My Mom

It is useless to keep on pretending that everything is the same as it used to be. Something has changed dramatically already and will remain changed forever. Our family will never be the same as it was. My Mom's heart has been huge all her life. It has always been selfless, generous, considerate, loving beyodn what words can say--but we're talking about her heart in the sense of her soul, the soul of a true saint. On the contrary, her earthly heart, that muscle that is supposed to pump blood back and forth around the physical body, is too weak, too tired ,and is giving up--and there is nothing that medicine can do about it.

The gates of Heaven will be wide open to greet her--but here neither Catherine nor Gerard and Warren nor I are  prepared to see her take that flight up to the eternity. We simply cannot imagine celebrating Christmas, Easter, or Thanksgiving without my Mom at the table or opening presents by the tree. She will be always with us, taking our slightest needs and wishes up to the Lord--but we won't be able to see her, hug her, kiss her, listen to her voice. She's always been the shoulder on which to cry, the arms of comfort that we'd get around when in need of comfort or hope, the words of praise, encouragement, or consolation that we were eager to hear, the spiritual warfare to protect us whenever any evil had to be fought.

Moreover, within that loving, tender personality, she also had the enormous courage to go to the extreme of putting her life on the line to save a boy she had never seen before. One hot summer day many years ago, with no other weapon that her valiant heart, she faced a depraved-looking man with bloodshot eyes and a knife in his hand who wanted to kidnap a child. Assuming that such little boy grew up to become a father and grandfather, even if he does not clearly recall that day long ago, wherever he is today, he owes his life to my Mom. 

When her heart was strong to have tolerated those operations, my Mom voluntarily refused to get the knee replacement and cataracts surgeries that would have saved her mobility and eyesight. She deemed the international adoption expenses, first from Haiti and then from Bulgaria, with the two failed ones from Russia and Uzbekistan in between, to be more important than her vision and the use of her legs. Even after finding herself almost blind and in a wheelchair, she never had any regrets.

Even back then she could have had Medicare. Yet, not having the necessary work quarters in U.S., it wouldn't have been at no charge. She did have the funds to pay for those monthly premiums, or to have paid for those surgeries out of pocket, but, once again, she preferred to have more grandkids in the home than being able to walk and see. Ironically, currently she does have the entitlement to free Medicare--but her heart is too weak for anything now--even too weak to keep on going any more. Earthly life is slipping away from her. She's been a true saint all her life, and there is no doubt that she will keep on checking every moment uopon us from the eternal dwelling--the same as even now, no matter how very badly she fees, she still sometimes wakes up in the middle of the night--and her first thought is to check to make sure I didn't fall down from my computer chair and am bleeding to death with head trauma on the kitchen floor. She has always reminded us to take a coat because it might get cool after dark. She would always look at the time and remind us to leave well in advance in order not to be late--with no need to speed on the freeway. When it was only a few minutes later than it should have taken us to be back home from wherever we were, she would call in order to be at ease that we were O.K.

Catherine, Gerard, and Warren completely refuse to accept the reality that Grandma is about to take that ultimate flight up to Heaven any moment now. Her body is getting weaker and weaker. Her absolutely selfless soul is desperately engaged in her last earthly act of love. Her debilitated physique is holding on, trying to shout out to us that we need to be prepared, trying to somehow ease the pain of the good-bye for us, trying to give us the time to process the information we have in front of our eyes--and yet we refuse to see.

Just two days ago Catherine called from work to ask how Grandma was doing. I told her that after having some ice cream she seemed to feel a little better--and Catherine's immediate concern was what we'd do in winter, when she won't be able to have ice cream due to the cold. I didn't dare say anything--but I'm conscious that there won't be such a dilemma. It won't be really cold within the next couple of weeks--and after that there is no such thing as being cold in the eternity. Yet, Catherine stilll expects her to be at the Chritmas table. . . and she will be with us for sure, even if our eyes won't be able to see her. 

My Mom is also providing me with an excuse to justify if Thomas, Nicholas, or Stephen does not react the way I expect when the moment arrives. Once I was shown a documentary in which a mother who had adopted a very large sibling group had felt betrayed when the children didn't show as much sorrow as she expected when their grandmother passed away. It was a mandatory adoption training seminar, and in the discussion that ensued I criticized the mother in the video because the children could not be expected to love with all their hearts a grandmother who may have sent them some presents but who was not there to greet them, who didn't get startled every time one of them fell down, who didn't mind risking contagion from a MRSA infection. It had not been a grandmother who had deemed the children more important than her own mobility and eyesight. 

I'm not saying that my younger sons won't suffer. I'm sure they will. Besides, seeing their Grnadma decline, make an effort to talk, and grasp for air is preparing them for what is about to come.

My real concern is the beginning of college for Gerard and Warren, and Catherine's promotion to the position of lead therapist at the agency where she works with special kids--and she does have a very special place in eher heart for special kids.  Financially the promotion won't mean much--but it's at least some well-deserved recognition and an important career move--and she needs to be able to perform efficiently.

The other day in the mornign she was very late and left by the lower storey (the house is split-level), with no time to come upstairs and kiss her Grandma before going to work. She appeared at home in the middle of the day--only to kiss her Grandmother. While switching from office to field work, she had decided to stop by home and show her Grandma one more time how infinitely loved she is.

I'm really concerned about how the twins will react. One single semester with lower grades due to bereavement can be fatal from the perspective of future medical school admission--and that's what they want since the age of five. They want to be pediatricians, like their late dad, who died prematurely in a car accident. Gerard wants to be a general pediatrician, like him, and Warren leans towards pediatric neurology--but they want to make it through medical school together and have their practices together.  A very moving, touching, heartwarming little anecdote is that during the process of deciding our move from San Diego to RI, the twins faked a much greater enthusiasm for the colleges and medical schools on the east coast as opposed to UCSD in La Jolla, CA. They were the most enthusiastic proponents of our out-of-state move--only because they wanted to speed up the homecoming of Maximilian and Philip. After we were already permanently settled in RI they finally disclosed that had they been through the U.C. transfer system, they would have used their 20-soemthing junior college credits they had been accummulating since the age of 10, could have made it into college without taking their ACT's, and , most importantly, would have had priority for medical school admission later on, without all the fierce, ferocious competition they'll have to face here. Considering that neither one of them won't accept admission without his brother, the admission process will be twice as challenging.

This early exposure to so much suffering is far from being what they need at this moment. The beginning of college is supposed to be a time of excitement--not one of tears.  As their counselor, in their Common App for college admission I said that at the age of 14, as they had not turned 15 yet then, they had already been C.N.A.'s, O.T. assistants, P.T. assistants, speech pathology assistants, homework tutors, childcare workers, and child development specialists for their younger brothers, technical support and computer graphics specialists for me, and problem solvers every time--no matter what the problem would be. 

I'm getting off topic. There is no way to pretend any longer. We can't delay the pain. It's happening.

Update. As of this morning, 08/28/12, she entered into a comma. If you want to say a prayer, her name is Nydia Soracco-Godone--a true saint.

The Raging of the Storm

Hello, everyone,
First of all I'd like to acknowledge the sources of this idea. Well, to start with, as with everything else, I should thank God, Who created everything and Who turned the stormy night into a lovely warm summmer morning.

Furthermore I want to acknowlege that I had just finished reading Susanna's awesome advocate post about the children of Pleven. If interested, the link is: http://theblessingofverity.blogspot.com

I was trying to get something done at the computer during night hours but a horrible storm was raging right out of our window. Thunder was roaring and lightning was flashing so near that I decided to play it safe, turn off, and unplug my computer. Getting a little something done did not justify risking to lose all the files stored in it. I prepared a coffee and had a night snack, which is almost a tradition for me. Looking out from the kitchen windows to the wooded ten-acre property that we rent we could imagine that to be the perfect spot for a re-making of Snow White's dreadful walk through the forest in the middle of the night until she found the cozzy cottage inhabited by the dwarves.

Without being able to use the computer, I was thinking about going back to sleep--but then in a matter of a few minutes, the storm seemed to stop, the skies cleared up with the morning light, carrying the promise of a beautiful summer day. The wind had stopped, and the birds were beginning to greet the morning with their song.

Before arriving to plug the computer back in, an idea came to my mind. "The calm after the storm" is a concept shared by people from all countries and all cultures all over the world. When something goes wrong, we try to find comfort in prayer, family support, the memories of much better times stored in our hearts, and the hope that things will get better soon. Yet, not everyone has those resources to hold on to--particularly not the children in an orphanage or in foster care, not the children without a family to give them something to look forward to, something to work for, something to hope for, something to make an effort to achieve.

For those kids there is no hope, no future, no goals, no life ahead. There is no "calm after the storm," no "rainbow after the rain," no safe haven, no open door. As in one of the well--known songs in the world-famous "Annie" movie, those kids know that nobody cares whether they "grow or shrink." And I don't think anyone of us can properly even imagine how very much that must hurt. We may try to understand it in order to justify some acting out--but we cannot fully arrive to grasp the idea of living with that knowedge during the first years of life. . . sometimes for quite too many years.

Adopting a child is saving a life. Can you do it? Or--can you do it one more time?

They all deserve better than an institution or a life all alone

I don’t think anyone can disagree. Can anyone say it’s not important for a child to be wanted and loved, receive proper medical care, and have the feeling of belonging into a forever family and a forever home? Independently of socio-economic status, most children have parents who give them as much or as little as they can—but at least give them the most they can. That’s something that an orphan child can never have.

Growing up in impoverished areas, underserved communities, or crime ridden neighborhoods is bad enough. For children who grow up without a family it’s even worse. They do not only face a very bleak future. Worst of all, they face that bleak, hopeless, ominous future alone.

Whether locked up in an institution or all by themselves in the world at the mercy of the first human predator hunting for human prey, kids without families face an undeserved life of misery with no way out. This does not only apply to children in orphanages in remote corners of the world.  No matter what the U.N.I.C.E.F. may try to make us believe about the alleged wonders of the foster care system, things are not much better for foster kids once they are on their own. On the contrary: quite often children who have been through multiple foster placements are much more adversely psychologically impacted than those growing up in the same orphanage with many other children similarly situated who share the same fate. Foster kids instead are being exposed to the wonders of family life by finding themselves assigned to a family to which they very well know they don’t fully belong. That can be even worse.

Anyway, none of those children has a future ahead. Those children don’t worry about what they want to major in. They don’t worry about the need to improve their GPA’s in order to be admitted to a good college. Quite often they don’t even care whether they live or die—because they know that nobody else cares either.

It is extremely sad that so many innocent children face such brutal destiny when they grow up. And it is even worse to think that we’re talking about something avoidable—but not avoided yet. Against what pro-choice propagandists try to make others believe, there are no unwanted children in this world. No medical condition, disfigurement, or cognitive delays make any child unwanted. Some may be surprised to hear that—but those who are in the Pro-Life and special needs adoption communities very well know that no matter what challenge, disease, or combination of both children may face, there are always families willing to come forward to adopt them. There are families praising God for the adoption of children who will never function beyond infancy level. There are families willing to adopt children with serious attachment disorders or behavioral issues. There are families willing to adopt children in need of life saving yet highly risky surgical procedures. There are even families willing to adopt children who are terminally ill. Honestly, I admire those who can do it. I confess I wouldn’t adopt a child who doesn’t have a normal life expectancy. If something happened, we would never recover. I have three children by birth, ages 26, 15, and 15, and all three of them are willing to commit for life to their younger brothers with special needs—to a much more devoted level than any parent can expect, ask for, or even dream about. Yet, none of them would be prepared to say a premature good-bye to a younger sibling. A good-bye would destroy their lives—not their voluntary commitment to never allow any one of them to end up in a group home.

Yet, families know what they can and cannot handle—and my point is that there is no child with so many or so severe issues that no family can handle.

This takes me to the crucial argument I’m trying to make. Quite often kids are not adopted not because there was not any willing family to give them their name, take them home, provide them with proper medical care, and surround them with love. In many instances there may have been a willing family, and even more than one—but there were some deterrents. Ironically, in many cases those deterrents were neither related to the child’s behavioral issues  or special needs nor to any concern on the part of the applicant family about their own ability to cope with those issues or needs.

I do understand that the foreign country where the children are located may have certain eligibility requirements for prospective adoptive parents. Whether or not those eligibility criteria make sense, it is still undisputable that a country may have a say regarding who can adopt kids who are citizens of that country. It is also only reasonable that the parents’ country may have its own eligibility checklist that applicants need to meet before being allowed to proceed with the international adoption of one or more children.

Yet, I cannot understand or condone that quite often adoption agencies that claim to be working in favor of the orphan children as well as in favor of their clients are the ones that impose more stringent eligibility requirements than those set forth by the foreign and domestic countries. I cannot understand or condone that quite often and for no valid reason social workers make their own clients cry by refusing to update a homestudy to include one more child, or to approve concurrent adoptions, or back-to-back adoptions, or the adoption of a child with more severe special needs.

Our own family story is a vibrant testimony of the nonsensical nature of such arbitrarily imposed limitations. First of all I’d clarify that even though I’m widowed, and therefore a single applicant, when talking about adoption I always use the plural due to how totally, absolutely, unconditionally involved my mother and my three biological children were at all times, and are, in each one of the processes. Thomas and Nicholas joined our family from Haiti in 2008—and we cannot be more thankful to God than we are for having them. Yet, there was also a younger boy with more severe c.p. whom we desperately wanted home as well—but it never happened because the home study agency refused to approve for three children with special needs to be adopted concurrently. I cannot put in words how many tears we all shed for that little boy whose name would have been Jonathan. My Mom was praying to die—not thinking that God might want her life as a trade-off, but only thinking that a stroke due to distress might make the agency change its mind out of fear of liability. We still intended to pursue Jonathan’s adoption later on, after Thomas and Nicholas were home—but the adoption laws would change in Haiti, making it much more difficult for families with biological children to adopt. We know that Jonathan was adopted by another family. That’s as much as we know, though. When I went to Haiti to pick up Thomas and Nicholas I had had a chance to hold Jonathan in my arms. That picture is all we have about him, together with an earlier one of Thomas still in Haiti and lovingly holding him in a small inflatable pool.

Perhaps my family suffered more than I myself did over Jonathan. And we all suffered together again over a little boy in Russia whom I’ll call John. He’s the one for whom my heart was really torn apart. Assuming that he is still alive today, John has arthrgryposis, with severely underdeveloped legs and some hand malformations.  Back in October 2007, with the reddish glow of the rapidly spreading wildfires in San Diego being quite ominously discernible in the distance, still it was our unanimous wish that I should take the time to go to Kinko’s and fax a basic initial application to the adoption agency so that more information could be disclosed to us. We were panicking because of those antiques from our family from Italy for generations which are testimonies of a much more illustrious past—but still we all felt that sending that fax that very same day justified some delay in the packing needed to be ready for the emergency. We were not in an evacuation area yet, but would get evacuated around 4:00 a.m. that night. During that odyssey, we still kept on thinking about that little boy whom we desperately wanted to bring home. Soon the evacuation odyssey would have for us a happy ending. Our possessions were safe, and are now in storage, still in San Diego. But the odyssey around John’s adoption would be a much longer one and would turn into a real nightmare of tears, anxiety, heartbreak, and sheer agony. Thomas and Nicholas were legally mine by then, but were not home yet. In Haiti, the adoption decree is not the final document. Following the granting of any adoption, the file goes to the MOI (Ministry of Interior) for a second-level scrutiny, and that process can take several months. The problem was that having two adoptions still in process, no agency would approve to adopt one child more.  One agency pretended some confusion, charged its fee, and then refused to do the homestudy. Leaving details aside, by the time when finally one agency in Orange County, namely Life Adoption Services, agreed to do it, there was the murder case in Utah, or, actually, the aftermath thereof—which would cause the region where John was to close down to special needs adoptions.

Another agency’s inexorable mandatory waiting period and its capricious refusal to update our homestudy to start the adoptions of Maximilian and Philip immediately following Stephen’s homecoming resulted in our move all the way from San Diego County in CA to RI. In the end, things took longer than if we had stayed in California—but we hoped we’d be speeding up the process. Personally I don’t regret the move at all. Yet, Catherine misses her friends from her former parochial Young Adults group—and working on her dissertation from the distance is proving really difficult. At the time of making the decision to move, Gerard and Warren seemed to be extremely enthusiastic about the colleges and medical schools on the east coast—only because they wanted Maximilian and Philip home as soon as possible. Once we were definitely and permanently established in RI, the twins finally disclosed the truth: they’d rather had transferred from junior college, which they had been attending since the age of 10, to U.C.S.D. University of California in San Diego) for college, and then would have gotten priority consideration for admission to their medical school—without all the fierce competition they’ll have to fare now for any of the medical schools on the east coast.

Even if not so dramatically, many other willing families also had to deal with social workers who, instead of congratulating them on their desire to adopt, only made things much more difficult. Some outcomes were successful, and in other instances families were forced to call it quits. Many children who could be home by now are still waiting. Some may have been adopted by another family, some may still have their chance—and for some others such chance will never arrive.

I should feel guilty because I cannot advocate and fundraise for other children as many of you relentlessly do. First of all, I don’t have the time. Secondly, fundraisers are extremely uncomfortable for me. I desperately need to do it for our adoptions—and still I’m finding one excuse after another to endlessly wait “one more week.” I cannot contribute to other people’s fundraisers because God heard me when I was a child and thought I had too much—in privileges, in dedication, in love, in care, in everything. I thought that being short of funds might be some sort of unknown and yet fascinating adventure. Well, as an adult I’m constantly short of funds. I know that advocating does not cost any money—but I never have the time, and besides I must confess to being too possessive. I simply cannot go through photo-listings if not for the purpose of bringing one more child home. 

I do feel thankful, though that notwithstadning the reality that my advocacy for other kids in the past may have been limited to one group post about Victoria K. and one blog post about Kolina, the latter may have been instrumental to some extent in geting that little girl who's been through the horrors of Pleven a family. Now Kolina is soon to be forever in the arms of a wonderful mommy: Linda Duncan, among lots of wonderful siblings.

So, I found another way in which I can do something. I started a petition to the NASW (National Association of Social Workers) asking the Association to issue a recommendation to its members indicating that discouraging adoptions for no objectively valid reasons goes against the principles of the profession.

Please, click on the link below, sign, and share.

http://www.change.org/petitions/to-the-national-association-of-social-workers-clarify-that-discouraging-adoption-is-against-professional-values

In addition, I also started another petition, this one as a last appeal to Obama’s conscience (assuming he has one) about the sanctity of human life. Needless to say, even not directly related to adoption, it is strongly related as well because it is about babies. As we know, there are always families, whether biological or adoptive, eager to give each and all babies all the love, dedication, and care they need. We also know that the special babies are the ones who are most severely at risk of never being allowed to see the light of day.

I’m not so naïve as to think I can change Obama’s position on abortion—but still it is always important to point out that there are no unwanted children, that there is always at least one family willing to adopt every single child. By spreading the word there is always the possibility that after a concerning ultrasound report a pregnant woman who finds herself unable or unwilling to raise a challenged child may hear the good news just on time.

Please sign and share!!! Here is the link:

 http://www.change.org/petitions/to-the-president-of-the-united-states-to-acknowledge-that-killing-babies-in-the-womb-is-not-health-care

Thank you so much.

God bless,

Lillian Godone-Maresca

  

The above picutes show me holding Jonathan four years ago in Haiti, and the little boy from Russia whom we never saw but who is still in our hearts. In order to protect his privacy, I covered his facial features.

I will advocate for three little ones who desperately need families to love them and to whom to give all the love they have inside:

Kolya - Who wouldn't want to have him home? Kolya is a high functioning loving boy with DS, with a kind personality and great loyalty to anyone with whom he bonds

Victoria - That smile melts anyone's heart!!!

Emmitt. It is simply beyond our comprehension how such an amazing, courageous boy doesn't have a family yet. How very much we wished he could be adopted by a widowed mother!!! The same as Victoria, Emmitt has been institutionalized for quite a long time now. Yet, he remains nice and considerate, kind to everyone, and intelectually active. No, none of these precious children deserve to have their lives wasted away in horrendous institutions where all they can look forward to is premature death. Who is getting Emmitt home??? And who's getting Victoria K.??? And Koyla???

Article 5 letter to be issued tomorrow!!!

Hello, everyone,
I'd like to share that Toni had the Article 5 interview for our boys today, and the priceless letter will be issued tomorrow. With this stage now completed, all the U.S.-related steps are done--and maximilian and Philip are almost home!!! Yes, the crucial stage is the court approval--but the Bulgarian authorities seem to have a very friendly approach towards international adoptions. . . and we have the best, most dedicated lawyer in the whole wide world: Toni (Antonia) Vladimirova!

In other words, even though those precious court decrees are still missing, yestrday was the day when for the first time I can think of Maximilian and Philip as my sons not only with my heart but also with my mind. For the rest of my family, there were no reservations at all from the very beginning--but I'm kind of an owl, fearing some bad news any moment. Even during my first trip, although in all those pictures and videos you can see the complete bonding and the magic of those unforgettable moments, still deep inside me I was haunted by the terror that something could go wrong in the end. Finally, yesterday I could feel much more at ease.

The waiting time for that e-mail from Toni was horrible. We were all on pins and needless, with our hearts pounding out of control as if about to burst out of our chests, our airways tightening up, and the feeling that our knees were reqdy to give in.

Actually, I gave some extra work to my knees as in the early morning I did part of my typing for a motion for a client kneeling at my computer desk. I feel badly not to have been unable to keep kneeling all the time-but must confess that when the pain became more than what I could tolerate, I'd grab my chair and contine in a normal sitting position.

Our agony was finally over when at 11:23 a.m. we got the expected e-mail from Toni: The interview had gone through all right, they seemed to remember our family from Stephen's adoption, and the Article 5 Letter would be issued the next day!!!

Thank You, Our Lord, His Blessed Mother, St. Anthony, St. Jude, St. Gerard, St. Maximilian Kolbe, and all the saints--including the saintly souls of those from our family who were already called to the Eternal Land. Actually, a few days ago, on Father's Day, I was thinking about the miracle of that dream back June of 2008, in which my Dad, who passed away in 1993, was ringing the bell, carrying Thomas and Nicholas--one in each of his arms. Something seemingly unsolvable had happen at the U.S. Consulate in Port-au-Prince. My Dad told me in that unforgettable dream that he had gone to Haiti himself in order to bring them home to all of us. As I had tried to hug my Dad one last time, he had vanished--but the very day after the problem had been mysteriously solved. Within one week the visas had been issued and I was purchasing the airplane tickets to bring Thomas and Nicholas home. Last Sunday I asked my Dad to intercede one more time before the Almighty--for Maximilian and Philip now. Things looked much better than they did for Thomas and Nicholas back in 2008--but when it comes to adoption it's impossible to avoid worrying until the little ones are actually home.

My Dad, Armando C.E. Godone-Signanini

My Mom had been praying, and praying, and praying. After the joy of the good news, towards the evening she started not feeling well. It was the result of the anxiety--the result of so much love.

Please pray for her. Her name is Nydia Soracco-Godone. Thank you all.

"Better late than never." First trip pix and video links

I apologize to everyone, particularly to those who are following my blog (and whose interest I do greatly appreciate), for my delay in posting pix and video links. Finally you'll find lots of pix after the text of each one of my latest posts (the three that are about Trip No. One for Maximilian and Philip).

The videos are unlisted, and the links are as follows:

1. Fourth day visit (this is very nice, yet very long one--so you may want to skip and go to the latest ones)
2. Philip with photo book. Greeting new family members through video.
3. Family photo books. Learning the names of family members.
4. Last visit, May 11, 2012
5. First video of last visit, when Maximilian was told that I'd need to go back to U.S.
6. Last moment of last visit (everybody crying).

1. http://youtu.be/K9uLH_3KnF0
2. http://youtu.be/xqFWcMdSc9w
3. http://youtu.be/YmcPOCRCDzY
   
4. http://youtu.be/tP9J_BPouec
5. http://youtu.be/cedswW_GixA
6. http://youtu.be/-4-8Khcuq5g

I know that time is limited for everyone---but those videos are really worth seeing!!! Get some tissues ready for the two last ones.


From all the Godone-Maresca family, thank you all for your prayers for I-800 approval.


God bless,


Lillian

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.