We are finally back safe from our first trip to Russia. We left last Saturday evening and returned last nite. Man oh man, what an 11-hour time zone difference does to the sleep-wake cycle! We were totally whipped, but it was worth every minute.

Taking in Moscow

When we left Saturday evening, we arrived in Moscow at 1pm Moscow time. Aerolot’s service was actually very good, though we were in business class since there were no more economy seats at the short notice we had. Once in Moscow, we had about 12 hours to wait around until the 12:50 AM flight to Perm, Russia, so we hired our agency’s Moscow driver, Valentine, to pick us up and take us to his apartment to crash for a while. Valentine came a bit late (he did not know we flew business class and were first off the plane and thru passport control) so we were a bit edgy wondering what was going on, and we had to fend off some pushy cab drivers. We enjoyed Valentine’s company on the long ride to his place.

Real estate in Moscow is insane, second in price only to Tokyo supposedly. Valentine’s neighborhood well on the outskirts featured many dilapidated high-rise apartment buildings. Seriously folks, it was an amazing sight to see well-groomed, well-dressed, and put-together citizens emerge from buildings we Americans would associate with the worst sociobehavioral pathologies of rotting urban cores. He took us to a pretty new sparkling western-like mall and we ate at Sbarro’s in their food court. He fixed up his one-room apartment with a mini kitchen and a shower stall so he did not have to share with two adjacent neighbors. His place was cheery and a godsend as we collapsed into the only sleep we would end up getting before we met the Ministry of Education lady and then little Egor (pronounced yeh-GOHR).

Checking out Perm

The Aeroflot flight to Perm was on an old Soviet-era jetliner whose paint had worn through in places on the rear of the fuselage. I think they were duct-taping the wings as the shuttle bus arrived at the plane.  The seatbelts did not tighten and dangled loose on our laps, safety instructions were brief and blase. I’ll give the Russians tremendous credit for keeping it real.

Our agency’s driver/translator team, Arthur and Dina, met us at the little airport in Perm. That a city of 1 million people would have an airport that small with only four flights a day coming in and out spoke volumes about how much Russians can afford air travel. Arthur and Dina were absolutely fantastic. Arthur is a veterinarian by training who is taking law school classes. He is tall and taciturn, and seemed to understand far more of what was being said in English than he let on. Dina is an English teacher, and was very congenial. They took us to the “Tourist Hotel,” the cheapest of the three hotels in the city that had much in the way of English speakers and the kind of services and cleanliness Westerners would come to expect from a Holiday Inn or something.

We freshened up before our 9:30 Monday meeting with the Ministry of Education lady who oversaw foreign adoptions in that region. We were too wired to sleep. The room was a nice 2-room suite and we liked it a lot. The Ministry of Education lady was in a hurry, but she had us sign a couple things to allow us to see little Egor. Both she and her assistant were very nice. We then went to the closest orphanage in the system, in a neighborhood called Zakamsk, named after proximity to the Kama river along which the city of Perm stretches.

Meeting little "Egor"

The orphanage people sat us in a nice room with plenty of toys and asked if we wanted to see the boy first or get his medical history first. Jim stated in his very broken Russian (thank you CD-Rom language software) that he would like to see the boy first. Evgeny, the main doctor and director of the orphanage was surprised to hear the request from an American in Russian, so he asked Jim to repeat it. A few minutes later, a staffer brought in 7-month old Egor Ivanovich Kazymov. He was all smiles with chubby cheeks and bright, inquisitive blue eyes. He was grabbing everything in sight, including Lori’s hair and Jim’s necktie.

We were smitten. We played with him at length until the orphanage doctor came in. While Jim played with the tot on his lap (mostly jumping up and down with his chubby legs), the doctor read his chart to our translator, who translated as Lori took notes. The litany of health problems the doctor methodically recited was absolutely devastating to hear. Most scary of all was that Egor had a positive Hepatitis B result in the past and at last exam had an enlarged liver. In addition, he also had/has a hole in his heart between his atria, but his EKG’s were normal and there was no evidence of blood improperly sloshing around in his heart.

We told the orphanage that we were going to bring Dr. Elizabeth Galkina, a Moscow pediatrician in on Wed to examine him and to review his chart to get us a big picture. Evgeny was apparently as proud as he is boisterous, and bristled at the idea of bringing in an outsider doctor. Fortunately, Arthur our driver/facilitator, is real tight with the ministry lady (Evgeny’s boss), who was able to order the orphanage director to let us have him evaluated. In the meantime, we resigned ourselves to asking the Ministry if we could look at the other baby boy they located for us. Fortunately, the Ministry acted fast to get us permission to go to a different orphanage in the city of Kungur (pronounced Koong-GOOR) by the next morning.

Meeting "Alexander"- Plan B

The trip to see “Alexander” in Kungur on Tuesday AM was reminiscent of road trips to northern Minnesota, with rolling hills, some farms, and a healthy mix of both deciduous and coniferous trees. It took 90 minutes to get there. We could tell right away that this orphanage was more laid back. We waited in a somewhat more Spartan office for a staffer to bring in Alexander. Alexander was smaller (only 5 months old) and a little funny looking. He seemed to be fairly robust for his size and smiled at the familiar doctor. Same drill as with Egor. Jim held him and played with him as Dr. “Olga” read thru his chart to the translator. Instead of jumping up and down and smiling, however, Alexander projectile-vomited on Jim’s tie.

In all, it seemed to us that Alexander had fewer health issues than did Egor. We then took him all around the grounds. We were allowed to see everything at the Kungur orphanage. It was rough emotionally to see all the toddlers at play in the playgrounds, knowing that they were all unwanted. They were so cute, especially the little girls in their scarves. They were allowed to open the gate hook and let themselves out of the play areas, and one little girl with wide-set fetal alcohol eyes saw Jim walking around and let herself out to see him. Jim held out his left and right index fingers as she approached and she grasped each one and started jumping up and down. Jim danced with her for several moments until the caregiver lady came to retrieve her. We will always remember her and all the others. May God have mercy on them.

Interestingly, the girl and several other toddlers smiled at us and took more interest in us than the little baby boy we came to see. Alexander smiled and engaged the doctors, but was completely ambivalent to us. We then saw his play room and crib room. They were cheerfully decorated. People have this stereotype of the Russian orphanage as this barren cinderblock squalor, but we can assert that that was certainly not the case at either orphanage we visited. That the caregiver ladies cared for the children was very evident. We figured after getting the initial low-down on both boys that we would have Dr Galkina check out Alexander first to see if he was as healthy as his chart indicated. Both boys were full-term with normal 6+ lb birthweights, so it was a tough dilemma.

We prayed very hard that night for some guidance, and did not get much sleep. Why was it that the engaging boy was so very sick while the ambivalent one with whom we did not really “click” was seemingly better?

(Web note:  When I say we prayed hard-- I mean REALLY hard.  Desperately hard.  How often in human history do parents ever have to CHOOSE a CHILD from among several alternatives?!!  This choice would define the rest of our lives!  Our plea was that the answer would be made clear to us.)

Is there a doctor in the house? 

We met Dr Galkina in the hotel the next morning. Arthur had picked her up the night before. Like the majority of younger Russian women, she was slender and attractive. She could wear a mini-skirt and make it work!  (She was hot-to-Trotsky)  Russian people in general made us realize how much weight we could stand to lose.  Dr. G studied pediatric immunology in Paris among her training, and we figured the exposure to Western medicine would be a key perspective. We went back east to Kungur and Dr G and Dr. Olga and then examined him. We then took Alexander around the grounds again as Olga went over Alexander’s chart with Dr. G.

Same story as the previous day. We’d be in Alexander’s face showering him with attention, and he basically blew us off. Several curious toddlers smiled as they marched singly by to their room after playtime. After what seemed like an eternity of writing up her report, Dr G was done and gave us the skinny on Alexander. She explained that his facial features and cardiac sounds/functioning were characteristic of a mild degree of fetal alcohol syndrome, and that the symptoms described about him at his birth were consistent with mild drug withdrawal. Somehow, the mother’s drug-positive status at birth should have automatically flagged her with the State as a drug abuser, and this would have been in her record and in the child’s record. Moreover, it turned out Alexander was positive for Hepatitis C!  This is the grave variant with the potential for serious liver damage. Dr G concluded that unlike the majority of children she comes out to review and examine, she was compelled to recommend against us or anyone adopting him until his trajectory became more clear.

Ironically, this was liberating. We felt we could emotionally close the door on Alexander. We had been fighting a losing battle trying to maintain enthusiasm at the thought of adding him to our family. Fortunately, there was still time for Dr. G to see Egor back in the outskirts of Perm before her flight left. On the way out to Kungur, we chatted with Dr. G about Egor, and got the sense from her that his issues were actually not that severe, therefore it seemed like the prudent thing to do to have a second opinion on him too.

We could not have imagined how prudent indeed. Egor was as engaging the second go-round as he was the first. Dr G. quickly commented that he looked too robust to be an institutionalized baby. He was in the middle of all the normal (non-institutionalized) growth charts. Knowing that the liver was his main issue, she spent a long time palpating his abdomen and concluded that his liver was NOT enlarged! Egor did his gymnastics and his hair pulling galore as Dr G was read his chart by the orphanage Dr.

Dr. G concluded that little Egor DID acquire Hepatitis B while in the hospital waiting for room in an orphanage to open up. However, he had received the first of the Hep B vaccines at birth, and was able to stave off a severe infection.  His development of the disease she said was almost like having received a full inoculation from the Hep series. Moreover, she assured us that Hep B is very treatable with antiviral meds, and described a colleague who went on to have a healthy life and sire a healthy family after a bout with Hep B far worse than little Egor endured.

At this point little Egor is healthy, with some traces of elevated liver enzymes likely to remain for a year or so. She seemed very enthusiastic about him. After the trip to see Egor again, we had a nice dinner the four of us: Lori, Jim, Dr G, and Arthur at a place in Perm near our hotel that served a good chicken tortilla, and was part Baskin-Robbins. It was a great place to decompress and process the delightful news that this charming boy Egor was not doomed to a liver transplant and death. Moreover, the hole in his heart will almost certainly be sealed off as part of normal development. Yes, the Russian orphanage doctor was forthright and read down his chart with complete honesty, but that still does not mean that we were getting any big-picture perspective or long-term prognosis. Dr. G cleared it all up for us, and it was the best money we have ever spent.

The path made clear, we chilled for the rest of the week

We were thus able to enjoy Thursday and Friday knowing we had found our little boy, and we visited him each of those days. We wheeled him up and down the block by the orphanage in a stroller. We celebrated how two different Russian couples passed him by due to his Hep B and a raging bout of syphilis (since cured). Their loss is our tremendous gain!!!! We learned that no child can be adopted out of Russia until two Russian couples have rejected that child. Fortunately for us Yanks, the Russian adoptive parents who get first dibs expect perfection.

We signed paperwork to the Ministry on Friday stating that we are preparing to adopt him. It was a tiresome but unforgettable trip.

Even more paperwork

Now comes part B: the court date trip. As fate would have it, Perm has one of the meanest, most stickler adoption judges in all of Russia. This woman is past retirement age, and in fact is formally retired, yet she remains in her role-- probably to torment foreigners trying to abscond with Russia’s children.  We have to have all new recent police clearances, HIV tests, EIGHT DIFFERENT doctors sign off on our health, financial statements, etc.  The Ministry of Education adoptions coordinator, Galina, even thought this judge was on overkill wanting eight different Doctors’ signatures. When Jim explained that he works with several doctor friends who would sign off, Galina quipped that we would be solving this “the Russian way”. We had a great laugh.

Judgezilla will not even grant us a court date until she has all this new information, so we will be scrambling tomorrow and Tuesday to get the ball rolling for this. We hope we can stand before Judgezilla as early as late August. By Russian law, foreigners granted custody of a Russian child must wiat 10 days in the city before taking the child. The judges of most districts routinely waive this waiting period for the sake of getting the child into a real family ASAP. Judgezilla, however, seldom waives the wait. However, since Igor has a history of a severe infectious disease, the orphanage director consented to write a letter to a judge asking for a waiver of the waiting period on medical grounds so that Egor can be seen ASAP by a pediatric immunologist in the U.S.

For our part, we are lining up a pediatrician here who will write us a letter for the court stating that Egor will be seen immediately and his condition evaluated and monitored. We will be crossing our fingers and toes that Judgezilla will waive the wait. It will be 21 days out of the country next time if she does not waive it. So as of now, we are conducting Operation Egor to get this cherubic little boy here in the States as soon as possible. Thank you for all your prayers, support, and best wishes!

Jim and Lori

P.S. We are probably going to re-name him Matthew Yegor Bjork. The name "EEE-gor" will have to take a back seat so this little boy has a chance of scoring a prom date.

It was love at first sight!

I didn't have long hair to grab, but my tie worked nicely!

Note the construction.  Instead of just hiring some guy with a wrecking ball to demolish the concrete entrance overhang in minutes, a large crew of men spent all week chipping away at it inch by inch with jackhammers and sledges.

On the 5th floor was a little cafe where we could redeem the daily meal tickets (that came with our room rental) for breakfast staples, candy, tea, and the like.  Their breakfast menu had English translations that we could point to, but I just got used to coming in each morning and asking for "Glazuneeya," or fried eggs.

After a stressful week, we are relieved to have a plan in sight.  Egor had some kind of infection behind his ear, which the Russians treated with some kind of emerald-colored mystery goop.

This is where we met "Galina," the official in charge of placement of orphans in the Perm region.  She authorized our interaction with potential adoptees.  The imposing structure (note the hammer and sickle) belies the warm-hearted touch and love of children that softened the edges of her businesslike demeanor.  We suspect that when her office gets dossiers of foreign would-be adoptive patents, that they use the photos of us to match us up with similar-looking children.  Not only did Matthew look like he could be our biological child, but one day at the Zakamsk orphanage we noticed a Spanish couple with Mediterranean features doting on a tot with thick wavy black hair!  Pretty shrewd, I'd say.

Dina explained that this was given by the Soviet regime to honor the city for being an exemplar to all the Motherland, and towing the "party line."  While I think Soviet Communism was perhaps the darkest stain in the fabric of human history, gawking at the iconography of that era was a guilty pleasure.  I loved to query our in-country guides about how they felt about the political changes in Russia since the collapse of the Soviet Union.  

"In the end we beat them with Levi 501 jeans. Seventy-two years of Communist indoctrination and propaganda was drowned out by a three-ounce Sony Walkman. A huge totalitarian system has been brought to its knees because nobody wants to wear Bulgarian shoes. Now they're lunch, and we're number one on the planet."
-P.J. O'Rourke

Instead of exultations over new-found freedoms and availability of Western goodies, I sensed from our native guides a strong nostalgia for a time when the state took care of everyone's needs.  Economic "freedom" means little to people who spend their working years trapped in a state run by criminal oligarchs, and who see an uncertain future in their elder years when they can no longer work.

Later in the week, once we decided Egor (Matthew) was the boy for us, Dina and Arthur took us just outside the city of Perm to a restored 17th Century village, complete with an Eastern Orthodox church (in which we are posing here), a mill, blacksmith, stable, and several cottages.  It was SWELTERING that day.  Unusually hot for this area. 

The older fellow who took our tickets to get into the site seemed excited to see us, and smiled and gave us a warm "Hello!"  Aside from our guides, he was the only Russian I recall who ever took the initiative to speak to us in English this entire trip.  Most Russians just looked at me funny when I would try to communicate with a combination of my skeletal Russian (fuggedabout the 6 cases/tenses) and gestures.  Jake will never let me live down how I tried to ask an elderly clerk in a Perm drugstore where I could find baby butt wipes...  I guess as an American, I'm used to a melting pot culture, where people often need to make accomodations to get an idea across to someone with a different native language.  Alas, here....