends. Tears spring to my eyes as I look through the cracked open door, one of the little orphans walking up to her to give her a hug. Another of her friends will soon have a mommy, I'm relieved to know this, but oh, the anguish of leaving the others behind. Their faces will remain in my mind until I die. There is so little hope for their adoption. The government here is trying to pass a bill that will ban adoptions from the US. What will happen if this passes? Many children will remain orphans forever. Americans are for the most part, the only people who will adopt the chilren who are different. Almost all of the ones with special needs will be locked away in institutions the rest of their lives. Many of the typical children will leave the system at 18, then succumb to prostitution, homelessness and drug use. How can this possibly be better than families...foreign or not? It makes no sense to me. I pray that attitudes will change somehow, and that something will change to reduce the number of children who are orphaned in the first place.

We head out the door with our bundled ball of cuteness. No fanfare from the staff, no tears. Just a few Paka's here and there. This makes me sad. I guess I was expecting them to give her hugs and tell her they'll miss her.

Well, from here on out, things are going to be different for this one. She is about to learn what it's like to be cherished. She now matters.

After a drive to a photo processing store to have her picture taken for her US Visa, the driver takes us to our hotel. By this time, Hazel is very ready to get out of her seatbelt. Being restrained in a car is a brand new experience. One that will likely take some time getting used to.

We enter our tiny hotel room, realizing this will be our home for the next 24 hours. At first, Hazel is hyper and seems a little confused. It's past her nap time, which doesn't help. The housekeeping ladies bring in a portable crib, and instead of lying down in it, she throws the bedding out, then repeatedly falls on her bum and giggles. This will be Hazel's first day in her life without a nap. :) We'll let it slide.

For two hours, Sadie holds down the fort while I meet with Anna in the hotel lobby to fill out Embassy paperwork, then work on buying Hazel's plane ticket for Moscow. By the time I get back to the room, she's lying on Sadie's lap, nearly asleep. The snooze only lasts for about 10 minutes, though. Things are different. It's hard to relax.

She walks to the bathtub and tries to climb inside. Alright! Time for a bath!

For the first time in her life, Hazel climbs into a bathtub filled with warm water. Up until this point, she has been bathed with a wet washcloth. Curiously, she stares as the water falls into the tub. As she helps me take off her clothes, she looks with anticipation, wide-eyed and excited. I help her into the tub.

I think she likes it. What do you think? 

 "What, Mom? You say I have to get out?"

And now... for the photo you've all been waiting for. OK, maybe it's just weird 'ol me, but my favorite "Gotcha Day" photos from adopting families are always the ones where they are fresh out of the bathtub, all snuggly in their new jammies. To me, it symbolizes a baptism of sorts. A new beginning.

Hazel's favorite toy so far: a hairbrush. She spent most of the evening brusing hair.Hers, Sadie's and mine. I get the feeling she's never had the opportunity to brush hair. She absolutely loves it.

I brought a portable DVD player and a bunch of Baby Einstein and Signing Times videos. This was a good move. I think it may save us on our plane rides.

Well, that's it for Gotcha Day. It's 3:00 am here. I was so exhausted at 9 pm, I thought for sure I'd sleep through the night. Not so lucky. But Hazel and Sadie are sleeping blissfully. I think I'll go back to the room and try to fall asleep again, so that I have enough energy for the day ahead. We fly to Moscow at 7 pm. We'll land there 4.5 hours later and will have Hazel's Embassy doctor's exam as soon as we check into our hotel. This should be very interesting. Wish us luck!

I'm feeling very grateful that things have gone smoothly so far. I was worried that the passport would take too long and throw off our schedule. But as of now, it's looking like we'll be flying home on the 22nd, as planned.

Thank you for your prayers and well wishes. We can feel them. They mean more than anything! Please leave a comment if you stopped by! We LOVE reading them. They are really helping sustain us through this whole experience.

Good night, or morning, or whatever it is!