International Adoption
AAI Ukraine program coordinator takes it very personally
It’s a blustery winter evening at Christmas time, 2002, and a frightened little girl with straggly hair and a dirty face, sits stiffly on an old woman’s lap. She stares intently at the ground, refusing to connect with anyone. But every once in a while she peers around nervously, curious about what’s happening and, just briefly, gives a glimpse into her eyes that reveal a child with hard-earned wisdom well beyond her three years.
Perhaps her eyes reflect a life experience that’s known coldness, hunger, fear, and loneliness. Or perhaps what’s there is apprehension about what’s to come. She knows only one thing with certainty: that whatever is happening, life as she knows it will never be the same. Those who huddled around her want to console the little girl and reassure her that what’s ahead will include hope, love, and a sense of belonging. But she’s not buying any of it just yet.
Fast forward five years and watch as this same little girl, now eight, takes hold of her adoptive mom’s hand and the two of them exchange a glance that communicates reassurance, pride, joy, and love, all in just a look.
That’s the best part of working at AAI—being there to see each connection and watch it replace the loneliness and hopelessness.
Opening the door
Larissa, our Ukraine program coordinator, has been with AAI since May 2007. Born and raised in Dnepropetrovsk, Ukraine—before the country split from the Soviet Union—Larissa remembers a happy childhood in this large city. Always interested in English language and literature, she earned a master’s degree in both subjects from Dnepropetrovsk State University, graduating in 1994. By then she was divorced and was raising her daughter, Yuliya, as a single mother. She began working in international business as a translator, and even tried her hand at self-employment for a short time.
But things weren’t easy in Ukraine. Once a great industrial center, the city of Dnepropetrovsk was crumbling as the entire nation’s economy struggled in the post Soviet years. In 2001, hoping to make a better life for her daughter and herself, Larissa applied for a professional work visa to Canada. She was denied. Now, looking back on that time of hopelessness and despair, Larissa can see that there had been a reason for her to remain in Ukraine.
Christmas and New Year holidays in Ukraine are traditionally spent at home with family, much like in the U.S. The winter of 2002 was no different, despite the bleak prospects for Larissa who at this point was living in a crowded apartment with her daughter, her sister, and her mother. One evening right before Christmas there was a knock on the door, and life for this small family would never be the same.
Larissa opened the door to find three-year-old Krystyna and her grandmother, who had come to ask for food. Larissa recognized the old woman and knew that she often came around the neighborhood begging for food for the young girl. She also knew that the two of them lived in squalor, in nothing more than a small, unheated barn. In the spirit of the holiday season, Larissa invited the two of them in. After awhile, she offered a warm, soothing bath to little Krystyna, and later offered to keep the tiny girl for a few days, considering the cold and bleak conditions that waited for her.
Krystyna’s grandmother agreed to leave the girl, probably knowing that the offer was a kindness she might never see again. While they talked, Krystyna sat quietly on her grandmother’s lap, seeming to realize that something life-changing was happening around her. Later on she would tell Larissa how frightening that first bath was for her, how until then she had only occasionally been taken for a bath to the nearby river in the summer.
Adopting Krystyna
“A few days” of care turned into several weeks, and then months. It wasn’t easy as a single mother to provide for and manage a three-generation household, but Larissa just couldn’t bring herself to send Krystyna back to the forlorn life she’d had before. Eventually, through a connection with a local church, Larissa began to consider the possibility of having Krystyna adopted by an American couple.
Adoption by a Ukrainian couple was out of the question as the country remains close-minded when it comes to caring for, much less adopting, a child who isn’t a biological relative. So, Larissa made a plan for an international adoption, and began the long process of getting documents in place that would ultimately make Krystyna eligible for adoption.
During the time she cared for Krystyna, Larissa began to view the little girl as her daughter. And she knew Krystyna was bonding with her as a mother. Larissa had often thought that, if her own life circumstances hadn’t been so full of obstacles that were unlikely to improve in the near future, she would have contemplated adopting Krystyna herself. But, with hope that was bittersweet, Larissa stuck with her original plan.
Then, in April of 2004, Larissa met Harvey. The divorced father of three children—ironically, all of whom were adopted—was from Holland, Michigan.
Emails turned into letters, letters into phone calls, and then, three months later, Harvey flew to Ukraine for a visit. The ten days they spent together confirmed what they already knew to be true: that they were very good for each other. Upon his return to the states, Harvey applied for a fiancée visa. Eight months later, Larissa and her daughter, Yuliya, came to the United States. On April 30, 2005 Harvey and Larissa were married.
Meanwhile, Krystyna remained with Larissa’s mother in Dnepropetrovsk. Soon after their marriage, Larissa and Harvey began to discuss the possibility of adopting Krystyna themselves. Their lives were going well. Larissa’s daughter, Yuliya had applied and was accepted to Hope College in Holland, Michigan (where she was an excellent student, making the Dean’s list three times). The separation from Krystyna remained the only sadness. Every time the five-year-old spoke with Larissa on the phone, she would ask, “When will you take me there? Soon?” It didn’t seem like too much to ask.
As a U.S. citizen, Harvey had to be the one to petition the U.S. government for immigration approval to adopt Krystyna. Since the adoption would be done without the assistance of an agency, it was fortunate that Larissa had already done much of the work on the Ukraine side of the process. Still, it took time and patience.
Finally, in February of 2007, Larissa and Harvey made their travel arrangements and purchased their tickets to Ukraine to bring Krystyna home. Then they found out that the adoption wouldn’t be approved in Ukraine for at least four months. Yet another delay! So the couple waited in Michigan, while Krystyna waited in Ukraine.
Six months later, in August 2007, the trip was back on. But there would be yet another disappointing delay. Harvey returned to the U.S. after the court hearing one week later, as planned, while Larissa and Krystyna remained in Ukraine finalize the passport and visa application process—typically a thee week process. At the end of this time, however, she was informed that Krystyna’s passport wasn’t valid, and that getting a new one would take another three weeks. Disappointed, Larissa said goodbye to Krystyna once again, but with the clear understanding that they would finally be together three weeks later. This time, the promise was kept. Larissa traveled back to Ukraine in September and finally brought Krystyna home on September 23, 2007.
New beginnings
Krystyna is now settling into her new family, new home, and new school. She is learning English, and is getting to know her new father. They now gaze comfortably into each other’s eyes, much like Larissa and Krystyna have been doing for years. It’s as if they can all now acknowledge that life isn’t always easy, that things don’t always go as planned, and that timing isn’t always what they’d hope for; yet, there’s joy in the experience, in recognizing that the things we don’t plan for often result in something better.
Larissa once commented on how much more accepting people in the U.S. are of adoption. Yet she very naturally assumed responsibility for a child when called upon to do so. Like many of us at AAI, Larissa was personally touched by adoption in a way that changed her forever—a way that guarantees that her work here will never be just a job.
More Information
For more information on adopting from Ukraine, call 616.667.0921 or request a free adoption information packet.
