The bittersweet nature of life, and so many other important
lessons, were driven home to me almost three years ago. As my children’s grandpa was slowly dying
from cancer, my immediate family was preparing to welcome a new member. The parallels and simultaneous contrasts
between these two events were striking.
I also believe they were anything but coincidental.
Grandpa Jim, as my two young daughters called him, was my
mother’s second husband. My father had
died of prostate cancer in 1989, shortly after my parents’ 40th
wedding anniversary. Together they had
raised nine children in a very traditional, stable marriage. Five years after my dad’s death, my mother
married Jim. Jim was a personable, smart,
and quick-witted country gentleman. He
quickly became an accepted member of the family by Mom’s skeptical adult
children, in spite of ourselves. The
little grandchildren made the transition from “Mr. Jim” to “Grandpa Jim”
effortlessly, for Jim was the quintessential grandpa. He helped them feed the ducks and geese, took them on tractor
rides, and pointed out “Bambi” in the woods.
Jim had lived with a diagnosis of prostate cancer for several
years. Unlike my dad, Jim was able to
keep his cancer controlled for quite some time with various courses of
treatment. There finally came a time,
however, when Jim’s care revolved around keeping his quality of life as opposed
to killing the cancer.
 |
| Grandpa Jim arriving to visit us in NY |
It happened that during this time, I became increasingly drawn
to the idea of adoption. My first
daughter, Elizabeth, was conceived easily just a few months after my husband
George and I were married. She actually
attended my mom and Jim’s wedding when she was a toddler. When George and I were ready for a second
child, it didn’t happen so easily.
After a year and a half and some beginning diagnostic testing for
secondary infertility, Abigail was finally conceived naturally. We happily didn’t need to pursue any more
testing, which had so far provided no explanation for the temporary difficulty.
Looking back now at the path my road to motherhood took, I
know it was meant to be that way. I
have no doubt in my mind that my daughters were supposed to be born, and to
come into my life exactly when and how they did. The frustrating wait for Abigail was time I needed to open my
mind to the idea of adoption. Several
years later, when I longed for a third child but had not become pregnant, I had
already done some of the preliminary emotional work I needed to do before I was
ready to discuss the idea of adoption with my husband. Also since the birth of Abigail, we
witnessed some of our friends’ adoption experiences and were able to see the
beauty of them.
Once I began the countless hours of research, reading, and
discussion about adoption, it seemed there were signs everywhere telling me to
go get my young son in Russia.
Everything I read and heard, and the voice in my heart, gently prodded
me to proceed out of my comfort zone and bring home a little boy who needed a
family.
Our adoption required my husband and me to travel to Russia
for two trips, both during a couple months’ time. This was a very difficult sticking point for me, having two school-aged
daughters at home who needed me. I remember
one day kneeling in prayer and saying, “God, if this is what you want me to do,
please show me the answer.” The very
next day, my dear friend Wendy actually volunteered to come up to New York from
Virginia, with her baby in tow, to care for the girls during our adoption
travel. How much clearer an answer can
one receive?
All the months of medical clearances, paperwork,
document-gathering, payments, and fingerprinting for the adoption coincided
with doctor appointments, paperwork, and payments for Jim’s care. My mother and I carried on a daily telephone
call relationship during the summer and fall of 2003, sharing our hassles and
heartaches along the way. Her hardship
helped me keep perspective and try to be supportive in her time of suffering. My journey helped provide her with hope and
a focus on life during a time of decline and impending loss.
When we received our son’s referral, with his name and picture
and some basic information, we were thrilled to see a three-year-old boy who
seemed vibrant and happy despite a very tough beginning in life. We decided to keep his given name, Viktor,
and add James as a middle name in honor of the grandpa he would never know in
person. Little did we know then that
this blond boy would have so many characteristics in common with the once-blond
Grandpa Jim—both such active and charismatic people.
 |
| Viktor's referral photo--Fall 2003 |
We took our first trip to meet Viktor at the end of
October. We made a videotape, and I was
quick to forward it to my mother and Jim.
I feel lucky that Jim was able to see the tape before his passing. My mother shared that at the nursing
facility, Jim would ask, “What’s new with Viktor James?” It was so fitting that, as Jim was preparing
to leave this life, a little boy who would share his name was about to join our
family.
Jim passed away on December 6, the day after we received our
Russian court date of December 17. We
finally arrived home with Viktor on the evening of December 23, just in time
for Christmas. That was another point
of significance to me. Christmas is
clearly a time to celebrate a joyous arrival, but one cannot think of Jesus
without also remembering His suffering and death. Bringing Viktor home was exciting and happy, but we were also
mourning Jim.
Viktor is not biologically related to anyone in my family, and
neither was Jim. Yet Viktor is my son,
and Jim was Grandpa. When things get
difficult in relationships, people often say that love can sometimes be more a
decision than a feeling. If that is
true, then the same can be said for family.
Family is love, and family is a decision. We decided to take Jim into our fold and accept him as my
mother’s husband and the kids’ grandpa.
My husband and I decided to adopt Viktor to make him our son and our
daughters’ brother. When the going got
rough with Jim, the decision of family made sure he and my mom were
supported. Sometimes things are tough
with Viktor. Very few children from a
background like his can make it out without some damage and some healing
needed. Viktor is family so we are
committed to him. Besides, how could
that strong voice in my heart, the answer to my prayer, and the signs
everywhere lead me to bring home a child without also providing me with the
means to be able to take care of him? I
feel if God led me to it, He’ll lead me through it.
In the end, I was blessed to be shown in a dramatic way what
the circle of life is all about. As one
beloved family member left us and another arrived, I was also shown that family
is forever.
No comments:
Post a Comment