After my Last Visit with Maximilian and Philip

The good-bye was a very emotional one. They were crying, and so was I. It may sound cruel to say that you like when children cry--but must admit that, amidst my own tears, deep inside me I was so happy to see that they were crying for me. They wanted me, they needed me, they didn't want their mommy to have to go away--even if they know I will be back and it'll be forever. Maximilian started crying first--from the moment the social worker began explaining to him that we were on my last visit, and that I'd be going back home so as to do all the necessary paperwork that was still missing. Initially, instead of crying Philip would concentrate his energy in comforting Maximilian first, and then me. He would hug us to try to make us feel better. I promised Maximilian it'd be much sooner than it had been since I had last seen him when picking up Stephen until I was able to be back this time. I'm not very sure what Pavletta told him, but for a moment there were a couple of smiles in his lips and in his eyes--those heartfelt smiles of him that can conquer anyone's heart. But when the time of the final good-bye approached, he started crying again, and this time Philip joined in, to hug me also--and we cried all three together. At one point, Philip started pushing Maximilian's wheelchair towards the door, as if trying to protect his new brother from the pain of the good-bye. I could hear their sobbing as they went along the hallway, and I kept for a moment sobbing inside the room, while picking up my belongings and making sure I was not leaving anything behind--but, even though I was carrying with me everything tangible I needed to take, I was certainly leaving there something that could not be packed in a bag o suitcase. I was leaving a piece of my heart behind--and not only of my heart, but also of the hearts of all of us. Actually, since back in August of 2009, when for the first time I had seen the picture of that little boy who would become our Stephen, bleeding shards of the hearts of my Mother, my daughter, my twin sons, and mine have constantly been in Luvokit, crying and rejoicing, rejoicing and crying with the emotional roller coaster of two adoption processes for three little ones, the first one now successfuly completed since December 2010 for one of them. I was leaving behind love and hope for those two adorable little boys who are already my sons, who are members of our family already, even if the papers don't say so yet. I was also leaving behind the anxiety and the pain from which I cannot protect them because I cannot fight the rules. They have seen that I love them, they have seen from the photo books how extremely loving their Grandma and their sister and brothers look--and yet they cannot be sure I'll be back. Yes, children tend to trust what they are told--but on the other hand, from a child's perspective, a few months are an eternity--and between a long wait and never the difference is not that big. We'll keep in contact, though, and they will be told every time one step further in the process gets done. They will be read every e-mail and will be shown every picture.

Pavletta told me that one of the staff members who deals with the children had expressed how much Maximilian had changed over these last few days. She had said that now he smiles more and is a much happier child. And I'm so much in love with that smile of his that comes straight from the soul. I'll go back for a moment to my first day in Lukovit in order to write about something that I omitted in that post. At the very beginning, when I had given him a staffed dog and Vesko had asked him how he wanted to name his new dog, maxmilian's answer had been, "Lili." I asked whether he knew that my name is Lillian. It is possible that he may have asked because he's interested in names (and ages, but I didn't answer how old I am)--yet nobody remembers having told him. He goes over the names of all his new siblings, remembers them even without looking at the pictures, and his pronounciation is perfect. If you have a moment, please join a prayer to ours for a smooth and fast I-800 approval.

The application is going out on Monday by express mail. This Sunday it's Mother's Day--and ours will be a highly emotional one, loaded with the joy of the reunion mixed togetehr with the pain around my Mom's heart problems and the distance that there is between, on one hand, eight of us on one side of the ocean and two on the other--because even though we considered family members already from the very moment when that initial commitment letter was filed, now we know that the feelings are reciprocal and that we do mean to them family, love, and home.

These are fourth-day pix (Thursday, 05/10/12). No words are needed.

Mommy keeps on getting more and more kisses.

They look so thin and so tiny. Why couldn't I smuggle them in my carry-on luggage?

I don't look so nice in this picture--but the moment was one I did want to preserve.

The fifth and last day started with some nice smiles. . .

When we started telling Mximilian that after that visit I'd have to go back so as to work on the second stage papers and return for him and Philip.

We cried and creid together. I was not much comfort because I was crying as well.

And we kept on crying, and crying, and crying. . .

I'm not sure what Kolinka told him, but for some time that wonderful, heartfelt smile of his was back on his face.

We took some pix with all the staff members who are close to our boys.

Pavletta, she other social worker, is wiping some more tears.

More group pix. Maximilian is really close to Domka, the lady in white standing right behnd him--to the ppint that in one of my early visits he had asked whether Domka could come to U.S. with us as well.

And that awesome smile is back on his face. . .

. . . until the moment of the final good-bye arrived.

Why couldn't I just bring them home?

As the final moment was approaching, Philip ran up to me, hugged me, and burst into tears as well.

Philip decided that his brother and his mom shouldn't cry any more. Still in tears, he started pushing Maximilian's chair towards the door. As staff members accompanied them along the corridor, I could still hear them sobbing. Please watch the videos.

In front of Easter Orthodox Cathedral downtown Sofia

Monument to the Unknown Soldier, downstown Sofia as well.

Lion sculpture by the Monument to the Unknown Soldier. It was not a time to smile for pictures, was it?

Dinner at the Budapest Hotel with Toni, Connie, with her husband and their adorable Ethan, and two other families

In this picture you can see Ethan and the other little boy. The fourth family was on Trip No. One as well.

I couldn't leave Bulgaria without getting a new picture with Toni.

Photo of the University of Sofia, taken from the taxicab on my way to the airport, Saturday, 05/12/12

As the plane was taking off and I could get a last glimpse of the Bulgarian soil, tears were running down my cheeks. Not only a piece of my heart remained there, but bleeding pieces of the hearts of all of us. Maximilian and Philip, if only you could really know that we all love the two of you so, so, so very much!!!

Our Father Who art in Heaven, please protect them, and help us be able to bring them home, where they belong--not only because of our desperate wishes, not only because of their own wishes, but because that's Your divine will.